Harry Potter and the Sticking Broom

Chapter 5: The Answer Will Be in the Library

The young Gryffindors who sat down to dinner that evening all had their own theory on the Sticking Broom. Dennis Creevey was the most confused. "How could anyone even get up to reach the flag pole?" he wondered. "We're not allowed to fly that close to the castle roof - unless we're having a lesson with Madam Hooch."

"You could use that trap door at the top of the belfry," Ginny mumbled, her mouth full of pork pie.

Hermione bristled when she heard this remark. "The belfry is out of bounds," she warned. She was trying to do a bit of extra Potions reading while she ate, but the Great Hall was proving far too noisy. "When have you been up there?" she asked.

"Oh, I haven't been there. It's just something I heard about," Ginny hurriedly explained. When Hermione resumed her reading, Ginny whispered to Ron. "Actually, Fred took me up to the belfry after school last week. You should see all the bats! Fred says the house-elves have to go up there every week to clean the bat poo off the bell."

"Why would you want to go up there?" Ron asked, worried that his little sister was becoming far too rebellious of late.

"Fred's giving me the Hidden Hogwarts tour before he leaves. Doesn't want all his old haunts to lie abandoned next year," said Ginny.

"Wish he'd show me," Ron muttered in disappointment.

Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan were having an animated discussion, sitting on the other side of the Gryffindor table. "It can't be a maneuver," Seamus insisted, "or Kennilworthy Whisp would have included it in his book." The boys were thumbing through a dog-eared copy of Quidditch Through The Ages that sat on the table between them.

"Well, maybe he left this one out. Or maybe someone's invented the Sticking Broom since that book came into print," said Dean. "Anyway, if it's not a set play, what do you think it is?"

"Well, it could be a player's nickname," Seamus said doubtfully.

"Nickname?" Dean disagreed. "Teachers don't have nicknames. Or at least, not nicknames that you call them to their faces."

"What do you think, Hermione?" Ron asked as he hacked into the crust of his beef Wellington.

"I think I'd like to finish this chapter in peace," Hermione brusquely replied. She was reading a slim library book by Professor Perseus Evans, bearing a Restricted Section stamp, which was entitled How to Annoy People With Potions. Some past Hogwarts student had defaced the book by writing "Snape's Biography" across the cover in red ink. She read for a few more minutes and then, sighing, she closed the book. Ron still appeared to be waiting for her answer.

"Well, if you really want to know," Hermione began, "I think it's just a stupid Slytherin joke which we should all simply ignore."

Her opinion was vindicated at that very moment, because Harry Potter walked into the Great Hall to a chorus of Slytherin snickers. Self consciously, Harry sat next to Hermione. "Looks like I'm the center of attention," he said grimly.

"Make's a nice change, doesn't it?" Ron said, grinning broadly. "All right, man of the moment, do you know anything about Sticking Brooms?"

"No," Harry shook his head and his black hair flopped over his eyes. "But the whole thing has Slytherin stamped all over it. I mean, a green and silver flag? What else could it be?" Harry ladled Irish stew onto his plate and began to eat, without much appetite.

"You look worried though," Ron eventually said, his smile disappearing. "You don't think there's more to this rubbish than Quidditch?"

"I don't think so. I mean, I hope not," said Harry uncertainly.

Hermione put down her knife and fork and spoke decisively. "If this Sticking Broom has anything to do with Quidditch or the teachers' team, the answer will be in the library."

"The library?" asked Ron with a smirk. "I wouldn't have thought to look there. Guess what Harry, Hermione thinks the library is the place to look."

Hermione hit him across the knuckles with her dessertspoon and continued. "The school keeps records of every Quidditch match that has ever been played at Hogwarts. Team photos, descriptions of the games, everything. Most of the record books for the last seventy odd years are lying on the table next to the window in the library."

"What are they doing there?" asked Harry, intrigued.

"I'm not sure," Hermione answered, her eyes narrowing as Ron raised his eyebrows in mock surprise. "But Katie Bell and Madam Hooch have been poring over those books each afternoon for the last week. The point is, most of the teachers, or the ones who went to Hogwarts anyway, will be mentioned in the school's records. That is, if they ever played Quidditch for the school."

"So we could check the match reports for any weird maneuvers," said Ron excitedly.

"And the team photos for any funny nicknames," said Harry with a smile.

