I Don't Want to be a Hero - Ch. 20

The Trouble With Quidditch - Saturday, 19 October 1991

The Headmaster said nothing about a tryout on Saturday so consequently practically everyone knew about it. Oliver Wood, the captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team had arranged a practice game with the main team, their seconds, and Harry Potter. The stands were full of students who were curious about seeing the Boy-Who-Lived flying, and the teachers stand was filled with all the teachers.

Professor Snape normally would not deign to come out for a practice game, or tryouts, but he felt he needed to be nearby in case Harry showed any trouble. He mentally chastised himself for getting into a disagreement regarding the tryout with the Headmaster in front of Harry. Despite subsequent caution from the Potions Master to the boy about the dangers of Quidditch for a wizard not yet entirely in control of his powers Harry had been determined to tryout for the team.

Harry had been appropriately outfitted in an extra uniform meant for a second year. Percy Weasley, the Gryffindor prefect, had sized the uniform to better fit Harry. Even so the other players all seemed to tower over him.

"Awfully small isn't he?" commented Pomona Sprout to Filius Flitwick.

"Stature means nothing in the grand scheme of things, Pomona," said the Charms professor without condemnation. "Harry's magic, though..."

"Mr. Potter is the child of a powerful wizard and witch, Filius, and Madame Hooch has mentioned that he flew in class like a natural," Minerva smiled proudly. "I think he'll prove to be exceptional."

Snape snorted. Minerva glanced at him. "Worried about Slytherin's chances for the House Cup, Severus?" she teased.

"It amazes me that everyone has such high expectations for the brat, yet he has shown a consistent mediocrity in all his classes," sneered the stubborn looking dark clothed wizard.

Filius chuckled, "He's a first year, Severus! All first years are mediocre in the control of their magic."

"Precisely," said Severus. "Mr. Potter's control, despite a natural talent for flying, is questionable. Should he get in trouble that high above the ground do none of you think he will have the skill in the control of his magic to lessen, or avoid injury?" No one replied, and his lip sneered into a satisfied smug smirk. "As I thought."

With a critical eye Professor Snape watched as Oliver Wood directed Harry to the secondary Gryffindor team, spoke to him about something the professor could not hear, and then patted him on the back. Harry trotted over with a school broom to his team. His grin beamed for all to see and appeared more prominent than the reflection off his glasses.

A very cool wind twisted around the stands and the Potions Master pulled his cloak tighter. He glanced up at the sky to see clouds moving in. He shivered feeling a premonition of something not being right. He looked for Harry and watched as he flew a spiral route with his team up high into the sky.

“He is so small,” Snape muttered to himself worriedly.

Rolanda Hooch flew between the two assembled teams. Her voice, enhanced by the Sonorous spell shouted out, “This is a practice game! Points will be calculated but they will not count towards the House cup. Therefore, feel free to cheer on whomever you wish!” Madame Hooch was greeted by applause and cheers. “This game will have a 500 points limit. Let’s begin!” More applause and excited cheers followed the Snitch as it was thrown into the air, and Madame Hooch blew her whistle to begin the game.

Professor Snape cringed. Madame Hooch might call the boy a natural at flying but what he saw was a child on a broom that was tackling the air with the reckless abandon one might employ running down a street without caring that traffic is speeding past. It made him ill and more alert for trouble.

And, trouble was nearby. As Harry spied the tiny snitch he dove after it. His broom was suddenly and viciously yanked as if by a giant hand in the sky. Up in the air Harry did not cry out but he grabbed onto the broom with both arms and legs. That did not stop the shaking.

Professor Snape heard the murmur behind him; a sibilant chanting of a spell to bring Harry down from the air as quickly, and as hard as possible. Snape did not break his gaze, and began his own chant that fought against the invisible assailant. He paid no attention to the cries and shouts of students and teachers.

Only minutes later a sweat broke out on his forehead with the exertion of his magic. Harry was now dangling from the shaking broom, and hanging on for dear life. Beneath him flew both Gryffindor teams in preparation to catch him should he fall.

Just when Professor Snape thought he might be getting the child safely down from the air he smelled smoke. He tried to ignore it but then he yelped, and jerked in pain. Not only had his foot been burned but flames were climbing up his robes. He fell back, taking his eyes from the small flyer in distress. He hit Professor Quirrell just behind him, and Minerva McGonagall beside him. All three fell to the floor of the box while the other teachers threw water from Aguamenti from their wands.

In the air the two Gryffindor teams converged just as the school broom was viciously yanked from the last of his grip. Harry began to fall an impressive, and terrifying distance equal to 30 stories to the hard ground below. He fell into Fred and George Weasley. Fred's nose was broken, and George was forced into a spin as Harry bounced into him hard. Harry was thrown into a spin and his head was now aimed for the ground. He began to scream in stark terror as the ground sped up to meet him.

Professor Snape pushed all the teachers that were hovering around him in a suffocating manner. He could hear Harry screaming, "Daddy! Daddy! Help!"

With all his magic focussed on the falling child, Professor Snape thrust out his hand, and shouted, "RETARDO!!"

Harry's fall slowed drastically, and just before he hit the ground Professor Snape threw a wide Cushioning Charm beneath the boy. He then pushed aside teachers and student in order to get out of the teacher’s box and down to the ground.

Despite the slowing of his fall, and the Cushioning Charm (which burst when Harry hit) his body still thumped heavily. Harry's breath was knocked from his lungs, and his lips were turning blue as he struggled to start breathing.

Madame Hooch was pounding on his back, all of Gryffindor including both Quidditch teams were surrounding him. Professor Snape shoved through them and pushed aside Madame Hooch.

