Snape Was the Referee

Harry's Quidditch training was incredibly rigorous. Whenever Aya tried to stroll past pretending it was a coincidence, intending to snatch Harry's broom and play with it, Wood would appear in time and block her with unbelievably agile moves.

Aya thought Wood was much more agile than Dumbledore. At least, the two of them had clashed six times, and she had only managed to steal the broom once.

The weather here had never been very good, and the rain had barely let up since school started. Aya didn't think she'd gone to the pitch on her own very often, but she still knew how awful their training conditions were. She only had to look at the Weasley Brothers, who were always worn out after practice and stole her spot closest to the fireplace.

No matter how powerful Aya was, she still had the body of an eleven-year-old little squirt. Whenever she lay down and refused to leave, the twins would pick her up, one by the head and one by the feet, and toss her onto the sofa.

Honestly, she wanted to experience that feeling of being flung through the air a few more times.

When she saw Harry return to the common room after another practice, Aya was reluctant to leave the warm glow of the fire, but also looking forward to being tossed.

"Bad news," Harry said, his face grim as he sat down beside Ron.

"Don't say anything yet, I need to think-" Ron was playing Wizard's Chess with Hermione. It was one of the few things he could beat her at, and he treasured every chance they had to play. But when he turned and saw Harry's expression, he added, "What's wrong? You look awful."

"Snape's going to referee our next match." Harry's voice was grave.

"Don't play," Hermione said at once.

"Say you're ill!" Ron suggested.

"Pretend you've broken your leg?" Hermione said.

"Actually break your leg!" Ron said.

"I don't think breaking a leg will work. You'll have to break your arms too," Aya said sincerely. "Wood will make you ride your broom with a broken leg."

"Good point!" Hermione and Ron agreed in unison.

"I can't do that." Harry closed his eyes briefly. "I'm Gryffindor's only Seeker. There's no substitute. If I quit, Gryffindor won't be able to play."

Just then, Neville stumbled in through the entrance to the common room, his legs stuck tightly together. Aya heard Hermione say it was the Leg-Locker Curse; Neville had come back hopping like a rabbit.

Everyone in the common room laughed at his sorry appearance. Hermione went over to lift the curse and brought him over to their little group, and Aya asked him curiously what had happened.

"Malfoy," Neville said, his voice trembling. "He was looking for someone to practise that curse on outside the library!"

"Go to Professor McGonagall, Neville. Report him!" Hermione said indignantly.

Aya, however, suddenly perked up. "Faction war! Faction war! I'm joining!" With that, she jumped up, scooped up Xiaohua, who had been lying beside her, and ran out. Within seconds, she had vanished without a trace.

"...What's a faction war?" Harry asked curiously. He thought it was another term from the Wizarding World.

"No idea. I don't understand it." Ron shook his head, then encouraged Neville. "You've got to stand up to him, Neville! He's always throwing his weight around, and now he's been caught red-handed. There's no need for us to give in to him!"

Aya hurried downstairs on her cat and found Malfoy and his two lackeys still outside the library.

"Aha!" Aya jumped out. "Accept Gryffindor's punishment, stupid Slytherin!"

Draco had been arrogantly casting spells at a few first-year Hufflepuffs. When Aya jumped out, it took him a couple of seconds to register what she had said.

"Huh?" His fair face was full of scorn. What happened last Christmas had been a mistake on his part. This time, he would take back everything that belonged to him!

"You think you can do that? Locomotor Mortis!" Draco cast the Leg-Locker Curse at Aya.

"Interesting. Are you declaring war already?" Aya repeated some of the trash talk she remembered players using. "That's it? Got anything more exciting?" She beckoned to Draco.

Draco took the bait easily, as evidenced by the steam rising from his head.

He began firing every spell he knew at Aya, but unfortunately for him, her dodging ability was maxed out. She avoided most of them and looked smugly at the red-hot Draco. "My turn!" She planted one hand on her hip and raised her wand high with the other. "Stupefy!"

A beam of red light struck Draco head-on. He had no time to dodge-mainly because the two tall lackeys on either side of him had completely blocked his escape. The spell hit him, and Crabbe and Goyle reacted a beat too slowly, watching helplessly as their boss slammed hard into the floor. That crisp sound was the mark of a good head, and he would probably have a sizable bump on the back of it too.