The trio visited the library immediately after dinner, or as immediately as was possible given Ron's insistence that he should have a third helping of pudding. Harry even forgot his loss of appetite long enough to consume a strawberry and cream tart - his favourite dessert. In the library, Hermione merely showed the boys where an imposing pile of books, each bearing the Hogwarts crest and a date, lay on the long table closest to the window. She then placed her school satchel on a chair and disappeared behind the iron gates of the Restricted Section, to find some of the ancient source documents referred to in Professor Evans' book.

Harry picked up a book from the top of the pile and flicked through it for a while. "Where do we start?" he asked hopelessly.

"Well, the oldest books look like they're on top, so maybe we need to look for the oldest teachers first," Ron suggested, thumbing through another dusty volume.

"But there's every single year here. And we don't even know which teachers are going to be on the team, let alone when they all went to school," complained Harry.

Hermione returned with an armful of dusty scrolls and two or three vellum bound manuscripts. One of the manuscripts had an illumination on the cover of a witch in a wimple, who moaned softly and clutched her stomach. Placing the crumbling parchments carefully down, and apologising to the wimpled witch for putting the book on the table a little too hard, Hermione reached into her satchel and pulled out her personal copy of Hogwarts, a History. "You need to check Appendix XXIV, " she informed them matter-of-factly. "It's a list of the names of all past prefects."

"Have you penciled your name in down the bottom yet?" Ron asked cheekily.

Ignoring this, Hermione continued, "And Appendix XLIX lists all students who received academic prizes in their N.E.W.T.s year. I don't think there's a teacher here who wouldn't be on one list or the other, unless they didn't go to Hogwarts at all."

"So, how far back do you think we need to go?" Harry asked as he read the lists over Hermione's shoulder.

Hermione's index finger stabbed confidently at the page, "Minerva McGonagall. Head Girl, fifty five years ago."

Before too long, the boys had mastered Hermione's research technique and were discovering all sorts of amusing details about their teachers' school days. Minerva McGonagall, at the age of seventeen, wore her dark hair with a severe central parting and two long plaits that reached to her waist. She had exactly the same wire-rimmed spectacles then as now. She had been a Chaser for Gryffindor house and was notorious for her diversionary tactics, which usually caused any opponent silly enough to pursue her to fly headlong into the spectators' stands.

The boys also found out about several teachers with unenviable Quidditch credentials. Among them, Professor Filius Flitwicks' nickname had been "Maximus." He was Ravenclaw's Seeker for four years, but the match reports indicated that he never ever caught the Snitch.

The history of Professor Sprout proved more elusive. None of the friends knew her first name. "Do you think she's told Neville what it is?" Ron wondered.

"Well, if she has he's probably forgotten," Harry replied.

Unfortunately, many, many Sprouts had passed through Hogwarts' halls. "Worse than the Weasleys!" grumbled Harry. Most of the Sprouts had distinguished themselves in some way, either as prefects or academically, and the boys didn't know whether they should be looking up Primrose Sprout, Marigold Sprout, Daisy Sprout, Ivy Sprout, Daffodil Sprout or Buttercup Sprout. They thought it safe to rule out the only male Sprout on the list, whose name was Herb.

"This family has a really unhealthy obsession with gardening," Ron observed.

Most of the Sprout sisters (or cousins, they couldn't be sure) had played Quidditch, all for Hufflepuff. Unusually for girls, many of them were Beaters. Team photos also were of no use, as the Sprout girls all had the same pudgy, merry faces and short, rotund physiques. Some of them had nicknames. "Compost" was the silliest. However, after nearly an hour Harry and Ron had found out all they could about the wide, wonderful world of Sprouts, but were no closer to finding the Sticking Broom.

"Let's move on to the next one. Do you want to do Trelawney next, or Sinistra?" Ron asked.

"I don't think Professor Sinistra went to school in Britain. Neither did Professor Vector," Hermione volunteered, proving that perhaps she was not as immersed in her studies as she appeared to be.

"And if Professor Trelawney ever played Quidditch, I'll eat her crystal ball," said Harry.

Harry was right. Sybill Trelawney had been a prefect fifty years ago. She had not received a single academic award, even for Divination. Her name did not appear in Hogwarts' Quidditch records.

"We can safely rule out Professor Binns as unfit to play," Ron stated. "I mean, he's dead isn't he? Which I think only leaves Madam Hooch."

"She went to a Ministry-run comprehensive school in Essex," Hermione interrupted.

"How do you know that?" Ron wanted to know.

"She was telling Katie Bell all about it last week," Hermione replied. "And haven't you forgotten Professor Snape?"

