The three girls didn’t join the other Slytherin students in the stands reserved for cheering on their team.
Instead, Draca led Pansy and Daphne to the neutral spectators’ section, deliberately choosing seats in the front row one level below Professor Quirrell.
Draca was pleased to discover that not long after the three of them sat down, Severus appeared in the same stand.
They greeted Quirrell and Severus, then watched as Severus took a seat directly behind Quirrell.
The moment Severus sat down, Quirrell seemed extremely uncomfortable.
Compared to his usual nervous, suspicious manner, however, Draca couldn’t shake the feeling that something chilling had briefly passed across his uneasy expression.
Amid the roaring cheers of the Gryffindor students, the match soon began.
Although Draca had no intention of paying much attention to the game, she couldn’t help noticing that Harry spent most of the match simply circling through the air without doing anything.
For some inexplicable reason, that annoyed her, and her gaze gradually lingered on Harry more and more.
During Flying class, he’d been able to match her move for move.
Yet now, in an official match, riding the fastest broom available, his performance was this mediocre.
Wouldn’t that make people think her own flying skills weren’t particularly impressive either?
Draca narrowed her eyes in displeasure.
Then a flash of gold suddenly caught her attention.
The Golden Snitch was right there, almost directly in front of them.
Draca immediately looked up at Harry and discovered that he’d already begun accelerating into a dive.
A small thrill rose in her chest before she could stop it.
At least his eyesight was sharp, and his reactions were quick enough.
Then came a heavy crash.
Harry had flown close to the stands when Flint, Slytherin’s captain, suddenly slammed into him and nearly knocked him off his broom.
Boos erupted throughout the pitch.
Draca exchanged looks with Pansy and Daphne.
Although none of them particularly approved of such crude behavior from someone in Flint’s position, they also believed that a competition naturally left room for doing whatever it took to win.
Harry was hovering only about five meters above the seats in front of Draca.
He struggled to straighten his glasses, then glanced toward her from the corner of his eye, looking almost accusing.
Draca raised an eyebrow and was about to stare back when she suddenly felt something brush lightly past the side of her hair.
The match had paused because of Flint’s foul.
While Gryffindor took the penalty shot, Draca noticed that Harry’s Nimbus 2000 seemed to be trembling strangely.
She blinked quietly.
She could almost hear Quirrell muttering something behind her.
It sounded like the recitation of a poem, his pitch rising and falling, his voice growing louder and softer.
Taking a risk, Draca slowly turned her head.
Quirrell was staring fixedly at Harry’s broom, continuously muttering under his breath.
He hadn’t noticed Draca watching him at all.
Looking farther up, she saw Severus wearing a guarded expression.
He too was staring in Harry’s direction, quietly murmuring something with complete concentration.
Draca bit her lip.
She remembered seeing something about this in her father’s study.
Casting a curse without using a wand was an extremely difficult form of magic.
She immediately decided not to reveal that she’d noticed anything.
Turning calmly back around, she quietly began thinking about what she should do.
“Doesn’t Potter’s broom look strange?”
“Maybe it got damaged when he was hit just now…?”
Pansy and Daphne had noticed Harry’s situation as well.
Eyes all across the stadium gathered on him, and startled cries rose one after another as Harry was violently jolted around on his broom.
Then the Nimbus 2000 suddenly bucked in midair and nearly threw Harry off completely.
Draca finally made up her mind.
She spun around and had just begun to rise when a figure with bushy brown hair suddenly crashed into her, knocking her sideways.
“Draca!
Pansy and Daphne cried out together and caught her.
Draca angrily pushed herself upright, only to discover that Quirrell had also been knocked to the ground.
Strangely, he didn’t seem to be in any hurry to get back up from the narrow aisle.
He merely struggled uncertainly while clutching his turban tightly with both hands.
The stands descended into chaos.
The students who had already been reluctant to sit beside Quirrell began complaining loudly after being caught up in the collision.
Then black smoke suddenly rose from behind them, accompanied by the acrid smell of something burning and an angry roar from Severus.
The hem of his robes had caught fire, and he was hurriedly raising his wand to extinguish it.
Pansy and Daphne had both turned completely away from the match by now.
The three girls nervously held onto one another as they stared at the chaos behind their seats.
Then a roar of celebration suddenly erupted from the pitch.
Flint was shouting furiously.
“He didn’t even catch the Golden Snitch!
He nearly swallowed it!”
Apparently, Harry Potter had somehow brought the match to an extraordinary end.
But Draca’s eyes remained fixed on the person responsible for the chaos in the stands.
She watched the energetic figure with bushy brown hair race excitedly down from the stands.
Draca recognized her immediately.
Hermione Granger.
“Draca!”
“You two go back first.
I want to ask her a few questions!”
Without waiting for Madam Hooch to officially announce the result of the match, Draca bit her lip and hurried after Granger.
When she heard Daphne and Pansy following her down from the stands, Draca quickly turned around to reassure them.
