Harry Potter and the Pretty Sorcerer's Balls

Harry was greeted the next morning by exuberant waves and shouts of 'Hi Harry' from Crabbe and Goyle ... and a death look from Draco as the three Slytherins entered the Great Hall.

"Where were you last night?!" Draco fumed moments later, forgoing the Slytherin table completely and marching directly to Harry and Ron's seats on the Gryffindor side. "Don't you know there was a troll running around?" Ron and Harry gaped in shock and downright fear at Draco's mother hen routine. Neville too felt hell slowly freezing over and shrunk behind Harry in fright.

"Do you know what it's like to share a room with two crying idiots?" Draco continued venomously. "Both of them thinking little Harry missed the feast because he'd been eaten by a raving troll? And keeping me up all night in the process!" Ron, Harry, and Neville breathed a sigh of relief, and Harry began filling Draco in on the previous nights events - Hermione jumping in every so often to correct Harry's embellishments.

"You fought the troll." Draco kept his normally bored drawl under control while his face betrayed his anger.

Harry and Ron nodded.

"With ... with her," Draco sneered and pointed distastefully at Hermione.

The boys nodded again.

"And now she's sitting with you at breakfast."

They nodded a third time.

"But she's," Draco's voice finally broke, "- she's a -"
"Honey," Harry interrupted, "Whatever you're about to say, you'd better remember that you're saying it about my mum as well."

Draco reddened and glared at Ron and Harry who glared back, daring him to speak his mind. A ravenous growl interrupted the battle of wills as all eyes turned to Neville, who had his hands on his stomach.

"Breakfast," he whimpered nervously.

The boys turned to their plates - Harry setting one next to the empty seat beside him and pulling Draco down to eat with them.

"First of all -" Draco started, eyes still gleaming but speaking evenly again, "there's no way a troll broke into the castle. They're supposed to be dumb as posts. Someone must've let it in - maybe it was a Hallowe'en prank."

"A prank?" Harry squealed, "You don't think the twins did it? Do you?"

"Nah, they're jokers," Ron said through a mouthful of scrambled eggs, "but they'd never get anyone killed. Maimed maybe -"

"Jeez Weasley, spell it don't spill it." Draco snapped, flicking a piece of egg off his robe sleeve in disdain. He continued muttering under his breath - Harry was sure he heard something about uncouth Weasley's and muggle loving fools. Harry rolled his eyes and turned back to Ron.

Ron blushed and swallowed before continuing, "Still, trolls are too dangerous even for those two."

"But who else would do such a thing?" Hermione asked.

"Who asked you?!" Draco exploded again.

"Actually, I'm asking you." Hermione countered nervously.

"Oh shut up."

Once Quidditch season - and Oliver Wood's rather insane training schedule - kicked in, Hermione was instrumental in keeping Harry focused on his studies.

The day before his first Quidditch match, Harry paced back and forth in the common room.

"Harry calm down."

"You're driving us nutters!"

"I can't help it!" Harry squealed. "I've never played on a team before!"

"You'll do fine -" Hermione started again.

"What if I don't catch the Snitch?" Harry wailed. "What if I fall off my broom? What if I'm playing and I realise I haven't put my knickers on?"

"Harry," Ron snorted, "I won't let you leave the dorm without knickers tomorrow, I promise."

"And what if I catch the Snitch and we trounce Slytherin and Draco hates me?"
"Then maybe Crabbe and Goyle will hate you too and they'll stop waving at you all the time." Hermione said, perking Ron up, at least.

"That could be good, don't you think, Harry? It's getting kind of weird."

"There are rabid butterflies in my tummy!" Harry wailed again, ignoring them both. "I'm going for a walk."

"Don't forget," Hermione called after him as he made his way to the portrait hole, "We're meeting that spoiled evil brat in the library later." Harry nodded absently as he climbed through.

The walk served him well. After wandering aimlessly for a while, Harry found that the bounce had returned to his step. He'd be fine the next day - once he was off the ground with the wind in his hair and Mr Nimble between his legs, he'd be dandy. More than dandy, he'd be absolutely fabulous. He'd catch the Snitch and be swept up in an Oliver Wood Weasley twin sandwich - and absolutely fabulous wouldn't even begin to cover it. Oliver would see that Seekers were much better than Quidditch balls and -

"Damned hound!" a shout from the left jolted Harry out of his fantasy.

Harry gasped at the statement and moved toward the source of the sound. He was outside of the staff room. He bit his lip and held his breath and slowly pushed the door just slightly ajar.

Snape and Filch were inside, alone. Had the hound not been mentioned, Harry would have been extremely miffed at having once been called a 'dandy' by the very man now hitching his robes up above his knees. But Harry was soon assured that he hadn't espied a naughty moment, one of Snape's legs was bloody and mangled. Filch handed him a roll of bandages.

