Harry Potter and the Portkey of Time

CHAPTER 8

Harry sat in the common room, nervously tapping his fingers on his legs. His Quidditch robes lay on his lap, and he looked down at them, excitement filling his mind. But what if something went wrong? He thought, what if all of a sudden he couldn't play anymore, or he fell off his broom, or he didn't catch the snitch? Nerves coursed through his body. He was sure everything would be ok, but there was this inkling in the back of his mind telling him something was going to go wrong.

"Ready Potter? We are all going down to the Gryffindor changing rooms to prepare for the game," came Oliver Wood's voice.

"Uh yeah, be there in a sec." He stood up and shook his hands as if he was shaking away the nerves as well. With newly found confidence, he grabbed his robes and ran down to the changing rooms.

Harry exited through the portrait hole and smacked right into someone. His robes dropped to the floor and he reached down to pick them up, but the person had already grabbed them and was handing them to him. Harry looked up to see Ron and Hermione standing in front of him. He resisted a smile, seeing the two together, without him.

"Harry, hurry up!" Ron exclaimed, pushing the robes into his hands. "The team's waiting for you!" Harry nodded his head and went to go to the changing rooms before remembering something important. He abruptly turned around and stared at Ron and Hermione, making them feel uncomfortable.

"Hey, guys?" He asked, "could you look out for anything suspicious while I'm playing? I don't know why but I have this strange feeling and it won't go away." A puzzled expression formed on Hermione's face but nonetheless, she nodded.

"Sure Harry," Ron stated and then continued by saying, "now get down to the change rooms, you're gonna be late!"

Once Harry had finished getting changed, Wood gave them his normal pep talk. By the time he was finished, Harry was even more nervous than he was in the Common Room. The feeling that something bad was about to happen just wouldn't go away. Pushing it to the back of his mind, he and the rest of the team ran out onto the pitch on Madam Hooch's whistle.

Harry soared into the air, the cheers of Gryffindor sounding all around him. The moment he was back in the sky and on his trusty broom, his nerves dissipated. It felt as though he was coming home after a long day at the Auror's office, something he hadn't felt for over 6 months. Harry had been in this timeline for 6 months, the thought made him shudder. Although he was still surrounded by his friends, it would never be the same. Zoning back into the game, he heard the commentator, Lee Jordan, announce that Gryffindor had just scored another goal. Looking around for a flash of golden light, Harry saw Fred - or was it, George? - hit a bludger towards the Slytherin captain Marcus Flint, who dodged it. Harry's eyes racked the whole pitch searching for that little flash of light he was so used to. Blocking out the Gryffindors' cheers and the Slytherins' boos, Harry caught the eye of the Slytherin seeker. Pretending to see the snitch, Harry pulled off a flawless Wronski Feint which worked in getting the Slytherin seeker to follow him. He pulled up just before hitting the ground, skimming it slightly with his toes when he actually saw the snitch. It was glittering right by the Slytherin goals, taunting him. Quickly glancing back, Harry saw that the Slytherin seeker had fallen off his broom and was now sitting on the ground in a daze. Seizing the opportunity, Harry zoomed after the snitch, quickly gaining speed. The Nimbus two-thousand wasn't as fast as the Firebolt but it was one amazing broom. The snitch dived and so did Harry. He rounded corners, slowly gaining on it until the broom jerked and Harry was almost flung off. It was no longer in his control. The broom was rocking side to side as if it was trying to knock Harry off. He knew instantly that this was the work of dark magic. Someone was cursing his broom.

He tried to throw a glance at Ron or Hermione, praying they would get the message to do something, but he was slowly losing grip. The broom was rising higher and Harry was slipping faster. At this rate, if he fell there was no chance he would survive.

Up in the stands, Hermione, Ron and Neville were freaking out as they watched Harry flirt with death. He was hanging onto his broom by his hands and looked like he was struggling to hold on. Hermione immediately looked around, searching for an explanation for Harry's broom's weird behaviour. Her eyes stopped, resting on Snape's face, who was watching Harry intensely, and from what she could see, muttering to himself. Hermione stood up, and against Ron's protests turned and began to march straight towards Snape's seat. Going underneath the stands, Hermione rushed by the Ravenclaw and Slytherin houses before finally coming across her destination. Glancing at Harry quickly to make sure he was still on his broom, which he was, she pulled out her wand and pointed it at Snape's cloak, muttering a few well-chosen words, a small blue fire caught alight. Satisfied that Snape and all the other teachers were now distracted she rushed back to Ron.

Harry was now safely back on his broom, thanks to Hermione's quick thinking, but he had lost sight of the snitch. Slytherin's seeker was now back on his broom, albeit still looking a little dazed, so Harry had to find the snitch and fast. His eyes rapidly crossed every inch of the pitch, not leaving a single spot left out until he saw it. A glimpse of gold light reflected straight into his eyes. Not worrying about the other seeker, Harry gave in to his instincts and tracked the snitch down like an animal hunting prey. Within 15 seconds, it was safely in his hand and Gryffindor had won the game.

~✦~

The common room was filled with cheers and happiness, everyone celebrated the newly recruited seeker, The Boy Who Lived. Harry was exhilarated. It felt great to win his first match all over again. But something was still eating away at him in the back of his mind. Someone had done something to his broom, and he had this feeling they had done it the first time around as well.

Hermione pulled Harry and Ron into the corner of the room, away from prying eyes and ears. Once they were safely situated away from everyone, Hermione started talking.

"Harry... I think Snape tried to curse your broom."

At these words, Harry remembered why almost dying had felt so familiar during the game. It wasn't Snape. It was Quirrell who had cursed his broom.

"No... it wasn't," Harry spoke slowly, looking as if he was piecing everything together in his mind. "It was Quirrell, not Snape."

"Quirrell?" asked Ron bewildered, "not a chance in hell, have you seen him?" He started laughing quietly to himself. "Harry, mate, I think winning has made your head funny."

"No it hasn't," Harry snapped. "I know for certain it was Quirrell. You don't have to believe me yet, but when I have the right evidence I'm going straight to Dumbledore. I just need to remember what he is looking for..." Harry mumbled the last sentence to himself. Ron still looked amused.

"Let's just enjoy the celebrations." He said, suppressing a giggle.