As she hurried forward, her thoughts raced.
Granger had obviously noticed Quirrell’s behavior too.
That had to be why she’d rushed into the stands and caused the commotion.
But how had she known?
And exactly how much did she know?
Could she possibly know that Quirrell wanted to steal whatever was hidden beneath the trapdoor on the third floor?
Either way, the confusion after the match was the perfect opportunity to catch her and demand an explanation.
The spectators weren’t in any hurry to leave.
Most of the Gryffindors remained at the pitch to celebrate, while quite a few Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs, dissatisfied with Slytherin’s long-standing domination of the House Cup, stayed behind as well.
That made it easier for Draca to conceal the fact that she was following Hermione, though it also forced her to spend considerable effort weaving around the overly excited crowd.
Before she could catch up to Granger, however, she saw Hermione meet up with Harry and Ron.
The three began walking in the direction of the Forbidden Forest.
Draca frowned deeply.
After checking her surroundings and making certain no one was watching her, she gritted her teeth and slowly followed.
She kept a great distance between herself and the trio, relieved that they remained on the path leading toward the forest.
Then, to her shock, the three casually walked into the gamekeeper’s hut at the edge of the Forbidden Forest.
Didn’t I warn him that the gamekeeper was dangerous?
Granger too—what is a girl even thinking, going into a place like that?
Of course Muggles would enjoy associating with someone so crude and barbaric.
While inwardly criticizing Potter and Granger for their carelessness and improper behavior, Draca frowned and quietly approached the simple wooden hut.
She moved slowly and cautiously, taking almost ten minutes to reach the side of the building.
Then Hagrid’s furious roar immediately froze her in place.
“I’m telling you, you’ve got it completely wrong!”
The memory of the troll attack flashed involuntarily through Draca’s mind.
She drew her wand while scanning the snow-covered grounds for possible escape routes.
“I don’t know why Harry’s broom started acting like that, but Snape would never try to kill a student!”
Hagrid’s angry words immediately seized Draca’s attention.
Don’t tell me Granger caused that commotion because she thought Severus was trying to kill Potter?
While Draca considered the possibility, Hagrid raised his voice again.
“Now listen to me, you three.
You’re far too nosy!
Getting mixed up in things that have nothing to do with you is dangerous!”
There was anxious concern mixed into Hagrid’s anger as he lectured them, surprising Draca yet again.
Was this drunken, rough man actually trying to discipline these reckless students who were always breaking rules?
“You’d better forget about that dog, and forget whatever it’s guarding.
That’s between Dumbledore and Nicolas Flamel—”
“Aha!
So this has something to do with someone named Nicolas Flamel, does it?”
Harry interrupted before Hagrid could finish.
Draca was even more stunned.
She had never imagined she would gather this much information simply by standing outside the gamekeeper’s hut.
She didn’t even notice the sounds of Hagrid hurriedly clearing away the cups inside.
“Er…
Malfoy?”
Only when the three opened the hut door and Harry greeted her in surprise did Draca finally come back to herself.
She froze, suddenly embarrassed at having been caught eavesdropping.
Her cheeks grew hot.
After hesitating for a moment, she turned and fled back toward the castle.
After that day, whenever Harry saw Draca, he always looked wary, yet seemed as though there was something he wanted to say.
Christmas break soon arrived.
Crabbe had originally been loudly mocking the few first-years who were forced to remain at school.
When he learned that Draca had chosen to stay as well, he could only stare with his mouth hanging open, unable to say another word.
After reluctantly saying goodbye to Pansy and Daphne on the platform at Hogsmeade Station, Draca returned to the school alone.
She entered the empty common room, went into her dormitory, and took a notebook from the wooden cabinet in her writing desk.
She flipped through it until she found the thoughts she’d written down on the day of the opening Quidditch match.
Key Clue Notes:
The object guarded by the three-headed dog is connected to Nicolas Flamel.
This isn’t the first time I’ve heard that name.
Nicolas Flamel Notes I:
Mother once said that more than fifty years ago, there was an accident in a cemetery in Paris that nearly burned the entire city down.
Nicolas Flamel led several Aurors and used alchemy combined with magic to stop the disaster.
Later, when Mother and I were discussing whether I should study at Beauxbatons, I became curious while researching the school and looked into this famous alumnus.
Nicolas Flamel Notes II:
Possibly the greatest alchemist who ever lived.
Born in the fifteenth century, he achieved many remarkable things.
His most celebrated accomplishment was successfully creating the Philosopher’s Stone.
Scattered Thoughts:
Is the Philosopher’s Stone what the three-headed dog is guarding beneath the trapdoor?
Why is the Philosopher’s Stone at Hogwarts?
And why does Quirrell want to steal it?
Those complicated questions occupied Draca through the first few days of the holiday.
She was so absorbed in them that even after the Christmas feast, she failed to notice Harry Potter walking toward her.
It really helps the fic grow!