"I heard from Murcus that some forms of magic can even place life itself into a state of stillness," Daphne explained, recounting what she had learned about ancient ruins beneath the lake.
Both Roger Williams and Hermione looked surprised. Daphne's underwater adventures with the Selkie tribe had clearly given her access to knowledge that was difficult to find even in the Hogwarts library.
"Stillness?" Hermione exclaimed. "Isn't that immortality?"
"No, no, no." Daphne shook her head happily. At last, there was something the know-it-all did not know, and she was obviously enjoying the rare victory. "Life stillness means your life stops flowing. Once the magic is broken, life resumes its countdown."
Hermione's eyes brightened with thought, while Roger immediately understood why such magic would be useful for ancient ruins. If a treasure, guardian, or even a living creature had been sealed in that kind of state, eight hundred years might not matter much at all.
"Since we've found a clue, why don't we relax and watch Quidditch tomorrow?" Daphne suggested. "There's no need to rush. Anyway, eight hundred years have already passed, so whether we solve it one day earlier or later hardly matters."
Roger opened his mouth to refuse, but Daphne continued before he could speak. "Besides, our House is playing Gryffindor tomorrow. What if Professor Snape finds out you didn't go?"
The threat worked. Remembering Snape's increasingly irritable temper, Roger could only nod and agree to attend the match.
The next day was bright and clear, and professors and students flocked toward the Quidditch pitch's high stands. The stadium flags and railings had been newly decorated, half in Slytherin silver and green, the other half in Gryffindor scarlet and gold.
On the central commentary platform, Gryffindor student Lee Jordan announced the match to the crowd. "Today, Gryffindor will face Slytherin."
He caught sight of Harry entering the pitch and instantly grew more excited. "Look! Gryffindor has a new Seeker. He's our very own first-year, Harry Potter."
As Harry soared into the air, Lee Jordan introduced his broom to everyone, then cried out in surprise, "Merlin's beard, it's a Nimbus 2000! The latest model from the Nimbus Racing Broom Company. It's unbelievably fast, and Slytherin's old brooms will never catch our Harry."
"Ahem."
Professor McGonagall coughed twice beside him, reminding Lee to be mindful of fairness in his commentary. After her warning, Lee restrained himself slightly, but his words still leaned very clearly toward Gryffindor.
"Go Gryffindor! Go Gryffindor!"
The cheers from the other three Houses quickly drowned out Slytherin's shouts. Roger glanced toward the Gryffindor stands, where Hermione's banner shimmered brilliantly beneath the sunlight and stood out at once.
"The players are in position, and Madam Hooch has entered the pitch," Lee Jordan shouted. "The Golden Snitch has been released. Catching it ends the match and earns the team one hundred and fifty points."
The moment Madam Hooch threw the Quaffle into the air, Lee's voice rang across the stadium. "The match begins."
"Oh, Merlin," Roger muttered as players shot past far too close for comfort, and he quickly lowered his head.
The Gryffindor players seized the Quaffle first. Their figures flashed swiftly across the pitch, heading straight toward the Slytherin goalposts.
"Excellent," Lee cheered. "The Quaffle is taken by Gryffindor Chaser Angelina Johnson."
Angelina dodged two Slytherin players with a sharp turn, then charged straight through the air. Lee Jordan watched his goddess tear across the sky and began cheering for her with barely disguised admiration.
"Angelina is a magnificent Chaser. Not only is her technique superb, but she's also incredibly charming," Lee said passionately. "Our beautiful Angelina was only a reserve last year, but today she has completely dominated Slytherin."
"Jordan," Professor McGonagall interrupted again, her tone dangerous.
"Sorry, Professor," Lee said quickly.
He forced himself back to the match, though his enthusiasm for Gryffindor's players remained painfully obvious. "A fast, direct pass. She tricks the Slytherin Chaser and sends the Quaffle to Alicia Spinnet. What a slow opponent, and what a brilliant tactic."
His commentary echoed across the stadium, and the Slytherin students glared angrily toward the platform. Lee Jordan either did not notice or chose not to care.
"Oh no. Two Slytherin Chasers are closing in on Alicia from front and back," Lee shouted. "Brilliant. She passes to Johnson. Wait, no! Slytherin has stolen the Quaffle."
"Yeah!"
The young Slytherins around Roger cheered loudly. Daphne even jumped up to shout for their House, her earlier friendship with Hermione forgotten under the heat of the match.
"The Quaffle is now in the hands of Slytherin captain Marcus Flint, and he's charging toward the Gryffindor goal. Is he about to score?"
Marcus's charge made everyone tense. He hurled the Quaffle desperately toward the hoop, but Wood suddenly appeared and knocked it away with a clean sweep of his broom.
"Beautiful defence from Captain Wood."
