1975

Chapter IV - The Long Night

Despite Alysoun Crouch's predictions, Dumbledore did not interrupt the game. At nine-o'clock, he sent the students inside, conjured lights for the players, and tried to calm the furious McGonagall, who had insisted on intervention. The score was 150-120 Slytherin and Lockhart showed no propensity to catch the Snitch.

"I could kill Dumbledore," said Kenneth, as they meekly trooped into the school. "He gets to watch the game."

"My father will hear about this," promised Evan.

"You're always writing to your father to rescue us," said Severus. "And does it work? Our parents just laugh. We're almost killed and they talk approvingly of how we're being toughened up."

"This is Quidditch, Severus!" objected Evan.

"Not just some run of the mill near-death experience," added Kenneth.

"Shush," warned Severus.

Pettigrew, Lupin, and Black raced past. Kenneth glared after them. "Why are they so cheerful?"

"They're a strange bunch," said Severus softly. "They know a good deal about the castle."

Kenneth frowned. "Do you think they're sneaking out somehow?"

"Narcissa Crouch mentioned that Ludo Bagman told her that Cynthia Rookwood had heard Bertha Jorkins say that Remus Lupin..." began Severus slowly.

"So we know that the information is reliable," interjected Evan.

"If you'd prefer not to hear what I have to say," said Severus in his dangerous voice.

"Charge ahead, Severus."

"Last year, after the final match, Gryffindor had a party..."

"You had to bring that up." Evan did not care to dwell on the distasteful defeat Slytherin had suffered. It had been the occasion of his hasty expulsion from the Slytherin house team back to the reserves.

"Lupin left an hour after the game and didn't return for about three hours. And he came back with heaps of Honeyduke's chocolates."

Evan's and Ken's eyes widened.

"Well, he could have robbed the infirmary," suggested Kenneth.

"It's not too difficult to get out of Hogwarts," said Evan. "They say Lucius Malfoy used an invisibility cloak to do it. Potter might have one. You know his family."

Kenneth shrugged. "You can't watch a Quidditch game comfortably from underneath an invisibility cloak, anyway."

"That's taking it very calmly, Kenneth," said Severus.

"Severus, what can we do?" asked Evan. "With Dumbledore around, they could get away with murder."

Severus said nothing.

"Rosier, Snape, Avery," barked a teacher. "To your common room. Five points from Slytherin for loitering."

* * * * * * * *

The Three Broomsticks was crowded with witches and wizards who had come up to Hogwarts for the remarkable game between Gryffindor and Slytherin. Most were old Slytherins and the crowd was a sea of green and silver.

"I don't think there are any vacant tables," Madam Rosmerta told Alysoun Crouch. "We're adding some space, but that'll take a little while."

"Mrs. Crouch," came a voice. "Mrs. Crouch. This table's nearly empty."

The owner of the voice was a young man with silvery blond hair and a pale pointed face.

"Lucius Malfoy," said Alysoun nodding stiffly.

"There's room at this table," he repeated, smiling.

"Thank you." Both Narcissa and Barty knew she accepted out of civility. Malfoy was a frowned-upon surname in the Crouch household.

"Are these your children?" asked Malfoy, once they had taken their seats.

"This is my son, Bartemius, and my sister-in-law, Narcissa."

"I'm pleased to meet you," said Malfoy offering his hand. Barty did not extend his in return. Narcissa nervously did. His hand was cold.

"Up here to cheer on Slytherin?" asked Malfoy.

"Gryffindor, actually," said Alysoun. Her smile was very slight.

"Of course." He looked amused. "My sympathies are with you in this difficult time. You two are in Slytherin, though?" he asked Narcissa and Barty.

"Yes," said Narcissa.

"I thought so," said Malfoy. "I don't know what the world would be coming to if a Crouch wasn't sorted into Slytherin. How is your husband, Mrs. Crouch?"

"He's busy these days. There's quite a bit of work to be done at the Ministry."

" I suppose it's been quite harsh since Capper's death."

"Somewhat. We don't discuss that in front of the children, Mr. Malfoy."

"I'm sorry. You're right. Little pitchers have big ears and all that." He tousled Barty's hair. Alysoun winced and Barty looked disgusted. "Not that they're very little anymore." He glanced at Narcissa in a way that bothered Alysoun.

"Barty's only twelve, and Narcissa's fourteen," she said.

"Fifteen next Friday," said Narcissa quickly.

"And I'm thirteen in January," added Barty, making his first and final contribution to the conversation.