"Do I need to come after you two as well?" Aya said in an evil tone, her face expressionless. "You wouldn't want Mr. Malfoy to wake up and find out you didn't catch him, would you?"

Crabbe and Goyle exchanged a glance, then silently agreed to close their eyes and fall to the floor-peacefully.

Aya walked over to Draco and looked around for a long while, but saw no faction war rewards. Her gaze drifted to the pampered young master. "Xiaohua."

Xiaohua grew larger, grabbed one of the young master's trouser legs in her mouth, stood up, and shook him. More than thirty sweets fell out of his jacket and trouser pockets. Satisfied, Aya quickly scooped up the sweets and left the scene of the crime. She remembered that spells weren't allowed in the corridors, so she had to run faster!

By the time Aya returned to the Gryffindor Common Room, Hermione was leafing through an incredibly thick book and pointing out the information on Nicolas Flamel to the others.

"You found it?" Aya sat down beside them and tried to lean over the book for a look, only to recoil at the densely packed writing.

"Is your 'faction war' over?" Harry asked curiously.

"Of course!" Aya showed off her spoils. "Not bad at all. I thought Malfoy's sweets were delicious last time, and they still are this time!"

"...You stole his sweets?!" Ron stared at her. "Which of you is the Slytherin, anyway?!"

"They're spoils of war!" Aya glared at Ron, then turned to Hermione. "What about Nicolas Flamel?"

"Harry saw Nicolas Flamel's name on a Dumbledore card from a Chocolate Frog," Hermione summarised. "I remembered this book I'd read before, and it just so happens to talk about Nicolas Flamel!" She lowered her voice. Aya, meanwhile, saw that the Weasley Brothers had already claimed her prime spot by the fireplace. "He's the creator of the Philosopher's Stone!"

"I know. The Philosopher's Stone can get you more Galleons," Aya replied absently, wondering whether she should have Xiaohua grow bigger and drag away the twins who had taken her spot.

"Yes, it can turn metal into pure gold, but most importantly, it can make the Elixir of Life!" Hermione added excitedly. She was thrilled to be at Hogwarts at the same time as such a legendary treasure. "Nicolas Flamel and his wife are both over six hundred years old!"

"So what?" Forgive Aya, who was only a little over two years old in a certain sense. She had no idea how valuable immortality was.

"Anyone would want it!" Harry seemed to have found grounds for suspecting Snape. "Snape definitely does too. He's even a Potions Class professor!"

Aya made no comment. No matter how much they talked, the legendary treasure was hers anyway. She stood up and marched with Xiaohua toward the Weasley Brothers, who had taken her throne.

Professor McGonagall took points from Aya for attacking Draco.

Sure enough, she shouldn't have fought so openly when she wasn't sneaking around at night. Who would have thought Draco had grown a brain? Instead of going to Snape, he had gone to McGonagall. As the fairest professor in the school, Professor McGonagall had promptly summoned Aya and checked her wand with Prior Incantato, successfully revealing a Stupefy consistent with Draco's account.

Aya couldn't talk her way out of it.

Of course, she had no defence to offer either. McGonagall took twenty points from her.

As Aya stepped out of Professor McGonagall's office, she gave Draco a vicious glare—or so she thought. Then she went straight up to him and, with the enlarged Xiaohua looming over him, stole another thirty-odd sweets from Draco.

As a result, Aya hadn't gone far before Draco returned to Professor McGonagall's office and reported her.

She lost another ten points.

Losing thirty points in one day, Aya thought she could make it onto Gryffindor's leaderboard.

With Hermione nagging her, Aya saw the arrival of the match Snape was refereeing: Gryffindor against Hufflepuff.

Because the referee had a teeny-tiny problem with Gryffindor this time, Aya went to the changing room at the pitch with Hermione and Ron to cheer Harry on. Compared with Ron and Hermione's grave expressions, Harry found Aya's masklike expression, unchanged for months, more reassuring.

"It's settled, then. If Snape makes a move, so do we!" Hermione whispered to the other two as they left the changing room. " 'Locomotor Mortis.' Remember it, and don't say it wrong."

"I know," Ron replied impatiently. "Stop nagging. You've said it loads of times already."

