Harry Potter And The Bleak World. Book one!

Chapter eleven of this spectacular book-in-a-book, The Quidditch Game.

Damn, I think that's actually original??
I do not own Harry Potter. This is an AU.

MY FRIEND FORCED ME TO PUBLISH WHEN I *INITIALLY* PUBLISHED THIS AND IM STILL SALTY ABOUT IT

---

The start of November was a start to the Quidditch season, as well as a start to cold weather. The library had been opened the day after the Troll incident, though there noticeably were a few less books than before.

The mornings, days, and nights were colder, and the sun rose later, and every morning, the ground was covered in frost. Hagrid could be seen from the upstairs windows defrosting broomsticks on the Quidditch field, bundled up in a long moleskin overcoat, rabbit fur gloves, and enormous beaverskin boots.

The Quidditch season had really begun. On Saturday, Draco would be playing in his first match: Gryffindor versus Slytherin. If Slytherin won, they would remain first place in the house championship, as well as get a head start in the House Cup. Harry wouldn't get to play in a match until two weeks later, but he was incredibly excited nonetheless. He had been reading up all types of Quidditch books in the Library, and his friends were usually there with him, enjoying the warmth.

Ron had gathered the courage to apologise to Hermione, admitting that he was embarrassed she did it and he couldn't. She wasn't on "friends" terms with him, but she could stand him.

"I'm glad we're not Gryffindors," Lisa said. She, Padma, Harry, and Hermione were sitting in the Library, reading. "Well, I mean, I'm glad you're not a Gryffindor, Harry. I hear they've been getting tons of last-minute practices. I can't imagine the toll that's been taking on their homework." Lisa said, correcting herself. 

"I'm glad too. Etta's way calmer about practice. She only really puts tons of effort into the people that don't play as well." Harry told her.

"You four! Out!" Madam Pince suddenly shrieked from her counter. Apparently, it had already been five-- she had been setting curfews for when the Library was and wasn't open; There were still books missing, and nobody was allowed to check any out.

"We'll go to the courtyard. It's not always warm, but I can conjure a fire," Hermione said, as Madam Pince slammed the doors to the Library shut. "No, I left my book in the Library. It's Muggle. I need to go see Professor Flitwick for a note." Harry denied, but then paused. "Actually, I'll get it tomorrow morning. Professor Flitwick is probably in the staffroom." 

"You are impossible sometimes." Lisa laughed, pulling Sly out her pocket. "And keep a hold on your baby here. She keeps trying to take my most prized possessions," She handed Sly to Harry. He pretended to hum. "Well, I'd buy some type of carrier that wasn't a bag in which I could bring with me everywhere, if she was, you know, allowed by school rules. Since she's a niffler and not an owl, cat, or a toad." Harry told her sarcastically, holding Sly tightly. Hermione and Padma laughed.

"Hey, have you seen Professor Snape's limp? Apparently he's been walking on it all morning." Padma whispered, as they all walked up the Grand Staircase. 

"Of course I have, who hasn't?" Lisa commented, giggling, as Hermione waved goodbye, going to another staircase to get to the seventh floor. 

"I wonder why the Gryffindors have a higher tower-- Fire." Harry said, answering the Eagle Knocker's riddle.

"Oh, Potter! Perfect timing!" A boy in a higher year pulled Harry's wrist, dragging him away from Lisa and Padma. "I'm Roger Davies. I'm on the Quidditch Team, Etta's got news." He explained, taking Harry to a table. Etta and the other Quidditch members had been sitting.

"Harry! Hi! Oh- right, my news! Okay, so... um, well, Gryffindor's new Seeker has caught a horrible cold because he's been out in the cold too much, and he can't play because... well, that's just why. Soo... we're playing Slytherin tomorrow." Etta briefed, stammering, and a boy beside Etta had been undeniably shocked. His mouth was gaping.

"Close your mouth, that's disgusting." Etta said, hitting the boy's shoulder. "Now, Harry, let me introduce you to everyone. Roger Davies, he's Beater. Danial Green, the blabbermouth Chaser. Steve Malerr, second Chaser. I'm sure you know Penelope Clearwater, Prefect and third Chaser. She's the best, really-- he's Edward O'Farrely, second Beater. Then there's me-- Etta, Keeper, and Captain. And you, Harry, our Star Player, Seeker." Etta explained, pointing at everyone as she called their names.