* * * * * * * *

The partying in the Slytherin common room went unchecked long into the night. The Slytherin reserve players were sent to bed, but otherwise, Frank Longbottom secured a place as the most popular prefect in recent history by refusing to put a stopper in the celebration. He placed guards outside the common room, in fact, to warn of impending visits from Professor Vindictus Viridian, the extremely unpopular Head of Slytherin House. It was a well-known fact that Professor Viridian took more points from his own house than any other.

"I wish we knew what was happening in the game," Frank complained after a while. "For all we know, we could be celebrating a Slytherin defeat by now."

"Well, send out a spy," suggested one of his friends.

"I think I will," said Frank, after a moment's thought. He waved his wand. "Silencete Omnes!"

Immediately, the common room fell silent. They didn't look very happy. There was nothing most of them hated more than a Universal Silencing Charm. Unforunately for them, Frank Longbottom had mastered the knack three months before and now used it indiscriminately whenever he had something to say to his Slytherins.

"Don't look at me that way, Quimby," said Frank. "I have an announcement to make that will give you all great pleasure. I have decided that we need a report of the game's progress. I therefore propose to send out a spy."

The common room door swung open and the sentries rushed in. "Viridian's coming!"

There was a stampede for the staircase to the dormitories.

"Stay where you are!" yelled Frank. Umbrasfacio!" The lights dimmed.

A minute later, Viridian himself entered. He was in his dressing gown, his long brown hair untidy, and his face showing marks of evident displeasure.

"What is going on here?" he asked briskly.

"People are quietly relaxing, sir," said Frank with a yawn.

"Why aren't you all in bed?"

"Do the school rules say we should be?"

"They do indeed, Mr. Longbottom. Any more lip and I'll be taking points from you."

"As far as I can recall, sir, the rules ask for reasonable quiet after a certain hour. And you must admit we are being eerily quiet. The common room has from the dawn of recorded history been regarded as a place of relaxation, almost sacred in its connotations. I can refer you sir to the 1621 revolt by the students when the Puritan headmaster of the time, Hezekiah Roundhead, implemented certain restrictions on the student body including..."

"Shut up, Longbottom!"

"Very good sir."

"Go to bed, all of you!" No one budged.

"I'm sure we could find a way out of this impasse, Professor," said Frank cheerily. "Would you like me to go to the Headmaster with you?"

Viridian stared at him, then finally shook his head. "No, Longbottom. Not tonight. Monday morning I expect to see you in my office." He turned and abruptly left.

Frank waited a minute before returning to his plan. "Professor Viridian having gone to research the case law of the common room, you may continue as you were once I've finished talking. As mentioned beforehand, we need a spy to inform us of the game's progress. Any volunteers?"

No one was particularly surprised when Severus Snape raised his hand.

"If you are caught, we will, of course, deny all knowledge of you, and leave you to Filch's tender mercies," Frank briefed him.

Severus's eyes glittered, and a rare smile lit up his face. "Agreed."

Creeping out of Hogwarts at night was an easy task.. The staff really did not care. Lucius Malfoy was still renowned for his midnight adventures with an alleged invisibility cloak, but Severus did not see the need for one. A student could easily get onto the grounds from the school. (Only the most brave, resourceful, and stupid left the grounds without going through the guarded gates.) This night, however, the staff were on guard and an invisibility cloak would have come in handy.

Filch was watching over the door with his cat, Mrs. Norris. Severus fingered his wand, then crept along the wall and crouched behind a suit of armour. So far, so good. Miraculously, Mrs. Norris had seen nothing. "Serpensortia!" he whispered.

The result was favourable. Filch screamed and ran from the Slytherin emblem brought to life, followed by Mrs. Norris. Severus slipped through the doors and raced for cover. Filch would guess the culprit was a Slytherin, but Filch always suspected Slytherins.

It was easy going from there on. At fifteen, he was already tall, so that wrapped in his cloak he could mix with the crowd. The score, however, shocked him. 220-190 Gryffindor.

"What happened?" he asked a dejected Slytherin fan.

"Our Chasers are going to pieces. They took their two hours time out, but it doesn't seem to make any difference. And, of course, we can't switch over to reserves. Gryffindor could actually field Hanrahan then. His bones are mended by now, I should guess."

"He's got a bad cough," said Severus. "I doubt the matron would let him play."

"Really?" said the wizard, his face lightening up. "Lucius, come here. Hanrahan has a cough."

Severus was surprised to see Lucius Malfoy, the Lucius Malfoy, the legendary Slytherin hero, turn around. "Where did you hear that?"