"Blasted thing," Snape snapped, "How are you supposed to keep your eyes on all three heads at once?"

Harry knew he was already pressing his luck and eased the door back into place. Quidditch woes now completely forgotten, Harry bolted from the staff room to meet his friends in the library.

"He what?" Draco exclaimed.

"I bet it happened on Hallowe'en!" Ron burst in, "I saw him pass by when I was waiting outside the loo - I thought it was strange that he wasn't at the feast -"

"You saw him? Why didn't you say something earlier?!" Harry squealed.

"I forgot - and it didn't seem important until now. That would have been about the time the Great Hall was being evacuated - no other professors passed by."

"They were all going to the dungeon to look for the troll." Draco added, being the only one of the four that had attended the feast.

"What could be under that trapdoor that's worth being attacked by that horrible beast?" Hermione murmured.

"You told her about the trapdoor?!" Draco exclaimed.

"I was there you know," Hermione spat, "I saw for myself what that dog was standing on."

While Draco seethed, Ron and Harry got Hermione up to speed on the Gringotts' attack and Hagrid's parcel.

"Oh my gosh!" Hermione eyes widened to saucers, "If that's really what's under the trapdoor - and it surely is - Snape may have been after it for ages, it could have been him that attacked you in Gringotts!"

Even Draco's mouth dropped.

"That would explain why he seems to hate you more than the rest of the Gryffindors, Harry." Ron concluded.

The next morning dawned very bright and cold. The excitement of the upcoming Quidditch match filled the Great Hall with an electric buzz.

Harry squirmed and wiggled with nerves.

"Harry, you're not eating." Hermione wheedled.

"I need chocolate!" he squealed, "Who eats sausages for breakfast anyway?!" He finally piled his plate with his usual scones - adding extra dollops of cream - and on Neville's suggestion, marshmallows. Seamus pulled a couple of chocolate frogs out of his pocket and added them to the mix.

"Breakfast of champions," a voice sneered behind him. Harry grinned up at Draco and the brutes.

"Good luck today Harry!" Crabbe and Goyle smiled broadly. Draco sent the two ahead to claim seats on the pitch.

"We'll be in the Slytherin stands but I'll find you after the game."

Ron told him they were meeting Hagrid for tea after the match, through a mouthful of sausage and beans, managing to keep all bits in his mouth. Draco agreed to meet them at the hut and left for the pitch.

"Breakfast of champions?" Hermione smirked, "How very muggle of him."

"I don't think he knows." Harry grinned.

By eleven o'clock the stands were filled with what seemed to be the entire Hogwarts population. Ron and Hermione joined Neville, Seamus, and Dean up in the top row, and were soon met by Hagrid.

"I usually watch from me hut," he said as he settled in, "But I had to see Harry's firs' game up close, didn' I?"

As a surprise for Harry, the students had painted a large banner on one of the sheets Scabbers had ruined. It said Ride it Harry! and Dean, who was good at art, had painted a large Gryffindor lion underneath. Hermione had performed a tricky little charm so that the lion would bat its long exaggerated eyelashes and tap its scarlet painted claws.

Soon the teams had emerged from the changing rooms and took to the air. Lee Jordan, the Weasley twins' friend, was doing the commentary for the match, being closely watched and heavily chastised by Professor McGonagall for his girl watching and colourful language.

The game wore on and the teams were exchanging goals. Just as Lee was commenting about the female chasers fine forms, Harry caught his first sight of the Snitch.

He grinned and squeezed Mr Nimble beneath him, then veered down sharply in a dive for the streak of gold. Slytherin Seeker Terence Higgs had seen it too. Neck and neck they hurtled towards the Snitch - the Chasers pausing mid air to watch them.

Harry was faster than Higgs, his broom more an extension of his body than a piece of equipment. He could see the little round ball darting ahead of him, golden wings fluttering - he flattened himself against his broom for an extra burst of speed and reached out his hand to grab the prize -

"Harry seems to be doing a victory dance - I think he's caught the Snitch!" Lee called.

The crowd held its breath and waited for Harry to stop his broomstick waltz and produce the Snitch, both teams came to a halt, unsure whether the game was over or not.

Harry reeled back and forth, holding onto his broom for dear life. He tried to control the broom to no avail and briefly considered that this was simply a part of the game he hadn't heard about. A magically induced way to notify the referee that the Snitch had been caught. But Madam Hooch didn't seem to have called the game to an end. And that didn't explain the terrible ache erupting in his head. The broom pitched forward again.

"Calm down there Harry!" Lee called, "Enough is enough."

"Harry Potter," Professor McGonagall's voice rang out now, "Stop that, this instant!"