"Harry! I am here!" said the Potions Master as he cast a quick medical Diagnostic Charm over the child. Harry was still struggling to draw in breath and he focussed his frightened green gaze upon his teacher. His hands scratched frantically at his throat.

“He’s not breathing!” Hermione cried as she dropped to her knees beside him.

Normally the dreary teacher would make a caustic remark in regards to the silly girl vocalising the obvious but Harry was growing more terrified as the seconds passed. Tapping Harry’s chest with his wand he murmured a spell to start his lungs to breathing.

Harry drew in a deep, fresh, and welcome, life-giving breath, and promptly fell unconscious. Ignoring the outrage of the Gryffindors nearby, and several startled looks, Professor Snape scooped the child into his arms, and ran to the castle, and to the Hogwarts Infirmary.

Draco turned to scowl at the Gryffindor girl he had latched onto. "You were wrong, Hermione!"

"But he was staring at Harry, and chanting a spell!" she blustered.

"That doesn't mean Snape was trying to kill Harry!" Draco snapped away, and ran towards the castle.

Ron, not far from Hermione, shrugged when she turned to stare at him. "He's got a point, 'Mione."

"You're useless, Ron!" Hermione scathed and stomped after the throng that was now wending its way to the castle.

Much later after Harry had recovered from his scare, and everyone in Gryffindor brought him a treasure in treats, the Headmaster ambled in. Harry, with Hermione, Ron, and Draco all seated on the other side of his bed, glanced warily at the Headmaster.

"Ah, Harry. Recovered, are we from that tumble?" asked Professor Dumbledore with infinite servility.

"That were no tumble," grumbled Ron darkly.

"Harry would have died if it weren't for Professor Snape," defended Draco sharply. Hermione hung her head. She had yet to confess to the surly Potions Master that she had set fire to his foot and robes because she thought he was harming her friend.

"And thank Merlin for our Professor Snape," sighed the Headmaster. "Well, Harry, other than the mistake…”

Draco interrupted tautly, “It wasn’t a mistake. Harry was attacked.”

“That is rather an assumptive leap, Mr. Malfoy,” chided the Headmaster. “We really do not know what happened. It may have simply been that Harry did not have the magical control needed, as Professor Snape noted, and it was an accident.”

“It wasn’t an accident,” Ron repeated stubbornly.

“No it wasn’t,” interjected Hermione before the Headmaster could continue his excuses. “I don’t mean to be disrespectful, sir, but you weren’t at the game. You didn’t see what happened.”

Draco continued, “Harry’s flying was great, and then something tried to yank Harry’s broom right out from under him. If Professor Snape wasn’t working a counter-charm he would have been killed!”

Albus Dumbledore was disconcerted by the trio of distrusting looks that the three first years were giving him. Add it to Harry’s frank expression of fear -- of him -- and he felt suddenly off-kilter. The old wizard did his best to get control of the situation, “It is something that will be investigated I can assure each of you. That aside, though, I’m told by Madame Hooch that you flew well, Harry. I’m sure that must have been enjoyable.”

"I suppose it was okay," conceded Harry.

The Headmaster beamed as he studied all the cards of 'Get Well' and sweets. "I do believe that Mr. Wood would be acceptable to giving you the position as Seeker on the Gryffindor Quidditch team."

"They already have a Seeker," said Harry.

"Considering how well your father flew I think you might be better, Harry," Professor Dumbledore smiled at Harry as though he ought to be grateful for such a vote of confidence.

"Katie Bell is the Seeker," Harry informed the Headmaster stubbornly. "I don't want her put off the team."

"You need not concern yourself with that, Harry. I’m certain that Mr. Wood could work something out. Perhaps Miss Bell could be one of the valuable seconds." He conjured an overstuffed chair with a tapestry that clashed with his red velvet robes trimmed in ermine fur.

Harry shook his head. "That's okay, sir. Katie doesn't have to change positions. I don't want to play."

The Headmaster held onto the chocolate drop in his fingers. "But your father played, Harry."

"I just want to fly, sir," said Harry strongly.

The Headmaster popped the chocolate drop into his mouth. "James was quite the champion. I do believe he even earned an award for one game." He gave Harry a certain, and indulgent smile. "I'm sure you'd like to play Quidditch just as your father did."

"I don't want to play Quidditch, sir,” insisted Harry with a scowl. “It's too dangerous. I'd just like to fly." Harry crossed his arms over his thin chest.

The Headmaster looked over his silver spectacles at the boy as if he did not know what he was refusing. "The only way to fly at Hogwarts is while playing Quidditch, Harry. With a father as a hero no doubt you'd like to be just like him." His smile was affable but there was an underlying tone to his voice that was compelling.

Harry felt a wave come over him that pressed around him and convinced him that the Headmaster was making sense. Harry shook himself. It was weird to him how the Headmaster sounded like Uncle Vernon when he was trying to be reasonable and get Harry to do something that was unpleasant. He closed his eyes and shook away that odd feeling.  

"No, sir. I'm not James and I don't want to be a hero. And, Quidditch isn't the only place to fly. Professor Snape said he'd take me someplace where no one could hurt me and I could fly... even with my friends if I want." Suddenly the Headmaster stood from his chair and towered over him but Harry tried not to flinch. He did not like what the Headmaster kept telling him he had to do, and how much his father was a hero. Harry did not want to be his father, some hero in a stupid war they fought long before he was born.

"You are throwing away an opportunity for greatness, Harry. If you change your mind..." he turned away and walked to the Infirmary door. "Let me know."

The Quartet watched as the old wizard disappeared through the door. Oddly, it was Hermione who voiced what they were all thinking, "He's creepy!"