HP and the Parseltongue Chronicles - Chapter - 21

The Quidditch stands were packed with students and teachers, their cheers echoing across the stadium as the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff teams took their positions on the field. Banners waved wildly in the wind, with Gryffindor’s roaring lion shining brightly in the afternoon sun. Harry adjusted his grip on his Thunderclap Arrow, feeling the familiar rush of excitement and nerves.

Madam Hooch stood at the center of the pitch, whistle at the ready. “Captains, shake hands,” she called out.

Oliver Wood strode confidently toward Hufflepuff’s captain, Cedric Diggory. The two shook hands firmly, both determined but sporting respectful smiles. "Good luck, Diggory," Wood said.

"Likewise, Wood," Cedric replied, his tone friendly yet competitive.

Madam Hooch raised her whistle. “Mount your brooms... and—” The shrill sound of the whistle cut through the air, and with a rush of wind, the players kicked off the ground, soaring high into the sky.

"AND THEY'RE OFF!" Lee Jordan’s voice boomed through the enchanted speakers. "Gryffindor in possession, Alicia Spinnet with the Quaffle—she dodges one Hufflepuff Chaser—oh, a brilliant pass to Angelina Johnson!"

The crowd roared as Angelina sped toward the goalposts, weaving expertly through Hufflepuff’s defense. Harry, hovering high above the action, scanned the pitch for the glint of gold that would signal the Snitch’s presence.

Then, without warning, a loud CRACK split through the air. A Bludger shot past Harry’s ear with terrifying speed, narrowly missing his head.

"What the—?" Harry muttered, jerking his broom sharply to the left.

George Weasley, one of Gryffindor’s Beaters, zoomed up beside him, his face grim. "Harry, that Bludger’s acting weird! It's ignoring everyone else and going straight for you!"

"Stay alert, Potter!" Fred yelled from below, smacking the other Bludger toward a Hufflepuff Chaser.

Harry’s heart pounded in his chest as the rogue Bludger swerved through the air, aiming directly at him again. He dove, narrowly avoiding it by inches. The crowd gasped as the Bludger shot past, tearing through the air like a missile.

"That Bludger’s gone berserk!" Lee Jordan exclaimed. "Someone call a timeout!"

"NO TIMEOUTS IN QUIDDITCH!" Madam Hooch bellowed, her eyes narrowing as she tracked the rogue ball.

Harry gritted his teeth and gripped his broom tighter. "Alright, you want me? Let's see how fast you can keep up," he muttered, leaning forward and shooting toward the opposite side of the field. The Bludger followed relentlessly.

Below, Neville and Hermione watched with wide eyes. “This isn’t normal,” Hermione said, clutching her Gryffindor scarf. “Someone must have tampered with it!”

"Tampered or not, Harry's handling it," Neville muttered nervously.

Meanwhile, Angelina managed to score a goal, bringing Gryffindor into the lead. The Gryffindor stands erupted in cheers, but Harry was too busy dodging the relentless pursuit of the rogue Bludger to celebrate.

Up in the air, Fred caught up to him. “Harry, let me try to take it out!” He swung his bat fiercely, sending the Bludger spiraling off course—but it quickly regained its target and hurtled toward Harry once more.

"Great," Harry muttered. "I’ll just have to lose it."

He executed a series of sharp turns and dives, pushing his broom to its limits. The Bludger was fast, but Harry was faster. He swerved through the goalposts, narrowly avoiding a Hufflepuff Keeper, and spiraled down in a dizzying corkscrew motion. The crowd gasped, watching Harry weave through the players with breathtaking skill.

"Potter’s pulling some insane maneuvers!" Lee Jordan shouted. "If he catches the Snitch while dealing with that thing, he’ll go down in Hogwarts history!"

High above the pitch, Cedric Diggory looked over in concern but remained focused. He was searching for the Snitch as well, hoping to capitalize on the distraction caused by the rogue Bludger.

