The Bravest Snake

CHAPTER 6

Today, like usual, Harry had woken up before everyone else. He silently made his way out of the Gryffindor Common Room, not wanting to disturb anyone's sleep. It was dawn, so he decided to take a short walk within the castle. He had almost memorized the way to the Slytherin dorms.

Near the Transfiguration classroom, Harry saw a brown tabby cat with markings around its eyes. It wasn't Mrs. Norris, it actually didn't feel like a cat at all. Something felt... off about it.

Right before his eyes, the cat changed into Professor McGonagall. Harry noticed the markings on the cat's eyes looked like her glasses. ''Hello, Mr. Potter,'' she said nonchalantly.

''How did you do that?'' Harry asked, barely being able to suppress the surprise and excitement in his voice. He'd never heard of people turning into animals. It sounded incredible, and a very useful skill to have.

''I am an Animagus, a witch able to turn into an animal at will. Your father, James Potter, was also one. It is a very difficult task, the process can take years.''

Harry's curiosity was dialed up to one hundred when he heard his father had been one. ''How can you become an Animagus?''

Professor McGonagall stared at him for a long moment. ''I should have known you would ask me that. You really are James' son. I'll make sure to give you a few books I have next time you have Transfiguration, and Hagrid probably has your mother's journals. They might be of some use to you.'' She turned and walked away, but not without a smile on her face.

Later, when it was seven o clock, Harry went down to breakfast and quickly sat at the Gryffindor Table, where Draco, Hermione, and Ron hadn't gotten over what had happened last night. ''Didn't you see what it was standing on?'' Hermione asked exasperatedly.

The boys shook their heads. ''Everyone was looking at those three heads! Three! Heads!'' Ron nearly shouted.

''I mean on the floor! It was standing on a trapdoor. Someone put that Cerberus there to guard something.''

Harry's hand immediately went to the article crumpled up in his pocket, about the robbery of vault seven hundred thirteen in Gringotts. Could it be in the trapdoor? Harry resolved to tell Draco about it later. Hermione and Ron were all well and good, but Harry didn't really trust them as much as he trusted Draco.

Owls flooded into the Great Hall, a daily occurrence at this point. Draco retrieved something from a school owl, and Harry realized with a twinge of jealousy that it was from Draco's mother. Harry wished he had someone to write letters to, but he was sure his unkind relatives, Vernon, Petunia, and Dudley Dursley, would like a letter from him. Draco had no idea how lucky he was.

Everyone's attention was caught at once by six large screech owls carrying a long, thin package. Out of all the people in the Great Hall, Harry was the most surprised when the owls dropped it in front of him. He opened the letter taped on the package first, which said :

DON'T OPEN THE PACKAGE AT THE TABLE. It contains your new Nimbus Two Thousand, but I don't want everyone seeing it or they'll all want one. Meet me tonight on the Quidditch Field at seven for your first training session. - Marcus Flint, Slytherin Quidditch Captain

Draco peered over his shoulder and his eyes grew wide. ''Nimbus Two - '' Before he could finish his sentence, Harry dragged him out of the Great Hall. Just as they were about to go down to the Slytherin Common Room to unwrap it, they were stopped by Pansy and her sidekicks. 

Harry just rolled his eyes and walked right past them, which seemed to anger Pansy more. She tossed her short black hair and threatened him, but he saw right through her. Pansy had set them up with the duel, hoping that Harry had been caught by the teachers and been expelled. Her plan didn't work, and now she was angry. How is someone like that in Slytherin? Harry thought. She was quite easy to figure out, Draco was the one who wanted the adventure.

He and Draco dashed to Harry's dormitory. Once they were settled on his bed, Harry carefully unwrapped the broomstick. It was sleek and shiny, with a mahogany handle, a long tail of straight twigs, and Nimbus Two Thousand written in gold on the top. It was the nicest thing Harry had ever owned, and it was the most exciting thing he had ever seen. 

Harry couldn't concentrate on the lessons that day, his mind wandering to his new broomstick safely stowed in his trunk, and his eyes wandering out the window to the Quidditch Pitch. He shoveled down his dinner without even noticing what he was eating, and walked as fast as he could to the Quidditch Pitch.

Hundreds of seats were raised in stands encircling the whole field. At either end were three golden poles with hoops on the end that were fifty feet high. Maybe it was the crisp evening air, or the way the grass crunched beneath his feet, but Harry couldn't wait for Marcus Flint. He mounted his broomstick and kicked off, enjoying the feeling of the broomstick reacting to his lightest touch. It was like riding a well - oiled race car.

''Hey Potter, come down!'' shouted Marcus Flint, who had arrived. He carried a large wooden crate under his arm. Harry smoothly landed next to him. ''I see what all the fuss is about. You really are a natural! I'm just going to teach you the rules this evening, then you'll be joining team practices three times a week.''

Marcus opened the crate, inside were four different balls. ''There are seven players on each side, three of them are Chasers. I'm one of them. They throw this ball, the Quaffle, and try to get it through these hoops. Ten points every time the Quaffle goes though a hoop.'' The Quaffle in question was a bright red ball about the size of a soccer ball.

''One player is a Keeper, who guards the hoops and stops the other team from scoring. Miles Bletcheley is our Keeper. And Beaters hit Bludgers away.'' Marcus pointed to two smaller black balls strapped inside the crate. ''They rocket around, trying to unseat players. We have two Beaters to take care of them.''

''Ok...'' said Harry, his mind working hard to process everything. ''I think I got it. So what's that ball?'' He pointed to a small, golden, walnut sized ball with a pair of fluttering wings still inside the crate.

''That is where you come in, Harry. This ball is called the Snitch, and it's the Seeker's job to catch it, which is no easy task. It's tiny and hard to spot, and you must catch it before the other team's Seeker does. When you catch it you earn one hundred and fifty points, and the match ends.''

So Harry was the Seeker, a position that could determine if his team won or lost. That was a lot of responsibility, but it also seemed kind of fun? It was certainly fun when Marcus threw ordinary golf balls as hard as he could every which way for practice, and Harry didn't miss a single one. It felt easy with his advanced broom, but he could also feel his father's Chaser blood in him. Quidditch ran in his family.

As Harry trekked up to the castle, he decided he liked Marcus. He was straight to the point, and seemed dead set on winning the Quidditch Cup this year. And the more Harry learned about Quidditch, the more he also wanted to win.