"Snape!" Ron sputtered. "You don't seriously think a skinny, anemic creep like Snape ever played sport, do you?"

"Sirius and Professor Lupin never mentioned it," Harry concurred. But then, he thought, there was a lot that Sirius and Lupin had never told him about their school years, and about Harry's parents in particular. "But at least we already know which year to check," Harry said as he lifted up the volume which held the Quidditch reports for James Potter's final year at Hogwarts.

Turning the pages, Harry soon found a picture of the all-conquering Gryffindor Quidditch team. His father stood in the centre, a tall, thin, confident-looking teenager with glasses and a mop of unruly black hair, holding the Quidditch Cup with pride. On his right stood a handsome, laughing youth with long dark curly hair who could only be Sirius Black. This was confirmed by the caption, which referred to "Sirius "Padfoot" Black, Keeper." A nervous looking, plump boy fidgeted on the other side of James Potter, identified as Peter Pettigrew, Beater. Harry couldn't recognise the rest of the team and supposed with sadness that Professor Lupin's illness would have prevented him from playing Quidditch.

The Slytherin team glowered broodily from the next page, having just been defeated in the final game. They all made a very rude gesture to Harry and Ron. Ron was right. None of the Slytherins was Snape.

"Anyway," said Ron, "He's not really the type to have a nickname, is he? Well, not one his friends would use. Severus? Perhaps they called him Severe Ars-"

"Ah, Miss Granger." A cold, sneering voice came from somebody standing behind Ron's back, causing the boy to stop mid-sentence.

"Professor Snape?" said Hermione with surprise.

"You have made no progress on your essay, I see," the Potions Master disdainfully observed.

"Well actually, Professor," said Hermione defensively, "I've done quite a lot of reading. Look, I've taken notes on these books." Hermione showed her teacher a thick wad of closely written, meticulously cross-referenced parchments.

Professor Snape took them from her and held them as though they were decomposing Boomslang skin, or some other malodorous thing. He looked down his long, hooked nose at the pages. "Miss Granger, your admirers in the staff room were foolish enough to believe that you were capable of this task. I see now how misguided they were."

Hermione looked mortified. "I don't understand, sir," she said in a small voice.

"You clearly lack the maturity to see what is essential. As a consequence, you will only shame the name of Hogwarts. The judges will see you for what you are, Miss Granger - a stupid, arrogant girl with her pointless pages of notes, without a single original idea or perceptive insight. Only a child would fail to notice that nothing useful has been written on this topic since 1436."

Professor Snape dropped Hermione's notes on the table, causing some to flutter to the floor, and picked up the book How to Annoy People with Potions. His dark eyes flickered with fury as he noticed the red graffiti on the cover. Snape glared at Harry and Ron, trying to decide whether he could attribute any blame for the book's defacement to them. "And both of you," Severus Snape snarled, his voice dripping venom, "should not be here. A library is a place for scholarship, not for indulging in your pathetic sporting obsessions."

Snape drew his wand and lifted the volumes of Quidditch records from the table. About a hundred heavy books spun in the air like a howling, violent whirlpool. Harry sat without flinching and stared at Professor Snape, determined to show no fear. However, Ron put his arms over his head for protection and swore as the flying books dived around him, causing Snape to bare his crooked, dirty teeth in an exultant smile.

On the librarian's desk, Bunty the library-elf danced about in a rage, shaking her tiny fist at the Potions Master. Madam Pince looked up from her work and tut-tutted loudly. "Libris Exodus, Decorus," she said, and the Quidditch books flew to the shelves and repositioned themselves in a neat, chronologically ordered row.

"Yes, thank you, Madam Pince," Professor Snape drawled with insincerity. "Exactly what I intended to do." He then fixed a look of loathing on the three young Gryffindors. "Now, as none of you seem to have any idea how to make use of this library's resources, you will return to Gryffindor tower at once," Snape commanded.

Severus Snape swept out of the library while Harry, Ron and Hermione packed up their things.

"He's completely lost it this time," Harry observed.

"No," said Hermione with a sniffle. "He's probably right. I need to try harder." She did not touch the scrolls and manuscripts on the table.

"Probably right?" Ron exploded. "Since when has he ever been right about anything?" He looked at Hermione imploringly. "Hermione, why don't you just tell them all what they can do with their bloody Potions essay? Forget Snape! You don't want to listen to that ---" For the second time in the space of ten minutes, Ron used a word that his mother would never condone. Hermione was so dismayed by Snape's appraisal of her work that she offered Ron no reproof, as the three friends hurried from the library.