"Why's he Star Player?" Malerr asked, annoyed. "Because, Steve, he's a first year and still got on the team. No offence, you barely scraped by." Etta said, almost a little bitterly. 

"Yikes, that's a burn, Steve!" Penelope said, laughing as she pointed at him. 

"Can't they just cure the Gryffindor Seeker's cold, though? Isn't there a spell for it?" Harry asked.

"Ah, nope. It's muggle-- magical common cures for colds really only work if the cold was caused by a Curse of the Bogies, and since it wasn't, there's no found-- er, functioning-- cure for it. But nevermind that-- now, everyone! We're going to have a quick practice to make sure we're ready to play, since we'll be playing earlier, it'll just be a quick thirty minutes. Checking how quick you can react, all that. And no horsing around this practice, got it?" Etta said, before directing everyone to go get their brooms. It was rare she had been genuinely serious.

It was indeed a short practice-- everyone had gained some form of improvement by getting a check on their skills-- and dinner had been fine, too. But the whole night Harry slept, he kept thinking, kept waking up, sweaty. He kept having a horrible nightmare-- it made him feel sick. He kept dreaming that he was flying in the middle of a Quidditch game-- the two Bludgers flew at him from every direction, but everyone was too busy chasing after the Quaffle to notice, and the Beaters were nowhere to be seen; Not his team's, nor the opposing. Whenever a Bludger suddenly got a hit on him, his limbs would go numb, and his broom would drift. If he got so unlucky that he fell off his broom, instead of hitting the ground, a bright green light would flash him in the eyes. And then, a red light. He'd hear his mother's scream, a scream he could've sworn would've been his father's, and a whisper that sounded like someone, or something, speaking to him-- "Transfer to Slytherin. Slytherin," It'd say. 

He felt uneasy, maybe mortified, and even more sick every time he dreamt it, which was constant. Through all that, paired with Terry's obnoxious snoring, he hadn't gotten even a wink of real sleep. Before he knew it, the sun had risen, and the other boys in the dorm had been awake. He thought maybe he'd get some food at breakfast, but he found himself forcing food down his throat. The thought of passing out on his broom made him think back to his nightmare-- and a couple people at the table had been trying to convince him he shouldn't risk not eating. Draco, who sat behind him, as usual, had looked queasy and pale as well.

Draco's owl had brought him the usual basket of sweets, and Hedwig brought Harry a basket of frosted pasties with a note of encouragement signed by "Narcissa M.", but anyone could tell that neither of them felt better. But then again, they were first years playing Quidditch, which was strictly prohibited by school rules-- it was expected. By eleven o'clock, Harry felt like his knees would've buckled if a slight breeze hit him, or if someone even breathed a little too strongly near him. Almost everyone from every House had been up in the stands, waiting for the game to start.

Lisa and Padma had been settled midway in the Ravenclaw stands, while Ron and Hermione had been at the top of the Gryffindor. In the Locker Room, either playing team had been dawning their appropriately coloured Quidditch robes; Ravenclaw in blue, Slytherin in green.

Etta cleared her throat, and faked a cough. Everyone on the Ravenclaw team looked at her. 

"Now that I have your attention.." She started, and took a deep breath. "Everyone. We may not be the team with a winning streak, or the team who's held the cup for almost a decade, but we are a good team. We are going to go out there, and do our best. We are going to thrive, and we are going to try. Ravenclaw, this year, is going to be our year. And if it's not, we'll try again next year." She said, and a few of them cheered. 

"That was lovely, Etta, good job," Penelope said, as they all walked out to the field. Madam Hooch, who was refereeing, had been waiting expectantly for both teams. Slytherin had been walking out the same time as them.

Harry didn't pay full attention to Madam Hooch as she spoke, but focused intently on Draco. He seemed calmer, much calmer, and his hair seemed to glow in the bright sunlight. Draco noticed Harry looking, and waved with a large smile. Harry waved back. When he turned forward, out the corner of his eye, he saw a blurry Padma and Lisa cheering loudly, using their wands to send blue sparks flying. 

