Quidditch Match

"What does Merlin's magic have to do with you, Mr. Order? Now tell me about Quirrell."

Snape pressed down on Breeze's shoulder, watching him coldly as he waited for an answer.

"I saw you too that day, Head of House. On Halloween."

At the mention of Halloween, Snape remembered how Breeze had been living in the Owlery, making him and several other professors search high and low for him. The other professors had even used the incident to lecture Snape.

Before Snape could get any angrier, Breeze said, "I was coming down from the Owlery that day. I'd meant to go to the third floor and return Professor Quirrell's notes to him, but when I passed the fourth floor, I saw him sneaking toward the Forbidden Corridor. After you arrived, he quickly hid in a corner. You went inside,"

"He came out of the corner not long afterward and didn't go near the Forbidden Corridor again. But I heard him say something about his master and the Sorcerer's Stone, so naturally I wondered whether there was something related to the Sorcerer's Stone in the Forbidden Corridor."

Like the Trapdoor beneath the Three-headed Dog—that was what Breeze had seen just now. Of course, he couldn't bring that up at the moment, not while Snape had him in his grip.

"Master..." Snape's face paled, but he quickly concealed it.

"Hmph. I'll explain things to Dumbledore. As for your unauthorized entry into the Forbidden Corridor..."

Breeze's brow twitched. He didn't want to lose points, especially not at the hands of his own Head of House.

"You'll come to my office and deal with the slugs properly. Quidditch Matches bring the little trolls not only reckless fun, but colds as well. I need plenty of slugs for Potions, and you know that."

Breeze's face fell.

"Yes, I understand."

"Hmph. Come with me to the Pitch now. And don't come near here again. Forget what you heard, and don't cause trouble!"

"Remember, you're not a foolish lion, Order."

"Of course. I'm a little snake who knows how to keep his head down."

Breeze played along with Snape's words. He didn't want to keep provoking him. Snape's thoughts had probably already turned to Quirrell, and what happened next was their own business. Breeze only needed to keep quiet for a while.

Unfortunately, that would eat into the time he spent in the Forbidden Section each day.

"Then hand over your wand first. Don't leave my sight today."

Escorted by Snape to the Quidditch Pitch, Breeze found a seat where Snape could see him but far enough away to keep his distance. Snape had sat right in front of Quirrell as soon as they arrived. Breeze had no idea how Snape tolerated the smell of garlic... Perhaps some of the Potions he brewed smelled even worse.

"Oh!" someone cried. The Slytherin and Gryffindor players were officially entering the field. Thanks to Snape's batlike stride, Breeze hadn't wasted a second.

"Why didn't I think to bring a book with me to explore the fourth floor? What a mistake. I won't take anything for granted again. Life always has surprises in store."

Breeze pressed his lips together and watched the silver-green and red-and-gold sides face off. Madam Hooch blew her whistle and tossed the Quaffle into the air. The match began.

Up in the stands, a Gryffindor commentator launched straight into the play-by-play, introducing the players on the field—especially those who'd made their team in their first year. But he was a Gryffindor, so he had nothing nice to say about the Slytherins. For instance, he claimed Malfoy's shiny platinum-blond hair was obviously meant to blind the Gryffindor team...

Malfoy and Harry were both Seekers. It was a disaster waiting to happen: the two were already colliding fiercely, even though the Golden Snitch hadn't appeared yet.

The match would only end when someone caught the Golden Snitch, earning their team 150 points.

Hermione darted around on her Broomstick, seizing opportunities to steal the Quaffle. The Beaters from both teams kept batting away the Bludgers as they careened across the field, protecting their teammates and sending the Bludgers toward the opposing side.

"Oh! The Weasley Twins hit the other team's Beater with a Bludger... Brilliant! That was Gryffindor's Granger—she scored!"

"Hmph!" The Slytherins couldn't stand losing. They exchanged glances and broke into identical, sinister smiles.

The rest of the match became much more entertaining. At least Breeze wasn't bored anymore.

"That's a foul! Those Slytherins are such—"

Slytherin's captain, Marcus Flint, who was playing Beater at the moment, nearly knocked Harry off his Broomstick.

"Lee Jordan!" Professor McGonagall cut off Jordan's furious tirade. She was angry too, but she couldn't lose her temper now. The match wasn't over yet.

"Oh, all right. They should blow the whistle, but Quidditch has over seven hundred ways to commit a foul!"

"Oh, look!"

The Golden Snitch had appeared!

The moment it showed up, Malfoy shot after it on his Broomstick. Harry pursued him just as fiercely.

The Beaters on both teams immediately stepped up their attacks, sending Bludgers hurtling toward the two of them.

Harry dodged a Bludger as it spun past his head, then his Broomstick began shaking violently. He had to stop and steady it.

Harry bounced around on his Broomstick, the palms of his hands already rubbed raw and red.

"Oh!" the young witches and wizards in the stands cried out as they watched Harry nearly fall from the sky.

Harry clung to the broom handle with both hands and gripped it tightly between his knees. Terror gripped him as he nearly fell from a height of hundreds of feet.