Then, in a stroke of luck, Harry spotted a flicker of gold near the Hufflepuff goalposts. The Snitch hovered lazily, unaware of the chaos. Without hesitation, Harry flattened himself against his broom and shot toward it at full speed.

“THERE IT IS!” Lee Jordan bellowed. “THE SNITCH!”

The Bludger followed, gaining on Harry with frightening speed. He stretched out his hand, his fingers inches from the Snitch, but the Bludger was almost upon him.

“Come on, come on,” Harry muttered through gritted teeth, reaching with everything he had.

Just as the Bludger came dangerously close, Harry seized the Snitch in a triumphant grip. The stadium exploded in cheers as the whistle blew, signaling Gryffindor’s victory. The Bludger, its job seemingly incomplete, smashed violently into the goalpost before finally going still.

Fred and George rushed to Harry, grinning. "That was brilliant, Harry!" Fred shouted.

"Mad!" George added. "But brilliant!"

Harry grinned breathlessly, holding up the struggling Snitch. "Took a bit of work, but we got there!"

Wood landed beside him, his face a mixture of elation and concern. "Are you alright, mate? That Bludger nearly took your head off!"

Harry nodded. “I’m fine... but we need to figure out what happened with that Bludger. That wasn’t normal.”

Madam Hooch inspected the rogue ball, her expression dark. "I'll be looking into this, Potter," she said sternly. "This could have been very dangerous."

Professor McGonagall marched onto the field, her lips pursed in worry. "Potter, in my office after you’re done celebrating. We need to discuss this... anomaly."

Hermione and Neville rushed to Harry’s side as he walked off the pitch, his heart still pounding. "You were amazing, Harry!" Hermione said.

Neville nodded. “Yeah, but what do you think caused the Bludger to go after you?”

Harry frowned. "I don't know, but I have a feeling this isn’t over."

As Gryffindor celebrated their victory, Harry couldn't shake the uneasy feeling in his gut. Something—or someone—wanted him out of the game, and he needed to find out who before it was too late.

Later that evening, Harry found himself seated in Professor McGonagall’s office, the stern witch watching him closely over her square spectacles. The walls were lined with books, and the fireplace crackled softly in the background, but the atmosphere was anything but cozy.

Professor McGonagall tapped her fingers against her desk. “Mr. Potter, I must ask—do you suspect anyone of tampering with that Bludger?”

Harry shook his head firmly. “No, Professor. I mean, it was Hufflepuff we were playing against, and they're known for fair play. I don’t think anyone on their team would have done something like that.”

McGonagall pursed her lips, clearly not satisfied with the answer. “I see. While I trust your judgment, Mr. Potter, I cannot ignore the fact that this incident was highly unusual. The Bludger was not behaving under normal enchantments, and if someone intended to harm you, we must find out who.”

Harry nodded but remained silent. He couldn't exactly tell her about his suspicions without any real evidence. He wasn't eager to point fingers without proof. After a long pause, McGonagall sighed.

“I’ll be keeping an eye on future matches,” she said. “In the meantime, Mr. Potter, I strongly advise you to be cautious. If you notice anything unusual, you are to report it immediately. Understood?”

“Yes, Professor,” Harry replied, standing up and making his way out of the office, his mind still racing.

Back in the Stars Clubroom, the mood was far more relaxed than it had been in McGonagall’s office. Harry, Hermione, and Neville sat at their usual spots, while Fred and George lounged against the wall, discussing theories. The Slytherin members of the club—Daphne Greengrass, Blaise Zabini, and Theodore Nott—stood near the fireplace, looking uncharacteristically serious.

“So,” Fred started, tossing a Quaffle into the air absentmindedly. “Any ideas on who tried to take your head off, Harry?”

“Could have been a rogue charm,” George suggested, frowning. “But that was too... persistent. Whoever did it wanted you out of the game. Badly.”

Harry ran a hand through his hair. “I told McGonagall I didn’t suspect anyone, but honestly, I have no clue. It’s not like I have a shortage of enemies.”