"This.... sorry, I don't know your name," continued the fan. "My name's Crabbe, Nicholas Crabbe."

"Severus Snape," he said.

"I know the name. What are you doing out tonight?" asked Malfoy.

"I'm spying on the game for the Slytherin common room. I'm not looking forward to bringing back this score."

"No. . . . You said Hanrahan had a cough. That won't keep him from playing, will it?"

"It's pretty bad. He's in quarantine, actually. Your cousin Roland Wilkes gave him the cold."

"Good for Roland. We do have the Gryffindors in a fix, don't we?" drawled Malfoy. "How are our reserves?"

"They've been sleeping since half past nine."

"Perfect. Does Avery know this?"

"Captain Avery? No."

"I'll have to see about explaining to him then," said Malfoy. Bowing to Severus, he walked away quietly to deliver his message.

"He's a deep one," said Crabbe.

"Really?" said Severus contemptuously.

That Lucius Malfoy was a deep one, Severus did not doubt. He wouldn't have been surprised if Malfoy turned out to be deep in He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's affairs. While Malfoy was a hero to many of the Slytherins for his adventures, others saw him as a villain. Severus remembered one particularly nasty scene in the common room the previous year. Someone had expressed admiration of Malfoy's career as the Slytherin Seeker, and eleven-year-old Barty Crouch, always one to give his opinion on any subject, had said exactly what he thought of Lucius Malfoy, leaving the other student in tears.

"But it was true," protested Barty, when Frank Longbottom took him by the ear and yanked him into a corner to talk.

"I don't really care," Frank had said. "There's no reason on earth to send your classmates into howling fits over an innocent Quidditch discussion."

"It's not innocent," protested Barty. "It's Death-Eaterish."

Frank had fought to repress a smile. Barty's freckled face and mop of fair hair were in huge contrast to the dark, elegant looks of the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcment, but it was the same voice speaking, the same way of looking at the universe.

* * * * * * *

"You're sitting on my foot, Peter. Does that bother you?"

"No, shush."

The conversation suddenly registered with Severus. He froze, then pulled his hood further over his face and cautiously looked about. No one was in sight. Well, that was to be expected. He could swear the voices belonged to Black and Pettigrew, and that they and Lupin were somewhere about with the invisibility cloak he had guessed at long ago. He walked away for two minutes, counting out the time patiently, before creeping back. It was a dark night and he did not think they would see him crouched behind the bushes. His patience was almost immediately rewarded.

"Coast's clear again," came Pettigrew's voice. "You're much too noisy, Sirius."

"James would never forgive us if we lost his cloak," said Lupin. Then, suddenly, where before there had been nothing, the three boys appeared. Lupin was holding a cloak.

"I don't think James will forgive us for taking it anyway without his permission," said Pettigrew, stretching out his arms. "He's bound to be in a bad mood after this fiasco. Owww! My back hurts!"

"But we're winning," insisted Black.

"Be reasonable, Sirius," said Lupin. "Not for very long. James is flying well, considering he's only had two hours of sleep tonight, but he can't keep it up. Sooner or later, Gilderoy Lockhart will defeat us."

"Why are you such a pessimist, Remus?" asked Black.

"Lowered expectations are a good life-strategy," Pettigrew said.

"Am I pessimistic?" said Lupin. Severus could not see his face, but he could bet it wore a twisted smile. How he had learnt to loathe that twisted smile!

"You are. Did you think you were a ray of sunshine?" asked Black.

"A spot of sunshine at least?" asked Lupin.

"It's just a joke, Remus," said Pettigrew. "You're too serious."

Snape waited for the inevitable rejoinder, "No, I'm Sirius," but it didn't come. Apparently, Black acted differently with his friends than he did in class.

"You're not too serious," said Black thoughtfully. "If you tried to lighten up, I wouldn't like you. Peter?"

"Of course not. So you're under strict orders, Remus, not to lighten up, or we will disown you."

This was not what Severus wanted to hear, this affirmation session, but patience was Severus's forte. He lay flat on the ground and listened.

* * * * * * * * *

Malfoy had delivered the message to Edmund Avery, who called a Time Out and then announced the decision to switch to reserves. Gryffindor hastily agreed and the reserves were put in for five hours.

As soon as they left off, the Slytherin team raced to their dormitory.

"No, we're not talking," said Edmund, as they rushed in. "We're taking over the seventh year boys' dormitory, do you mind, Frank? None of you are sleeping anyway." He turned to his team, "So I can keep an eye on you all and make sure you really sleep. Frank, where's the poppy juice?"