While Harry was in danger in the air, Malfoy was already chasing the Golden Snitch. But just as he was about to catch it, the Snitch vanished and reappeared on the other side of the Pitch.

"Oh, damn it!" Malfoy swore, then immediately turned and flew after the Golden Snitch.

The Nimbus 2000 shouldn't have gone out of control like that.

Breeze frowned and immediately looked around. Someone might be behind this.

Snape?

Breeze couldn't believe it. Had Snape really become so brazen that he would use a spell against Harry Potter in front of everyone, just to stop him from winning?

Over the past few months, everyone had realized that Snape was targeting Harry Potter.

"This is so cool... Hm?"

Before Breeze could finish speaking, he saw Ron Weasley notice Snape's movements too. Ron was running toward Snape. Breeze didn't want to miss a second, and watched closely to see what might happen next.

"No, it wasn't Snape." Just as Breeze settled in to watch the show, he noticed Quirrell behind Snape, muttering something and keeping his eyes fixed on Harry.

"Are both of them trying to kill Potter?"

Just then, Ron shoved Snape hard from behind, interrupting his spell. Before Snape could react, Ron staggered off to the side.

"It was Quirrell casting the spell."

After Snape was interrupted, Harry's Broomstick went even more out of control. Harry couldn't hold on any longer and fell, while his broom shot uncontrollably toward the stands.

"Ah!"

Breeze heard someone scream beside him and felt a chill run down his spine. The broom was coming straight for him, and Snape had taken his wand!

Damn it!

Breeze summoned all his magic and cast a wandless spell with all his might. "Impedimenta!"

A transparent barrier sprang up in front of Breeze. The broom slammed into it, and Breeze could feel the barrier holding it back—but it wouldn't last long. He had to get out of the way.

Just then, he felt a contract in his soul tremble.

It was the weak contract Quirrell had placed on him.

Contracts went both ways: if one side offered help, the other had to offer the same in return. The more help they exchanged, the stronger the contract's hold became.

Breeze had left it alone for now to avoid tipping Quirrell off, but Quirrell couldn't wait any longer. Perhaps it was because Breeze had used Snape to return the notes.

Breeze had underestimated how ruthless Quirrell was. Quirrell was a complete lunatic—he was trying to kill him over a notebook.

Fine, then. What if he turned the contract around?

"Ah!" Breeze gritted his teeth. The broom broke through the barrier and slammed hard into his waist. Breeze was nearly in tears from the pain. He'd hurt his waist in Flying Class last time too. He felt like he and Broomsticks were natural enemies. He didn't even need to look to know this time was worse than before. He couldn't even stand up.

But he'd gotten what he wanted. Seeing that Breeze was still alive, Quirrell suddenly felt a dull pain in his head and immediately fled the Pitch.

"Blood! Somebody, help!"

As chaos erupted in the stands, McGonagall—who had just caught Harry with a Levitation Charm—went pale. She hastily set Harry down on the grass and hurried over. Several young witches and wizards who were friends with Breeze gathered around him.

Harry, left on the grass, coughed up a Golden Snitch, looking disgusted. He'd accidentally swallowed it in midair.

"Move aside!" McGonagall pushed through the crowd. The Quidditch players gathered around too. Snape limped over, a flicker of guilt crossing his face. He also scanned the crowd, searching for someone.

Several professors hurried over. Sprout shouted, "Make room! Don't crowd around him!"

"Oh!" McGonagall pulled back Breeze's robe and jolted at the blood streaming from his waist. She picked up the fallen Broomstick beside him.

"Professor Snape, I hope you find out who did this!" McGonagall said grimly. Then she looked toward the Quidditch players approaching them.

"Wood, get Order to the Hospital Wing on a broom, quickly."

At her command, Wood hurriedly picked Breeze up, mounted his Broomstick, and flew toward Hogwarts Castle. It was the first time he'd flown inside the castle.

Breeze was in too much pain to speak. He could only grit his teeth and keep from crying out. He'd remember this grudge. Even if Quirrell turned out to be the Dark Lord reborn, it wouldn't save him!

With Breeze taken to the Hospital Wing, the Quidditch Match ended in a bizarre fashion. Gryffindor won, thanks to Harry Potter swallowing the Golden Snitch in midair. It was sure to become a much-publicized story in the history books.

Even the professional teams would probably be stunned for a few seconds when they heard about it.

Slytherin was in a foul mood, especially Malfoy. He'd had his first chance to catch the Golden Snitch, but Harry's out-of-control Broomstick had distracted him.

No one would say anything to his face. After all, he was a Malfoy. But behind his back, it was another matter. At the very least, no one knew if he'd get to play next time.

Meanwhile, Hermione had barely gotten off the field before rushing to the Hospital Wing without changing. But she was told that Breeze needed to rest. If Breeze hadn't cast the Impediment Jinx without a wand, he might have been snapped in half on the spot. The Broomstick had gone badly out of control—there were even traces of Dark Magic!