"What about you, Aya?" Hermione turned to look at her, and Aya gave her an OK sign. "I really hope I can count on you," Hermione muttered.

Aya was dependable, of course, as demonstrated when Draco issued a challenge to a fight and Aya was the first to accept.

At first, Hermione blamed her a little for being impulsive, but Draco really did have a filthy mouth. If Aya's background hadn't been a mystery, she would have gotten an insult from Draco too. Aya thought Harry and the others were right: Draco no longer deserved a respectful form of address from her.

Hermione wasn't an impulsive person, though. Her attention was entirely absorbed by the tense match. She was afraid Snape would draw his wand where she couldn't see him and jinx Harry's broom like he had in the last match, so she kept her eyes fixed on the black figure—and spotted the Golden Snitch immediately as a result.

"Harry! Quick, Harry!" Hermione shrieked happily, excitedly shaking Parvati beside her. But behind her, Aya had plopped herself down on Draco's back, pinning him as he struggled; Ron was wrestling with Crabbe; and even Neville had risen up in defiance, raining punches and kicks on Goyle.

Up in the air, Snape had only just set his broom in motion when the Golden Snitch flew past his ear, and Harry charged straight toward him.

The gap between Aya's stamina and Draco's was the gap between a little wild child who ran all over the mountains and a pampered young master. So while she sat on Draco's back, she still had enough energy to rummage through his pockets. When she saw Harry dive toward Snape, she even remarked, "Your head of house is about to be murdered in public."

Those words gave the young master, who had been pinned so tightly he couldn't get up, a sudden burst of strength. He threw Aya to the ground and scrambled to his feet, only to see Harry holding the Golden Snitch high.

"Hey, you look a little dead," Aya said, poking Draco, the sweets she had just stolen from him in her hand. "Want me to lend you one?"

Draco had nothing to say.

When Aya and the others left their punching bags behind, Neville limped after them. He was a chubby boy, after all. Although he wasn't as strong as Goyle, his bulk wasn't for nothing, and in a straight-up fistfight, he still had a slight advantage.

"Back to the common room!" Ron said happily. "There'll definitely be a celebration tonight. Harry and the others still have to put their brooms away, so we need to get ready!"

"That was the shortest match in history!" Neville said excitedly, his nose a little bruised. "I'd barely taken a few punches, and I even kicked Goyle twice!"

"Me too!" Ron threw an arm excitedly around Neville's shoulders. He had a few scrapes on his face, but he had managed to give Crabbe a black eye.

"Oh, Malfoy looks much easier to deal with than those two," Aya said, just as animated. "If it were Xiaohua, she could sit on him and squash him to death!"

"As lovely as that picture you've painted is, you'd have to leave school if that happened." Ron clicked his tongue with a hint of regret.

"I think what you regret more is not having a reason to go after Snape." Hermione looked at him sidelong.

"Oh-now that you mention it!" Ron suddenly felt as though he had missed out on a fortune. "Harry won too quickly. If Snape had made a couple of laps around the pitch, I reckon I could've found an excuse to defend Harry."

By the time they returned to the castle, chatting and laughing, some enterprising older Gryffindors had already put up a banner for the celebration. It looked as though it had been used more than once before.

To celebrate Harry's rare, crushing victory, Aya contributed a roast turkey she had put in her backpack at Christmas. Mainly, after eating a few, she had found that the meat really wasn't as tasty as ordinary roast chicken, and she was getting tired of it. Hermione was very pleased and patted Aya on the shoulder, while Ron said Aya was more like a person now.

Aya refused to let Ron eat the roast turkey she had brought out.

The group waited a long time before Harry finally returned. The other players had long since arrived at the common room and joined the festivities. Fred and George had even made a trip to the kitchen before coming back, and they had still arrived earlier than Harry.

"Harry, why did you take so long to get back?" Hermione asked quickly once he finally arrived.

"We won! You won!" Ron patted Harry excitedly on the back. "We even gave Malfoy and his two friends a beating! It was brilliant!"

"Never mind that for now," Harry said breathlessly. "Let's find somewhere quiet. I have something to tell you..."

All right, then. As Ron looked on with an indescribable expression, Aya put the turkey back in her bag and followed them out of the common room.