Sally-Anne found herself once again caught by a horde of the girls who lived at the Cloister, demanding a story of her first year. Everyone had heard about Halloween now, so it was time to move on. So as the girls gathered around the fire pit that her father had set up on this warm summer's evening, with their sticks spearing marshmallows, Sally-Anne chose a new story.
"You all have heard the tale of Halloween, of the a boy who had not yet learnt the lesson of not using unkind words, of a sensitive girl genius who heard his unkind words, and of course the reluctant hero who risks his life to be justly rewarded. On this night, however, it is time to tell a different tale, a tale of a Seeker playing his first game, of a evil professor whose aims were not yet know, and of a once rescued girl whose fire burned for the Seeker.
"Our tale begins in the North, at the storied Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry on a late November day. There was a bit of a chill in the air, making house scarfs not just for decoration and team support, but actually needed. There was nary a student who did not head down to the pitch for the game that was to open the Quidditch season. Well, perhaps there were a few, from the house of the ravens, but even they admitted to curiousness, and found it hard not to spend at least a few hours watching the Game of Wizards.
"One might suspect that it was the presence of the returning champions, of the House of Slytherin, the snakes whose slaughter of their opponents the previous year had been epic and unprecedented. And true, some were there to see the return to the pitch of a complete returning championship team, but most of those were snakes themselves.
"So, that left the Lions of Gryffindor to provide the hook that brought the whole school to the pitch. Perhaps it was the Keeper and Captain, Oliver Wood, a fourth year wall, who was rarely breached. Perhaps it was the trio of chasers, Spinnet, Bell, and Johnson, visions of loveliness, and Queens of the Qualffle. Perhaps it was the Weasley Twins, who beat as if they were one, until the opponents were left bruised and battered.
"It certainly was the mystery that as the Gryffindor Seeker. It is often said that if there is a secret at Hogwarts, everyone knows, but this time, the mystery held. Oh there were theories, the most creditable was that Bell was moving to the post, but their hadn't been any other second year or older reported heading to the pitch, and surely the Lions wouldn't be putting a first year in as Starting Seeker. After all, Quidditch is a nasty game, whose players quite often woke up in the Hospital Wing after a game, unknowing how they had left.
"It was not until Lee Jordon, himself a small source of the attraction of the game announced the teams that it was revealed. Wood, Bell, Spinnet, Johnson, Weasley, Weasley ... and ... Potter.
"From the porch of the Gryffindor lockers, a small first year with messy black hair emerged, his scarlet robes seeming to be slightly too large. His green eyes flashed behind his black rimmed glasses as he took his position opposite the big burley Slytherin Seeker whose last loss of the snitch had been against the great Charlie Weasley, who turned down a chance to play for England.
"The Gryffindor Seeker was Harry Potter, known to many as the Boy-Who-Lived. Tales of his first flying lesson and the catch of the Remember-all quickly spread throughout the stands, before Madam Hooch even lifted the Quaffle from the case. He was the boy on whom the team's hopes depended on. He was the boy on which the game lived.
"Up into the air when the Quaffle, and into the grasp of the Gryffindor chasers the ball went. Bell, Johnson, Spinnet ... Spinnet, Bell, Johnson, the Quaffle shot between them, nary a Snake clad hand reaching the most ancient of the game's balls.
"The bulgers plunged through the players, struck strongly by the Weasley twins, as they took control of the pair. Slytherin, after Slytherin were forced to evade the iron balls, least they be knocked from astride the broom stick steeds. Frustration turned to anger, anger turned to cheating, cheating turned to penalty.
"Above them all, the Seekers sought out the snitch, catching and losing sight of the golden ball. It was a game of precision, a game of might, a game of wonder, to all those that watched.
"Suddenly though, something was wrong. The brand new professional grade broom, a Nimbus 2000, the lone one in the school, was bucking. It seemed to be trying to throw Potter off. He held on tightly, but eventually Potter was thrown off, only managing to keep from plummeting to his death by his hand still grasping his broom, as he hung from the bucking broom.
"To most this was unprecedented, unexplainable. A broom like the Nimbus, throwing anyone off? It couldn't be, yet with a single hand Potter hung from his Nimbus 2000. With great effort, his other hand caught hold of his broom, but still he dangled.
"In the stands though, constantly scanning the game so she could understand the game that her Harry played was the girl genius, Hermione, her body wrapped in warmth, her eyes covered by a pair of homemade omniculars. She was the one who spotted the professor in the stands, muttering, his eyes locked on the broom. She knew what that meant. She knew what she had to do. Harry was her friend, and she had had a precious few of them.
"Down to the front rail she ran, across the stands, and up the stairs she ran, her wand drawn. She heard the crowd cry out with fear, and she took a fearful glance at the game. Harry was hanging now from a single hand.
"Up her glance went, to spot the robes of the Professors hanging down below the seats. Time was of the essence, and she didn't think she could make it to the Professor's box in time. Her wand shot out from her sleeves, into her hand, and incantation left her lips.
"Some witches have certain affinities for spells, affinities that occasionally emotionally fuel a spell to greater effect. It might have been that. It is more likely that it was the occupant of her womb that fueled the fire.
"And it was a fire. A great jet of flame flew up from Professor Snape's robes. It nearly topped the tip of his hooked nose. The potions professor's robes quickly caught, and it spread, charms designed to prevent fire might as well be missing. The Divination Professor had the misfortune to have turned, just the wrong direction, and her whisky flashed into flame.
"A conjured localized downpour from the Headmaster quickly dowsed the flames, but not before the black robes of the Potions Maters, and the silver sleeve of the seer were singed and destroyed. It was enough, though.
"Up in the sky, Potter was astride his Nimbus again. And now he dove, his hand reaching out. Faster and faster he went, skimming the ground, and then he tumbled, and the snitch was gone.
"Up in the stands, it was said that Potter looked a bit sick, as he stood back up on the pitch. And the coughed, his hands going to cover his mouth. The next thing anyone saw was his hand raising from his mouth, snitch in hand. He'd swallowed it.