Harry knew now that something was surely very wrong. He didn't dare take a hand off of his broom and just spat the still fluttering Snitch out of his mouth where it had been engulfed when Flint sent his broom astray.

"Help!" Harry wailed. Madam Hooch finally called the game and Lee announced the Gryffindor victory. Harry's broom was carrying him higher and higher, jerking and twitching as it went.

A few screams were heard scattered throughout the stands, Harry's broom had started to roll over and over, with him only just managing to hold on.

"Do you think he lost control of the dance?" Neville asked tearfully.

"That was no dance Neville," Seamus answered. "Maybe something happened to Harry's broom when he got hit?

"Can't 'ave," Hagrid answered, his voice shaking. "Can't nothin' interfere with a broomstick except powerful dark magic - no kid could do that to a Nimbus Two Thousand."

At these words, Hermione seized Hagrid's binoculars and began peering frantically at the crowd.

"What are you doing?" Ron moaned, his face completely grey.

"I knew it," Hermione gasped. "Snape's jinxing the broom - look!"

Ron grabbed the binoculars as Hermione fled from their seats. Snape was in the middle of the stands opposite them. He had his eyes fixed on Harry and was muttering non-stop under his breath.

Harry grappled with the mutinous broom frantically, the pain in his head would not subside and threatened to knock him to the ground if the broom could not. Then suddenly - it was gone. The broom steadied and Harry sped to the ground as fast as he dared, followed closely by his fellow Quidditch players. The crowd breathed a sigh of relief and began to pour out of the stands, many of them swelling onto the pitch to find out what had happened.

"Get Harry out of there an' bring him to me hut." Hagrid left shakily.

"Harry!" Ron shouted pulling Harry away from the Slytherins now disputing the catch and the celebrating Gryffindors who knew that the catch was legal (if unorthodox). "Are you okay?" Harry and Ron met Hermione and began making their way to Hagrid's hut. "It was Snape! We saw him muttering something and staring straight at you - he was cursing the broom!" To Ron's puzzlement, Harry shook his head in disagreement.

"I think he must have seen you last night and he's trying to keep you from telling anyone."

"He didn't see me, I'm sure of it."

"Harry, I didn't want to believe it either, I mean, really, a professor! But we saw him - and then as soon as I ... um, well - set him on fire, your broomstick stopped trying to throw you."

Harry jaw dropped to the ground at Hermione's pronouncement. "Well I don't know how your setting fire to Snape stopped the curse but it wasn't him who gave Mr Nimble a shake." He paused and hushed his voice dramatically. "It was Quirrell."

"Harry, this is serious!" Hermione scolded.

Harry glared at her and pouted his lip. "I am serious!"

"Harry," Ron started gently, "the man had to sit on the toilet because an unconscious troll was in the room with him - the three of us managed to stay standing but he had to sit on the can."

"Professor Quirrell just doesn't have it in him to hurt anyone," Hermione continued, "he can barely make it through his own class without fainting."

"Well being a 'fraidy cat is the perfect cover for a crazed maniac if you ask me." Harry narrowed his eyes. "Look, if I hadn't felt what I did, I'd be the first one looking in Snape's direction - especially after what I saw last night - but it had to be Quirrell! There was a pain in my head when Mr Nimble started to wiggle that was just like the ache I get in Quirrell's class!"

"Harry, we saw Professor Snape, he was jinxing the broom, I'm sure of it." Hermione tried to reason with him. "You get those headaches because of the smell."

"That's what I thought too - but you don't get them, and Ron doesn't get them. Goodness, Hermione, Neville doesn't even get them and he's more delicate than I am! It's Quirrell. I think ... I think my head hurts in his class because he's out to get me - and it hurt a zillion times worse today because -"

"Because he was trying to knock you off your broom." Ron ventured contemplatively.

"But why?" Hermione asked, "why would he try to kill you? Because that's what would have happened if you fell off the broom today, Harry. You would have died."

The three shared a look, fully comprehending just how close Harry came to death that afternoon. They startled as a hand grabbed Harry's shoulder from behind, spinning him around in a fury.

"What the hell do you think you were doing up there?!" Draco bellowed. "Look at me!" he pulled the sleeves of his robes up to reveal red and purple blotches littering his forearms. "And the rest of me is even worse!"

"Crabbe and Goyle?" Ron asked, trying - and failing - to hide his amusement.

"Are you trying to get me killed? Because that's what'll happen if you keep up with this death wish of yours! Huge dogs - trolls - now this! Bloody Gryffindors!"

"Get a hold of yourself - what kind of a Malfoy are you, anyway?" Ron teased as Draco regained his composure in a flash. "Someone was jinxing Harry's broom."

"What?" Draco's eyes widened against his will.

"We saw Professor Snape -" Hermione added, gulping as Draco narrowed his eyes at her. "He had his eyes locked on Harry - he wasn't even blinking - and he was muttering something the entire time."