Talk about team spirit, Harry thought, as Madam Hooch commanded everyone to their brooms. Harry stumbled onto his Nimbus Two-thousand, and Madam Hooch blew her silver whistle loudly.

And, suddenly, they were off; "And the Quaffle is taken immediately by Penelope Clearwater of Ravenclaw! Just how does she keep up being Prefect and best Ravenclaw Chaser?" Lee Jordan, a Gryffindor boy with dreadlocks, had been commentating. McGonagall had been keeping a close eye on him from behind. "And she's really soaring, proving that Ravenclaw name, close pass to Steve Malerr-- Oh! No, Slytherin Captain Marcus Flint obtains the Quaffle! He's going to sc-- oh, nope! Not a chance, thanks to Ravenclaw Keeper Henrietta Crocker! Excellent block there, Green grabs the Quaffle, slick move around Pucey-- OUCH! That must have hurt, hit in the back of the head by a Bludger! Quaffle taken by the Slytherins-- that's Draco Malfoy off to the goal posts, but he's blocked by a second Bludger-- sent his way by Roger Davies, Ravenclaw back in possession of the Quaffle, a clear field ahead and off goes Clearwater-- she's really flying-- dodges a speeding Bludger sent by Bole- the goal posts are ahead-- come on, now, Clearwater, can't miss now-- Keeper Bletchley dives-- ooh- he misses- RAVENCLAW SCORES!"

Cheers filled the air, followed by howls and cries from the Slytherins. "Budge up there, move along." 

"Hagrid?" Padma shrieked, surprised by Hagrid nearly pushing her. "Bin watchin' from me hut," Hagrid said, patting a large pair of binoculars around his neck.

"But it isn't the same as bein' in the crowd, yeh know. No sign o' the Snitch yet, eh?"

"No, Harry hasn't had much to do. He's been flying around the top there." Lisa pointed. Up in the sky, high above the game, Harry was flying in the air, keeping an eye out for the Snitch.

"Kept outta trouble, though, that's somethin'," said Hagrid, raising his binoculars and peering skyward at the speck that was Harry.

Way up above them, Harry was gliding over the game, squinting tightly for gold. He caught sight of a flash of gold near the stands, but it was just a reflection from one of the Weasleys twins' wristwatches, and once a Bludger decided to come for his head, Harry narrowly dodged it and Roger came chasing after it.

"All right there, Harry?" Roger yelled, as he threw the Bludger furiously toward Marcus Flint.

"Slytherin in possession," Lee Jordan was saying. "Chaser Pucey ducks two Bludgers, two Beaters, and Chaser Green, and speeds toward the-- wait a minute, was that the Snitch?"

A murmur ran through the crowd as Adrian Pucey dropped the Quaffle, too busy looking over his shoulder at the flash of gold that had passed his left ear. Draco flashed by, and caught the Quaffle before Penelope or Malerr could get it, and barely scored a goal, as Etta had been distracted too.

In a great rush of excitement Harry dived downward after the streak of gold. Slytherin Seeker Terence Higgs had seen it, too. All the Chasers seemed to have forgotten what they were supposed to be doing as they hung in midair to watch him and Harry race neck and neck for the Snitch.

Harry was faster than Higgs, by just a little less weight-- he could see the golden Snitch, it's little wings fluttering just ahead- he focused on only the Snitch, and suddenly, he was past Higgs. He reached out for the Snitch, but--

WHAM! A roar of rage echoed from the stands-- Flint had blocked Harry on purpose, and Harry's broom spun off course, barely holding on as it spun circles.

"Foul!" screamed the Ravenclaws.

Madam Hooch spoke angrily to Flint and then ordered a free shot at the goal posts for Ravenclaw. But in all the confusion, the Golden Snitch had disappeared from sight again.

Down in the Gryffindor stands, a boy was yelling, "Send him off-- red! Red card!" 

"What the world are you talking about, Dean?" asked Ron confusedly.

