mavis weasley || harry potter [1]

ELEVEN || Gryffindor v. Hufflepuff

The next morning in Defense Against the Dark Arts, while coping down different ways of treating werewolf bites, Harry, Mavis, Ron, and Hermione were still discussing what they'd do with a Philosopher's Stone if they had one. It wasn't until Ron said he'd buy his own Quidditch team that Mavis remembered about Snape and the coming match.

As the match drew nearer, Mavis could tell Harry was becoming more and more nervous, whatever he told Ron and Hermione. The rest of the team wasn't too calm, either. The idea of overtaking Slytherin in the House Championship was wonderful, no one had done it for seven years, but would they be allowed to, with such a biased referee?

Mavis didn't know if she was imagining it or not, but she seemed to keep running into Snape wherever she went. At times, she even wondered if Snape was following her, trying to catch her on his own. Potion lessons were turning into sort of weekly torture, Snape was so horrible to Harry. Could Snape possibly know they'd found out about the Philosopher's Stone? Mavis didn't see how he could-- yet she sometimes had the horrible feeling that Snape could read minds.

Mavis knew, when they wished her and Harry good luck outside the locker rooms the next afternoon, that Ron and Hermione were wondering whether they'd ever see him alive again. This wasn't what you call comforting. Mavis hardly heard a word of Wood's pep talk as she pulled on her Quidditch robes, secretly, placed her wand in the waistband of her trousers, and picked up her Cleansweep Seven.

Ron and Hermione, meanwhile, had found a place in the stands next to Neville, who couldn't understand why they looked go grim and worried, or why they both had brought their wands to the match. Little did Harry know that Ron, Mavis, and Hermione had been secretly practicing the Leg-Locker Curse. They'd gotten the idea from Malfoy using it on Neville, and were ready to use it on Snape if he showed any sign of wanting to hurt Harry.

"Now, don't forget, it's Locomotor Mortis," Hermione muttered as Ron slipped his wand up his sleeve.

"I know," Ron snapped. "Don't nag."

Back in the locker room, Wood had taken Harry aside.

"Don't want to pressure you, Potter, but if we ever need an early capture of the Snitch it's now. Finish the game before Snape can favor Hufflepuff too much."

"The whole school's out there!" said Fred Weasley, peering out of the door with Mavis.

"Harry, Dumbledore's come to watch. Dumbledore is here!" cried Mavis.

Harry's heart did a somersault.

"Dumbledore?"  he said, dashing to the door to make sure. Mavis was right. There was no mistaking that silver beard.

Mavis could have laughed out loud with relief. Harry was safe. There was simply no way that Snape would dare to try to hurt him if Dumbledore was watching.

Perhaps that was why Snape was looking so angry as the teams marched onto the field, something that Ron noticed, too.

"I'd never seen Snape look so mean," he told Hermione. "Look-- they're off. Ouch!"

Someone had poked Ron in the back of the head. It was Malfoy.

"Oh, sorry, Weasley, didn't see you there."

Malfoy grinned broadly at Crabbe and Goyle.

"Wonder how long Potter's going to stay on the broom this time? Anyone want a bet? What about you, Weasley?

Ron didn't answer; Snape had just awarded Hufflepuff a penalty because George Weasley had hit a Bludger at him. Hermione, who had all her fingers crossed in her lap, was squinting fixedly at Harry, who was circling the game like a hawk, looking for the Snitch.