"Opium?" asked Alison Howard, shocked out of near sleepwalk.

"Not quite," said Frank, stifling a laugh. "There's a flask of sleeping draught in the medicine cabinet, but Viridian sealed it. I think we can unhex it open in a few minutes. Jorkins, over here a second!"

"Upstairs, now!" said Edmund, chivvying his players along. The Slytherin reserve players were coming down, rubbing their eyes.

"Hanrahan's not playing, is he?" asked Evan Rosier, pulling on his gloves.

"No," replied a chorus of voices. Florence Jorkins, meanwhile, had been put to work opening the medicine cabinet. Sleeping draughts were supposed to be kept out of reach of students and Viridian refused to dispense them for such silly purposes as winning Quidditch games. He was really not much of a Slytherin. People suspected that he had been appointed Head of House because Dumbledore thought nastiness was the defining Slytherin quality.

"I forgot to ask Edmund if he'd seen Snape," Longbottom said, as the reserve players left. "I wonder where he's got to."

* * * * * * * *

Severus was still lying on his stomach, eavesdropping on the Gryffindors. He was almost frozen and he blamed it entirely on Lupin, Black, and Pettigrew, whose conversation was continuously inane. He was going to leave with nothing for himself and he'd be in hot water the moment he set foot in the Slytherin common room.

"So when do we go wandering again?" asked Black.

"Wandering?" snorted Lupin. "I'm not going anywhere unless you submit a well thought-out plan in advance. You and Peter are lucky not to be dead after last week."

"It wouldn't have happened, Remus," said Black, "If you and James hadn't insisted on feeding your fat faces in Honeyduke's rather than looking for your missing comrades."

"You said you'd meet us in Honeyduke's," said Lupin testily.

"Let's not start this again," said Pettigrew. "We all made mistakes."

"Did we, Peter? Name mine," said Lupin coldly.

"I'm trying to smooth out a quarrel, Remus," said Peter.

"Neither of you would consider an apology, of course," said Lupin.

"Of course not," said Black breezily. "We don't need to apologize. We just look at each other and know that we're all right again."

"I'm sorry, Remus," said Pettigrew.

There was an awkward silence. Now that Lupin had finally received the apology he'd been demanding, he had nothing to say.

"How about Tuesday night?" Pettigrew finally asked.

"No, I couldn't be there," said Lupin quickly.

"I forgot," said Pettigrew. The conversation turned to Quidditch again, so Severus decided to make his exit. He had something for his pains, at least. He would try to make sense of it later.

Re-entering Hogwarts posed no problem. Filch was sure to be there, waiting for the student who had set the snake on him. Yet, Severus had chosen his spells carefully. Filch never retaliated. Severus had his suspicions about Filch.

And then, it happened. Hours later, he would shake his head at what he did. Years later, he would regard this as one of the few providential moments of his earlier days at Hogwarts. It saved him a good deal of difficulty over the next twenty years, but he had no idea of that then. He saw Mrs. Norris drowning in a rain-barrel and he pulled her out. Something heavy hit him on the head.

"Got you!" he heard Filch yell as he hit the ground. Then, "Mrs. Norris! You SAVED Mrs. Norris!"

**********

Evan could barely believe his luck. Here he was at three in the morning playing Hogwarts Quidditch in front of audience of appreciative adults. The score was 240-210 for Gryffindor, but he was ready to change that.

"Rosier takes the Quaffle." What heaven to hear one's name again! "Passes to Quimby. Slytherin scores!"

The crowd cheered loudly. Lockhart had been entertaining, but lousy Quidditch had begun to wear on their nerves.

It was five o'clock when Alysoun Crouch, dragged by her enthusiastic son, entered the stands. "270-270!" yelled Barty in delight.

"Reserves are playing," mumbled the not quite awake Narcissa.

"Who's Seeker for Gryffindor?" asked Barty, suddenly alarmed.

"I don't know. They don't have another reserve Seeker," said Narcissa.

Barty peered at the game, then whistled. "I think it's Aidan Lynch."

"Never heard of him," said Narcissa

"He's in my year. I've played with him, Cissa. He's good."

Patroclus Peasgood, the Slytherin reserve Seeker, was finding out much the same thing. For one who wasn't even on the Gryffindor reserve team, Lynch flew amazingly. He had two more hours to hold Lynch off the Snitch and he wasn't sure he could.

As he was came to this realization, Lynch reached out, his hands almost about the gleaming flash of the Snitch. It was too far away for Peasgood to reach. However, before Lynch could hand victory to Gryffindor, Evan Rosier slammed into him. The resulting penalty shot for skinning gave Gryffindor another goal, but Evan was congratulated all around.

