Supernatural and the Philosopher's Stone

Quidditch

As we entered November, the weather turned very cold. The mountains around the school became icy gray and the lake like chilled steel. Every morning the ground was covered in frost. Hagrid could be seen from the upstairs windows defrosting broomsticks on the Quidditch field, bundled up in a long moleskin overcoat, rabbit fur gloves, and enormous beaverskin boots.

The Quidditch season had begun. On Saturday, Harry and I would be playing in our first match after weeks of training: Gryffindor versus Slytherin. If Gryffindor won, we would move up into second place in the House Championship.

Sam and Dean would be leaving just a day after the Quidditch match. Hardly anyone had seen us play because Wood had decided that we were their secret weapon. But the news that I was playing Beater and he Seekervhad leaked out somehow, and I didn't know which was worse--people telling us we'd be brilliant or people telling us they'd be running around underneath us holding a mattress.

It was really lucky that Harry and I had Hermione as a friend. We didn't know how we'd have gotten through all our homework without her, what  with all the last-minute Quidditch practice Wood was making us do. She lent us Quidditch Through the Ages, which turned out a very interesting read.

I learned that there were seven hundred ways of committing a Quidditch foul and that all of them had appeared during a World Cup match in 1473; that Seekers were usually the smallest and fastest players, and that most serious Quidditch accidents seemed to happen to them; that although people rarely died playing Quidditch, referees had been known to vanish and turn up months later in the Sahara Desert.

Hermione had become a bit more relaxed about breaking rules since Harry, Ron, Sam, Dean, and I had saved her from the mountain troll, and she was much nicer for it.

The day before our first Quidditch match we were out in the freezing courtyard during break, and she had conjured us a bright blue fire that could be carried around in a jam jar. We were standing with our backs to it, getting warm, when Snape crossed the yard. He was limping. We moved closer together to block the fire from view; we were sure it wouldn't be allowed. I was squished up between Sam and Dean. But something about our guilty faces caught Snape's eye. He limped over. He didn't see the fire, but he seemed to be looking for a reason to tell us off anyway.

"What's that you've got there, Potter?"

It was Quidditch Through the Ages. Harry showed him.

"Library books are not to be taken outside the school," Snape said. "Give it to me. Five points from Gryffindor."

"He's just made that rule up," Harry muttered angrily as Snape limped away. "Wonder what's wrong with his leg?"

"Dunno, but I hope it's really hurting him," Ron said bitterly.

"That isn't very nice to say Ron," I said.

The Gryffindor common room was very noisy that evening. Harry, Ron, Hermione, Sam, Dean, and I sat to next to a window. Hermione was checking our Charms home for us. She would never let us copy ("How will you learn?"), but by asking her to read it through, we got the answers right anyway. She was actually stunned at how well I did mine.

Harry suddenly got up and told us he was going to see if he could get the book back.

"Better you than me," we said in unison.

He left the Gryffindor Tower.

"You're better in Charms than I am, Sariah," Hermione said. "You aced it."

"Nah," I said. "You're better."

"So," Dean started.

I turned to look at him.