The ball fell into the hands of Chaser Katie Bell, but a Bludger came roaring toward her almost immediately. Katie tried to dodge it, and in that brief moment, Slytherin's Adrian Pucey stole the Quaffle.
"Pucey is driving toward the goal. Can Captain Wood stop him again?" Lee's voice rose with the action. "Well done! Another Bludger hits Pucey. The Weasley twins are doing magnificent work as Beaters, and Angelina has recovered the Quaffle."
"There's nothing ahead of her. Angelina is accelerating, still accelerating. It's like she's flying."
"The goal is right there. Come on, Angelina. My goddess! Goal! Gryffindor scores."
Lee Jordan's roar and Gryffindor's cheers echoed in the cold wind. Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff applauded and celebrated as well, adding to the noise pressing down on the Slytherin stands.
Roger listened to the growls and groans around him, then looked toward Harry Potter drifting near the edge of the pitch. Matches involving Harry always ended with him catching the Golden Snitch, which made Roger feel that the rest of the game was mostly decoration.
"Slytherin launches another attack, but it's still ineffective," Lee shouted as Wood struck the Quaffle away again. "Gryffindor immediately begins a counterattack."
"It's the Porskoff Ploy. Katie and Angelina's teamwork is excellent, and they've completely fooled Slytherin's Chasers."
"A beautiful back pass. Keeper Bletchley reacts too late again. Gryffindor scores."
"Twenty-nil. Gryffindor takes the lead."
Then Lee's voice sharpened with outrage. "Damn it, Flint has grabbed a Beater's bat and sent a Bludger straight at Wood. Foul! That's a foul."
Gasps erupted through the stands as Wood was struck by the Bludger and fell toward the sand below. Professor McGonagall immediately stood, her face tight with concern.
"Foul," the Gryffindors shouted angrily.
Madam Hooch only shook her head in frustration. Quidditch rules were brutal, and unfortunately, that particular move had not technically violated them.
"Clear and despicable cheating," Lee said bitterly. "Even if it somehow doesn't break the rules."
"Damn Jordan," Malfoy said angrily from nearby, looking as if he wanted to seal the commentator's mouth with a spell.
After Wood left the pitch, Gryffindor's substitute Keeper rushed in to fill the gap. His skills were clearly far inferior, and Slytherin quickly took advantage, clawing back the score and then pushing ahead.
Just as the Slytherins began cheering in triumph, Harry's broom suddenly went out of control. It jerked violently, leaping upward and dropping down again as if trying to throw him off.
Harry clung tightly to the handle, fighting not to be hurled into the air by the wild shaking. Then the broom abruptly spun a full circle, leaving Harry dangling beneath it with only one hand gripping the wood.
Everyone gasped. Students across the stands began shouting and pointing, their excitement turning to fear as they realised Harry might fall.
"Harry's broom is out of control," Daphne said, raising her binoculars with a frown.
"Don't worry. The Headmaster and professors are in the stands," Roger said. "Wood was fine after falling. He'll just need the hospital wing."
He searched the platform quickly and soon spotted Snape dressed in black. Looking above him, he saw Quirrell wearing his absurd turban.
"There. Point your binoculars over there," Roger said, guiding Daphne's gaze.
"Professor Snape?" Daphne covered her mouth in shock. She could hardly believe their Head of House would openly plot against the Boy Who Lived in front of the entire school.
"Look higher," Roger said, gently lifting her hand.
Quirrell appeared in her field of view.
"Professor Quirrell?" Daphne asked, confused. "But he isn't doing anything."
"That's exactly the problem. He's too quiet," Roger said. "Everyone else has an expression, whether worry, fear, or even schadenfreude. Only he sits motionless, which is very abnormal."
He kept his voice low. "Besides wandless casting, wizards also have nonverbal casting. Our Defence Against the Dark Arts professor may be an expert in that area."
Roger still could not understand why Quirrell would do this. Was he simply trying to hurt Harry? Voldemort could not possibly be that stupid, could he?
Even if he wanted to make a move, he should not do it in front of Dumbledore. Even if Quirrell succeeded, what then? Harry would spend a few days in the hospital wing at most.
"Could Quirrell be behind it?" Roger murmured.
"What?" Daphne asked, puzzled.
"I mean one of them is trying to throw Harry off, and the other is trying to save him," Roger said with a smile, refusing to reveal the whole truth.
"I hate riddles," Daphne said, pouting as she glared at him. Then she noticed fresh movement in the stands and quickly lifted her binoculars again. "A fire? Let me see who did that."
She scanned the area, but failed to spot Hermione, who had secretly slipped away.
Freed from the spell's influence, Harry regained control of the Nimbus 2000. Like a cowboy taming a wild horse, he conquered the raging broom and won thunderous applause and cheers from the crowd.
.....
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