Lynch never did seem to recover from the collision. Come seven o'clock, Gryffindor was leading 290-280, but the Snitch was as unobtainable as if Lockhart were playing.

At seven, the teams switched, and Dumbledore let the rest of the student body come out as well. The players had come straight from their beds, and they looked it. Except for Lockhart, who had apparently got up early to attend to his hair. He had never looked handsomer than he did in the grey of that morning. Ludo Bagman, however, looked like a bat out of hell, and did justice to his looks. He was out for blood and he got it. Five minutes after the game had restarted, Potter sported a broken and bloody nose courtesy of Bagman's Bludger handling. Quite a few of the Gryffindor girls started shrieking.

"Stop fussing," Black ordered a classmate. "He'll be proud as hell of that broken nose. Just wait and see."

300-300.

"You can go for the Snitch now!" Edmund Avery said.

"No, you can't," said Bagman.

"Go for it, Alison!" said Avery.

"If you do, I'll never speak your name again!" shouted Ludo Bagman.

"Who's the captain here? Alison, go for the Snitch."

The time out ended. Bagman drew his finger across his throat, giving Alison something to think about in making her decision. It might not have been wise, but she sympathized with Bagman. She too wanted a perfect game. There was no danger of Lockhart catching the Snitch in the end. Of course, catching the Snitch oneself was difficult work. She understood Avery's viewpoint: Don't give Gryffindor an opportunity to rack up the points. They had come this far playing a dangerous game, giving Quidditch a horribly Slytherinesque touch, and. . . . She decided to wait for 310.

Getting those 310 points was far more difficult than they had imagined.

By now, everyone knew that was their aim and the knowledge gave the Gryffindors a last desperate burst of energy.

Quaffle in hand, James Potter was about to shoot when Ludo Bagman, too far away to interfere, hit a Bludger into the crowd.

"I'd hate to be in his shoes once he gets off the field," said Longbottom, grinning.

"It's not funny, Longbottom," screamed Laura Hardisty, the Gryffindor prefect. "That madman shouldn't even be allowed to play Quidditch!"

McGonagall agreed. In fact, everyone seemed to hold Frank Longbottom personally responsible for Bagman's antics.

"You would let your Slytherins do anything, if you got something for it," said Hardisty.

"I've sometimes thought that myself," said Professor Viridian, looking exquisitely nasty. "Don't worry, Professor McGonagall, Bagman will be serving detentions a long time after that display."

"I don't believe you can give detentions for Quidditch fouls, Professor," Frank pointed out.

"Exactly what I was about to say," said Dumbledore. "I'm afraid we must countenance Mr. Bagman's oddities, Vindictus. Yet I seem to remember you were quite a ferocious player yourself, once."

Tullia Macnair, the Gryffindor keeper, had deflected another shot and Ayleward had taken the Quaffle for Slytherin. He flew up, as did Avery, made a move as if to pass to Avery, then dropped the Quaffle to Megan Diggory below, who put it through the hoop before anyone knew what was happening, executing a perfect Porskoff Ploy.

"310 points for Slytherin!" screamed the announcer and...

"OWWWW! My hair! Let go!"

Alison had lunged at Gilderoy and taken hold of his long locks.

"YOU'RE SCALPING ME!" He hit back at her, but she refused to let go.

"Penalty for..." the announcer began, but she didn't finish. With a sudden jerk, Alison fell backwards, the Golden Snitch in her hands. Gilderoy had his hands on his head, rearranging the hair in which the Snitch had been entangled.

* * * * * * * *

Monday morning, a large eagle owl swooped down to the Gryffindor table and dropped a large heart-shaped card, all sparkling green and silver. It read

To Gilderoy, from Slytherin,
You set our hearts a'quiverin.
And though you sit across the hall,
We know your thoughts are with us all.
You call yourself a Gryffindor,
It's plain though what you're playing for,
You've won our hearts with your brash play,
You've taken all our breaths away.
But will you play 'gainst Ravenclaw?
And from us all your love withdraw?
Our hearts would break should you give them
Your sweet'ning dose of brave mayhem.
So, play not against Hufflepuff,
Our love for you is quite enough.
Be satisfied, don't be a ninny.
You have your Puellas Slytherini.

Rumours that Ludo Bagman was the author were untrue. He only assisted with the scansion. Lockhart was unperturbed. Perhaps he took it seriously. On the other hand, he just might possibly have had a sense of humour.