"You would know." Draco widened his glare to include Ron as well.

"We have to tell Professor Dumbledore." Hermione said.

"What would you do that for?" Draco fumed.

"Well he's trying to steal whatever that three-headed dog's guarding for one thing, and he just tried to kill Harry -"

"Kill Harry? Professor Snape is the most powerful wizard at this school -" Ron and Hermione narrowed their eyes at Draco's slight against the Headmaster, "- if he wanted Harry to fall off his broom, Harry wouldn't have had a chance."

"See?" Harry stuck his tongue out at Ron and Hermione. "It had to have been Quirrell - he's not a good enough wizard to knock Mr Nimble out from under me now is he?" Ron and Hermione had to agree.

Harry went on to explain his theory about Quirrell and the pain in his head.

"Coming from your scar, you said?" Draco asked.

Harry nodded and rubbed his forehead with a pout.

"Maybe you're onto something. You got that scar after the Dark Lord tried to kill you - maybe now it hurts whenever someone wants you dead."

"I don't know, Malfoy," Ron found a fatal flaw in his reasoning. "I think if that was true, Harry's scar would have hurt a long time before now." He raised his eyebrows at Harry who nodded in understanding.

"The remaining Death Eaters, you mean? I guess some of them may have wanted Harry dead but maybe it only works if someone's actually trying to kill him."

Ron and Harry nodded to each other again. Even if the Dursleys had actually wanted Harry dead, they had never really done anything about it.

"I don't know," Draco continued. "If Professor Snape wanted to kill Harry, I think he would have found a way to do it already - and he wouldn't have muggled it up. Quirrell could muggle it but why would he want to kill Harry?"

"We know they were both up to something though - because we saw Snape and Harry felt Quirrell - " Hermione broke off and threw her arms around Harry, "Oh Harry! If you're not going to tell a Professor, then you'll at least be extra careful, won't you?" she pleaded, patting Harry's shoulder, while Ron and Draco shared a determined look and nodded to each other. Harry was in danger and wasn't to be left alone for a second.

They had reached Hagrid's hut and were bustled in quickly. After a quick introduction to Draco, Hagrid sat them all down to cups of hot tea and - with muffled snorts from Ron and Draco - cupcakes.

"Now, little dainty, just what happened up there?" Hagrid said, his voice still slightly shaky.

The group filled Hagrid in on what had happened - and their ideas about who was responsible.

"Rubbish!" Hagrid said in response but his tone betrayed a hint of worry. "I don' know why yer broom acted like that, little dainty, but Quirrell and Snape are both Hogwarts professors and would never try to kill a student!"

"Would a Hogwarts professor try to get past that three-headed dog? Because Snape gave it a shot on Hallowe'en and has the bite on his leg to prove it."

Hagrid nearly choked on his tea, "How do you know about Fluffy?" he sputtered.

"Fluffy?!" the group exclaimed in unison.

"Yeah - he's mine - bought him off a Greek chappie I met at the pub las' year - I lent him to Dumbledore to guard - " the group held their breath in anticipation, "- somethin' he needs guardin'."

They slumped in their seats.

"Now, listen to me, all of yeh - yer meddlin' in things that don' concern yeh. It's dangerous. Yeh forget that dog, an' yeh forget what it's guardin', that's between Professor Dumbledore and Nicolas Flamel -" Hagrid clamped his jaw together to keep from saying any more, then hastened them out of the hut, laden with cupcakes.

Hermione gasped, "They're working together!" She hit her hand to her forehead. "Quirrell is the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor - surely he should know how to handle a troll - so why did he run away from it instead of trapping it or knocking it out like we did?"

"All the students were sent to the dorms and the professors went to the dungeons to find the troll -" Draco continued.

"Leaving the third floor corridor completely empty." Hermione finished. Draco and Hermione shared a nod before grimacing and glaring at each other.

"I still don't understand how Harry figures into all of this?" Ron questioned. The group shrugged. "You don't think it's a sort of pact do you? You know, Quirrell kills Harry for Snape and Snape gets the thing under the trapdoor for Quirrell."

"Or maybe whichever one of them that was at Gringotts that day thinks Harry can identify him!" Hermione exclaimed.

"Enough already!" Harry whined. "Can we talk about something besides the conspiracy against me?"

The group continued quietly for a few moments.

"Nice catch on the pitch today," Draco sneered, breaking the silence. "You should know that most Seekers prefer to catch the Snitch with their hands."

"You know," Harry giggled, "the Snitch tastes a lot like a Ken doll."

"What? Why did you put a Ken doll in your mouth?" Hermione asked, puzzled.

"Um ..." Harry began to blush redder than even Ron had ever been, "No reason." Draco and Ron snorted while Hermione reddened worse than Harry.