Screct [ Darry ]

second Quidditch Match

Dumbledore had convinced Dorea not to go looking for the Mirror of Erised again. She started having nightmares. Over and over again she dreamed about her parents disappearing in a flash of green light, while a high voice cackled with laughter.

“You see, Dumbledore was right, that mirror could drive you mad,” said Ron, when Dorea told him about these dreams.

Hermione, who came back the day before term started, took a different view of things. She was torn between horror at the idea of Dorea being out of bed, roaming the school three nights in a row (“If Filch had caught you!”), and disappointment that she hadn’t at least found out who Nicolas Flamel was.

They had almost given up hope of ever finding Flamel in a library book, even though Dorea was still sure she’d read the name somewhere. Once term had started, they were back to skimming through books for ten minutes during their breaks. Dorea had even less time than the other two, because Quidditch practice had started again.

During one particularly wet and muddy practice session, Wood gave the team a bit of bad news. He’d just gotten very angry with the Weasleys, who kept dive-bombing each other and pretending to fall off their brooms.

“Will you stop messing around!” he yelled. “That’s exactly the sort of thing that’ll lose us the match! Snape’s refereeing this time, and he’ll be looking for any excuse to knock points off Gryffindor!”

George Weasley really did fall off his broom at these words.

“Snape’s refereeing?” he spluttered through a mouthful of mud. “When’s he ever refereed a Quidditch match? He’s not going to be fair if we might overtake Slytherin.”

The rest of the team landed next to George to complain, too.

“It’s not my fault,” said Wood. “We’ve just got to make sure we play a clean game, so Snape hasn’t got an excuse to pick on us.”

Which was all very well, thought Dorea, but she had another reason for not wanting Snape near her while she was playing Quidditch. . . .

The rest of the team hung back to talk to one another as usual at the end of practice, but Harry headed straight back to the Gryffindor common room, where she found Ron and Hermione playing chess. Chess was the only thing Hermione ever lost at, something Dorea and Ron thought was very good for her.

“Don’t talk to me for a moment,” said Ron when Dorea sat down next to
him, “I need to concen —” He caught sight of Dorea’s face. “What’s the
matter with you? You look terrible.”

Speaking quietly so that no one else would hear, Dorea told the other two
about Snape’s sudden, sinister desire to be a Quidditch referee.

“Don’t play,” said Hermione at once.

“Say you’re ill,” said Ron.

“Pretend to break your leg,” Hermione suggested.

“Really break your leg,” said Ron.

" I'm not going to break my leg for that dungeons vat. " Dorea took a deep breath " and There isn’t a reserve Seeker. If I back out, Gryffindor can’t play at all.” she added.

At that moment Neville toppled into the common room. How he had
managed to climb through the portrait hole was anyone’s guess, because his
legs had been stuck together with what they recognized at once as the Leg- Locker Curse. He must have had to bunny hop all the way up to Gryffindor Tower.

Hermione performed the countercurse. Neville’s legs sprang apart and he got to his feet, trembling.

“What happened?” Hermione asked him, leading him over to sit with Dorea and Ron.