At that moment, on the Quidditch pitch, Harry's Flying Broomstick convulsed and twisted wildly, gradually carrying Harry beyond the bounds of the field.
"I really don't know what Harry's trying to do." Hagrid muttered from the stands, peering carefully through his binoculars. "If I didn't know him so well, I'd think he couldn't control his broom... but that can't be..."
Hagrid did not understand the severity of the situation. He merely thought Harry was using some special tactic.
But suddenly, everyone in the stands turned to look at Harry. His Nimbus 2000 had begun rolling and flipping nonstop, leaving him barely able to hang on without falling.
Then the Nimbus 2000 twisted madly again, flinging Harry off. In that perilous moment, Harry caught hold of the broom handle with only one hand, dangling precariously in midair.
"Did something go wrong with his broom when Flint rammed him earlier?" Seamus whispered in the stands.
"Impossible," Hagrid said, his voice trembling slightly. "Nothing but powerful Dark Arts can interfere with a Flying Broomstick. A child couldn't possibly cast that kind of magic on a Nimbus 2000."
Hagrid's words seemed to steer Hermione's thoughts in the right direction. She snatched Hagrid's binoculars. Instead of looking up at Harry, she anxiously scanned the crowd.
"What are you doing?" Ron said, pale as death. Harry's current situation had nearly destroyed Gryffindor's chances of winning.
"I knew it," Hermione said breathlessly. "It's Professor Snape! Look!"
Ron grabbed the binoculars. Professor Snape stood in the middle of the stands opposite them, his eyes fixed on Harry as his lips moved soundlessly.
"He's up to something! He's chanting a curse at the Flying Broomstick," Hermione told Ron and Irina.
Ron hopped anxiously on the spot. "Then what do we do?"
"Leave it to me!"
As Hermione spoke, she