SILENT MIND - YEAR 1

7. The Quidditch

Today was the first Quidditch game between Gryffindor and Slytherin teams.

To be honest, I've never been interested in sports, much to Charlie's disappointment. He could spend hours by watching various games on TV. I used to sit on a couch with him, pretending to watch, but most of times I read a book, while commentator's voice served as a neutral background.

The Quidditch, however, was something new. I was dying to see it. The game itself promised to be another test for my nerves – Gryffindor was playing against Slytherin team. I already had decided to hang around with Gryffindor fans, so my 'popularity' among my own housemates most likely was going to be crashed down in pieces and dust.

In the morning, at breakfast, I noticed how nervous Harry looked. I quickly finished my toast and coffee (enormous thanks to Weasley twins who sneak into the kitchen occasionally and, during one of their tours, convinced elves to add coffee especially for me when I complained once about lack of caffeine). Harry really looked like he could use a bit more friendly support.

I was about to stood up, when Snape appeared in hall. He walked between the long tables and paused at Harry, said something and then went on toward High Table to join the rest of staff. I noticed that he was limping, seriously.

I paused a bit and watched Snape until he sat down at staff table, picked up the fork and started to eat. He did not looked around so I could watch him without being caught. He seemed a bit paler than usual as if he lacked a good sleep, barely visible crease appeared in his forehead as he moved his leg into more comfortable position. Snape obviously was in pain, but how did he managed to hurt himself like this – and why did he never went to hospital wing which any other person would have done in similar situation? The only answer was – whatever happened, Snape did not wanted anyone to know about it.

My thoughts returned to Harry as I spotted the Slytherin team coming for breakfast, already dressed up in their forms. Not really wanting to stay at my own house table longer than necessary, I stood up and casually walked over to Gryffindor table.

"Hey, Harry," I settled down next to Ron. "Ready for the big game?"

"Guess so," Harry gave me a strained smile.

"Hey, don't you worry," I reached past Ron and patted on Harry's shoulder. "I'm sure you're gonna wipe the ground with them," I nodded toward Slytherin team players who were glaring at us.

"They won't be happy if you will stand with us," Hermione shook her head.

"Tell me about it. Just look at them," I grinned. "If looks could kill, I surely would be dead a thousand times over by now. Speaking of that, did you got what I asked?"

"Yes, there it is," Hermione pulled folded scarf in Gryffindor colours from under her robes and handed to me. "Are you sure you want to put this on?"

"Oh, I love to irritate Slytherins. In fact, why not start right away?"

To empathize my words, I stood up, turned towards Slytherin table and did quite a show of putting the scarf around my neck, causing a wave of angry hissing and impolite gestures in my direction, while some other students from the rest of three houses, mostly Gryffindors, congratulated my actions with wolf-whistles and upraised thumbs.

I slightly bowed, grinning wickedly, then sat back down. A quick sideways glance to High Table confirmed that Snape was too engrossed in conversation with Quirrell. "By the way, any ideas what's wrong with Snape?"

"What's wrong? Better ask, what is right about him," Ron snorted.

"I'm serious, Ron. He's limping."

"Whatever it is, I hope it hurts," Ron murmured, hopefully out of Hermione's hearing range.