Daphne crossed her arms, her expression cool and calculating. “Before you ask,” she said, “Slytherin had nothing to do with it.”

Blaise nodded in agreement. “If we wanted to beat you, we wouldn’t resort to cheap tricks. We’d do it fair and square.”

Theodore smirked. “Well, mostly fair.”

Harry gave them a grateful nod. “I believe you. And I don’t think it was Hufflepuff either.”

Neville, who had been quiet so far, spoke up. “But who else could have done it? Could someone outside of Hogwarts have tampered with the Bludger?”

Hermione sighed. “It’s possible, but unlikely. Quidditch equipment is heavily enchanted and inspected before matches. If someone managed to slip a tampered Bludger in, they must have had inside access.”

George raised an eyebrow. “Inside access… like someone on the staff?”

There was a pause, and Hermione quickly shook her head. “We shouldn’t jump to conclusions. It could be something else entirely.”

Daphne’s eyes narrowed. “It’s not hard to guess who might hold a grudge against you, Potter. But if it was anyone from our house, we’d know.”

Harry appreciated their honesty, though it didn’t ease his worries. He leaned back in his chair, staring at the enchanted ceiling of the clubroom, where miniature Quidditch players zoomed around like tiny fireflies.

“We’ll just have to be more careful from now on,” Harry finally said. “I don’t want to let this distract us from the club or our work.”

Fred and George exchanged a glance. “Speaking of work,” Fred said, pulling out a rolled-up parchment, “we’ve got new orders for broomsticks piling up. Remus said the last batch sold out almost immediately.”

George added, “And the furniture business is still booming, but we might need to start looking for alternative materials since Godric’s Vault is running low on salvageable stuff.”

Hermione nodded, clearly eager to move on from the Quidditch incident. “Good idea. We should also focus on expanding The Stars Chronicles. Our latest edition had record sales, and if we keep up the momentum, we’ll have even more influence.”

As the conversation shifted, Harry couldn't help but feel a lingering sense of unease. Whoever had tampered with the Bludger wasn’t done yet. And whether it was someone inside Hogwarts or an outside force, he knew he had to stay vigilant.

But for now, at least, he had his friends and the club to focus on. That was enough to keep him grounded—at least until the next match.

The Gryffindor vs. Slytherin Quidditch match had been the talk of the school for weeks. After the incident with the rogue Bludger in their last game, tensions were running high. The Gryffindor team was prepared to play their best, but one unexpected announcement had thrown a wrench into their plans—Professor Snape had appointed himself as the match referee.

"Great," George muttered as they walked toward the changing rooms. "Snape refereeing a Gryffindor match? We might as well hand Slytherin the Cup right now."

Fred rolled his eyes. "He’ll probably give us penalties for breathing too loud."

Harry, already dressed in his Quidditch robes, forced a smile. "We’ll just have to play smart. If we can catch the Snitch early, Snape won’t have a chance to sabotage the game."

Oliver Wood, the Gryffindor captain, clapped Harry on the shoulder. "That’s the plan, Harry. You get that Snitch fast, and we’ll hold off the Slytherins as best we can."

Hermione and Neville had come down to the pitch to show their support, standing among the Gryffindor crowd. Hermione leaned in toward Neville, whispering, "We have to stay alert. If Snape pulls anything too unfair, we’ll let Professor McGonagall know."

Neville nodded nervously. "Yeah… but I don’t think McGonagall will intervene unless Snape does something really outrageous."

When the teams finally lined up on the pitch, the tension was palpable. Snape stood in the center, his dark robes billowing in the wind, a sneer firmly fixed on his face as he surveyed the Gryffindor team with clear disdain.

"Let’s have a clean game," Snape drawled, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Gryffindor, do try not to break the rules."

The whistle blew, and the game began with a roar from the crowd. Harry shot into the air, scanning the field for the Snitch while trying to ignore the oppressive presence of Snape below.

It didn’t take long for Snape’s bias to make itself known.