"Red card!" said Dean furiously. "In football you get shown the red card and you're out of the game!" 

"Dean, this isn't football," Ronald said.

Hagrid, in the Ravenclaw stands, had been conversing with Lisa.

"They oughta change the rules. Flint coulda knocked Harry outta the air." Hagrid said. 

"Exactly! That could've been fatal, and he's so young, too! What was Flint thinking?!" Lisa agreed.

Lee Jordan, meanwhile was finding it difficult not to take sides. "So, after that obvious and disgusting bit of cheating--" 

"Jordan!" growled McGonagall. 

"I mean, after that open and revolting foul-"

"Jordan, I am warning you."

"Alright, alright. Flint nearly kills the Ravenclaw Seeker, which could happen to anyone, I'm sure, so a penalty to Ravenclaw, taken by Clearwater, who puts it away, no trouble, and we continue play, Ravenclaw still in possession."

It was as Harry dodged another Bludger that came for his head, it happened. His broom gave a sudden lurch. For a moment, he thought he was going to fall, and that his nightmare would come true. He gripped the broom tightly with both his hands and knees.

He tried to steady it, but it bucked the exact opposite direction. It's trying to throw me off, he realised. He would've had half a mind to try and call over to Etta, but the broom was jumping so much he couldn't tell left from right, stand from goalpost, nor player from Bludger. His broom went one way, then the opposite way, and then making violent swishing movements every direction that almost unseated him.

Lee was still commentating. "Slytherin in possession-- Flint with the Quaffle-- passes Malerr-- passes Green-- Ooh! Flint hit hard in the face by a Bludger! Hope it broke his nose-- only kidding, Professor-- Malfoy steals the Quaffle and scores, near miss by Crocker.."

The Slytherins were cheering. No one seemed to have noticed that Harry's broom was acting strangely. It was carrying him slowly higher, away from the game, jerking and twitching as it went.

"'Dunno what Harry thinks he's doing," Hagrid mumbled. He stared through his binoculars. "If I didn't know better, I'd say he'd lost control of his broom...but he can't have...." 

Padma took the binoculars, and looked through them. "He has! He's not doing the thing he does when he's trying to go a certain direction! He's actually lost control of his broom!" She screamed, and suddenly, people had finally noticed and were pointing up at Harry all over the stands.

His broom had started to roll over and over, and flip side to side, with him only just managing to hold on. Then everyone gasped; Harry's broom had jumped while it spun and Harry swung off its side, now hanging from it, barely, by one hand.

"Can't 've happened when Flint knocked him over," Hagrid said, his voice shaking. "Can't nothing interfere wi' a broomstick except powerful Dark magic-- no kid could do that ter a Nimbus Two Thousand," 

"It probably is dark magic! Lisa, look!" Padma shook Lisa, pointing at where the teachers sat. 

"Snape?" Lisa asked. "No, no, it couldn't be, if--! I'll be right back! If Harry falls, do that spell he did back during the Troll attack, okay? Immobulus, remember that," Padma said, rushing away. Lisa took the binoculars, taking her wand out, just in case. 

Out on the field, nearly all of Ravenclaw team had been circling under Harry, prepared to catch him, while Flint had taken the Quaffle and scored five times. Draco took a bat from one of the mortified Beaters, and threw it at Flint, who was sent off course. 

"Padma, please, hurry up," Lisa muttered, biting her lip desperately. 

Padma ran along the stands, pushing her way through, and was suddenly running along the row behind him. "Hermione?!" she said quietly, shocked. Hermione had her wand out, extended to Snape's robes. 

"Padma! I've got it," She said, but Padma hit Hermione's wand, making it aim at Quirrell's foot. A sudden shriek let Padma know she had done right, because just as, there was a collective sigh of relief across the stands letting her know Harry had gotten back on his broom. She peeked out between the stands just in time to see Harry pulling himself back up on his broom as she dragged Hermione away before any of the professors realised. 

"Padma! Why would you do that?! It was Professor Snape!" Hermione asked.

