The New Trio and the Philosopher's Stone

Chapter 11: Quidditch

Notes: Aaaaaawlrighty then! As promised, Chapter 11 on this fine day (Australia, so it's the 21st for me now), and I'm looking forward to hearing your opinions of this chapter, as well as any suggestions you have for further chapters. If I can fit said suggestions in, and they fit with my idea of the fic, I'll add them in.Enjoy!

The next day, the headline of the Daily Prophet screamed: PETER PETTIGREW CAUGHT AT LAST!

Harry and Draco decided not to read it, since they both had similar disparaging opinions of the rag, and they both knew what had happened anyway. They found it both concerning and amusing that Ron complained for weeks on end about Scabbers missing, but found they couldn't bring themselves to reveal the truth about the rat. It was just another thing that made Harry, Draco, and later Neville and Hermione to feel like they were being separated from their friend.

As time went on, the whispers about, and sad but curious looks toward, Harry slowed down and stopped, and Harry found himself able to breathe again in the old castle he considered a second home.

*

The weather suddenly turned icy once they'd entered November. The mountains surrounding Hogwarts became dirty grey, and the lake looked like chilled steel. Every morning, without fail, the grounds were covered in frost, and Hagrid could be seen from the upstairs windows, defrosting broomsticks on the Quidditch pitch, bundled up in a long moleskin overcoat, rabbit-fur gloves, and enormous beaverskin boots.

The Quidditch season had begun. On Saturday, the first match, Gryffindor versus Slytherin, would be played. If Gryffindor won, they would move up to second place in the House Championship. Harry had seen Gryffindor's team captain, Oliver Wood, training his team to the absolute limit; they would come back wet and muddy, and the only one who had a smile on their face was Wood, and his was one of fanaticism.

Hermione had truly become one of their little group now, and she was a bit more relaxed about breaking rules (although that was mostly Fred and George's doing; she'd accidentally mentioned a prank she'd done on her parents, and they couldn't wait to try it out on the whole school, so they'd taken her under their wing). The day before the first Quidditch match, the four of them were out in one of the courtyards during lunch break, and Hermione had conjured them up a bright blue fire which could be carried around in a jam jar. They were standing with their backs to it, getting warm, when Snape crossed the courtyard, limping. Draco noticed the unusual movement immediately, and ran over, shouting, "Uncle-Professor!"

Snape looked up from the ground he was scowling at, and his face broke out into a somewhat reluctant smile. "Draco, you know it's best not to call me that outside my rooms."

Draco skidded to a stop, nodding, and asked timidly, "Wh-what happened?"

Snape pinched his nose. "I was... bitten during a rather idiotic plan I had."

This caused the other three to come closer, eager for a story. When Snape raised his head again, he groaned when he saw the keen looks on all four of their faces. "Not here. If you absolutely must know, which I am quite sure you do not, you may come to my rooms tonight at eight, no earlier."

Draco took a chance and lauched himself at his godfather, hugging him quickly, then backing off before he'de even realised that he'd been hugged. Snape mock growled, and reached down to tousle Draco's perfectly maintained hair. A shocked yelp came from Draco, and Neville, Hermione, and Harry started giggling. Hermione had never seen Draco's hair look anything but well-kept, but the boys got to see it very messy every morning, as Draco had a tendency to toss and turn as he slept. Harry preferred Draco's hair messy, but maybe that was because his own hair couldn't even be tamed by Sleekeazy's.