"Penalty to Slytherin!" Snape bellowed almost immediately after George bumped lightly into a Slytherin Chaser.

"What?!" George shouted, hovering in mid-air with disbelief. "That was barely a nudge!"

Snape simply smirked. "Illegal contact. Slytherin takes the shot."

"Keep playing!" Wood shouted as the Slytherins took advantage of the free shot and scored. The Gryffindor players exchanged frustrated looks but pressed on.

Within the next ten minutes, Snape had awarded three more penalties against Gryffindor for increasingly ridiculous reasons.

"Excessive speed?" Fred repeated incredulously after Snape penalized Angelina Johnson for outpacing a Slytherin Chaser. "What, are we supposed to take a leisurely stroll?"

"Keep your head in the game, Harry!" Wood barked. "We can't let him get to us!"

Harry grit his teeth and zoomed around the pitch, scanning for the Snitch with a growing sense of urgency. He needed to end this before Snape could hand Slytherin the victory on a silver platter.

Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw it—glinting gold near the Slytherin goalposts. Without hesitation, Harry flattened himself against his broom and shot forward like a streak of lightning.

"Potter, watch yourself!" Snape barked from below, but Harry didn’t care. He pushed his broom harder, weaving through the opposing Chasers as they tried to block him. Malfoy, spotting the Snitch as well, chased after him, but Harry was too fast.

The crowd gasped as Harry stretched out his hand and—yes! His fingers closed around the tiny golden ball just as Malfoy lunged for it and missed spectacularly, nearly tumbling off his broom.

"Potter has the Snitch!" Lee Jordan’s voice boomed through the stadium. "Gryffindor wins!"

The Gryffindor stands erupted in cheers as Harry raised the Snitch triumphantly. Fred and George swooped down, whooping with excitement, while the Slytherins scowled in frustration.

Snape, clearly furious, blew his whistle sharply. "The match is over," he said curtly, his lips thin with displeasure. "Get off the pitch."

Harry landed, grinning despite Snape's sour expression. "Good game, Malfoy," he said as he passed him.

Malfoy glared. "Enjoy it while you can, Potter."

As the Gryffindor team made their way back to the changing rooms, Hermione and Neville ran up to meet them.

"You did it, Harry!" Hermione beamed. "Snape couldn’t stop you!"

Harry laughed, wiping sweat from his forehead. "Yeah, but I don’t think he’s going to forget this anytime soon."

Neville patted Harry on the back. "I was sure he was going to award Slytherin another penalty just for catching the Snitch too fast."

Wood groaned. "Let's just hope he doesn’t referee any more of our matches."


After the Gryffindor Quidditch team's well-deserved victory, Harry had barely settled into the common room to celebrate when Norky, his ever-diligent house-elf, appeared with an urgent pop.

“Master Harry,” Norky whispered, tugging at Harry’s sleeve discreetly. “Norky needs to show you something. In your base. It’s... important.”

Harry, sensing the seriousness in Norky’s voice, nodded. “Alright, lead the way. Let’s be quick.”

He glanced at Neville and Hermione, who noticed the exchange. “I’ll be back in a bit,” he said, slipping away as the room buzzed with chatter about the match.

As they made their way through the castle, the halls were unusually quiet, save for the distant echoes of students still talking about Snape's blatant favoritism during the game. Norky led him up to the seventh floor, stopping in front of the hidden entrance to his personal base.

Once inside, Harry froze.

In the center of the room, tied securely to a chair, was a trembling house-elf. The elf’s hands were wrapped in bandages, and a cloth was stuffed into its mouth to muffle any sound. It was wearing an old, tattered pillowcase with the Malfoy family crest barely visible on the fabric.

Harry’s gaze shifted to Norky, who stood beside the captive, looking immensely pleased with himself. He was wearing his finest tuxedo and hat, his eyes gleaming with triumph.

“Surprise, Master Harry!” Norky announced proudly. “Norky caught this sneaky little elf tried to attack master Harry !”