"No, Hermione! It had to be Professor Quirrell! It sounds a bit odd, but let me ask you this-- Professor Snape has hair, doesn't he? You'd argue he would be genius enough to do any spell he knew well without having to speak. He was mumbling, right, but he wouldn't need to if he was doing a spell that would likely hurt a person. Wouldn't he know, as someone who was there during the first Wizarding War? he'd have to know how to do some things that would cause harm without a wand, and without speaking if he was in a war, wouldn't you think, Hermione?" Padma interrogated.

"I... actually... that makes.. a lot of sense.. but why would it be Professor Quirrell?" Hermione asked, as cheers spread across the crowd. Ravenclaw had scored, thanks to Etta kicking the Quaffle a little too hard. 

"Just a hitch." Padma said.

When she looked back out at the field, Harry was speeding towards the ground, but suddenly, he clasped his hands over his mouth and flew off his broom, hitting the ground before he had actually gotten close. The crowd gasped and paused in anticipation as he retched, hitting his throat. Something gold and glittering fell out of his mouth and into the grass. 

There was an uproar of cheers as he shouted-- "I got the Snitch!" 

Despite the conclusion being quite obvious, the game ended in total confusion. 

"He didn't catch it, he nearly swallowed it!" Flint screamed. He was still howling twenty minutes later, but it made no difference-- Harry hadn't broken any rules and the Ravenclaws were still cheering, Lee still shouting out the results. Ravenclaw won a hundred and seventy points to sixty. Harry heard none of it, however; He was being made a cup of hot tea in Hagrid's hut with his friends.

"It was Snape," Ron was explaining, "Hermione and I saw him. He was cursing your broomstick, Harry. Muttering, all that! He wouldn't take his eyes off you!"

"Rubbish!" Hermione said suddenly. Hagrid, who hadn't heard a word of what had been going on during the whole Harry's broomstick malfunctioning thing, agreed. "Why would Snape do somethin' like that?"

Ron and Hermione looked at one another, as if they knew something. 

"What?" Lisa asked.

"We saw him on Halloween. He was going to the Third-floor." Ron told Hagrid. "He tried to get past that three-headed dog on Halloween, and it bit him. We think he was trying to steal whatever it's guarding."

"Ronald thinks that. I think otherwise." Hermione said, looking at Padma. 

"How do you know about Fluffy?" Hagrid asked, shocked. 

"Fluffy?" Everyone else wondered.

"Yeah! Bought him off a Greek chappie I met in the pub las' year-- I leant him ter Dumbledore ter guard the-- er--"

"You haven't got to tell us, Hagrid." Harry insisted, thinking, Mainly because I already know. 

"Yes he does! Well, you don't have to, but we'd really like it if you did," Lisa encouraged, taking a long sip of tea.

"Nope, I can't. Top secret, that's it." Hagrid denied, and Harry just knew, that he really knew now. It had to have been the little Gringotts package. "And it's not 'im anyway. He's a Hogwarts teacher,"

"But Hagrid, he's trying to steal it!" Ron insisted. 

"Ronald, he is not! He is a professor!" Hermione scolded, slapping Ronald's hand. He slapped hers in turn.

"Actually, I agree. He couldn't be trying to take something if Headmaster Dumbledore got an, I don't know, three-headed dog to guard it? What's so important anyway?" Lisa wondered.

"Hogwarts is the safest place to store things, even before Gringotts. Well, I think so," Harry suggested.

"Yeah. Hogwarts is so large, and there's almost always someone around. Peeves would rat you out before you could say his name." Padma added. 

"But-" 

"Ronald! That's enough! We're going to enjoy eachothers company and be grateful that Harry isn't hurt! Drop! It!" Hermione snapped, and Ron, shocked, gulped down his tea and stopped talking about it.

"Good," Hagrid nodded. "Yeh better off not meddlin' in wha' doesn't concern yeh. Forget Fluffy, an' what he's guarding. That's between Professor Dumbledore an' Nicolas Flamel." 

"Flamel? Who's Flamel?" Padma asked, and Hagrid clasped his hands hard over his mouth. He was furious at himself, and Harry found himself wondering even hours after they had left for dinner;

What was Dumbledore hiding?

-

I literally just wanna comment on this;

Etta's name is actually Henrrietta lol