As they entered November, the weather turned very cold. The mountains
around the school became icy gray and the lake like chilled steel. Every
morning the ground was covered in frost. Hagrid could be seen from the
upstairs windows defrosting broomsticks on the Quidditch field, bundled
up in a long moleskin overcoat, rabbit fur gloves, and enormous
beaverskin boots.

The Quidditch season had begun. On Saturday, {{Harry}} would be playing in
his first match after weeks of training: Gryffindor versus Slytherin. If
Gryffindor won, they would move up into second place in the house
championship.

Hardly anyone had seen Harry play because Wood had decided that, as
their secret weapon, Harry should be kept, well, secret. But the news
that he was playing Seeker had leaked out somehow, and Harry didn't know
which was worse -- people telling him he'd be brilliant or people
telling him they'd be running around underneath him holding a mattress.

It was really lucky that Harry now had {{Hermlone}} as a friend. He didn't
know how he'd have gotten through all his homework without her, what
with all the last-minute Quidditch practice Wood was making them do. She
had also tent him Quidditch Through the Ages, which turned out to be a
very interesting read.

Harry learned that there were seven hundred ways of committing a
Quidditch foul and that all of them had happened during a World Cup
match in 1473; that Seekers were usually the smallest and fastest
players, and that most serious Quidditch accidents seemed to happen to
them; that although people rarely died playing Quidditch, referees had
been known to vanish and turn up months later in the Sahara Desert.

Hermione had become a bit more relaxed about breaking rules since Harry
and Ron had saved her from the mountain troll, and she was much nicer
for it. The day before Harry's first Quidditch match the three of them
were out in the freezing courtyard during break, and she had conjured
them up a bright blue fire that could be carried around in a jam jar.
They were standing with their backs to it, getting warm, when Snape
crossed the yard. Harry noticed at once that Snape was limping. Harry,
Ron, and Hermione moved closer together to block the fire from view;
they were sure it wouldn't be allowed. Unfortunately, something about
their guilty faces caught Snape's eye. He limped over. He hadn't seen
the fire, but he seemed to be looking for a reason to tell them off
anyway.

"What's that you've got there, Potter?"

It was Quidditch Through the Ages. Harry showed him.

"Library books are not to be taken outside the school," said Snape.
"Give it to me. Five points from Gryffindor."

"He's just made that rule up," Harry muttered angrily as Snape limped
away. "Wonder what's wrong with his leg?"

"Dunno, but I hope it's really hurting him," said {{Ron}} bitterly.

The Gryffindor common room was very noisy that evening. Harry, Ron, and
Hermione sat together next to a window. Hermione was checking Harry and
Ron's Charms homework for them. She would never let them copy ("How will
you learn?"), but by asking her to read it through, they got the right
answers anyway.

Harry felt restless. He wanted Quidditch Through the Ages back, to take
his mind off his nerves about tomorrow. Why should he be afraid of
Snape? Getting up, he told Ron and Hermione he was going to ask Snape if
he could have it.

"Better you than me," they said together, but Harry had an idea that
Snape wouldn't refuse if there were other teachers listening.

He made his way down to the staffroom and knocked. There was no answer.
He knocked again. Nothing.

Perhaps Snape had left the book in there? It was worth a try. He pushed
the door ajar and peered inside -- and a horrible scene met his eyes.

Snape and Filch were inside, alone. Snape was holding his robes above
his knees. One of his legs was bloody and mangled. Filch was handing
Snape bandages.

"Blasted thing*," Snape was saying. "How are you supposed to keep your
eyes on all three heads at once?"

Harry tried to shut the door quietly, but --

"POTTER!"

Snape's face was twisted with fury as he dropped his robes quickly to
hide his leg. Harry gulped.

"I just wondered if I could have my book back."

"GET OUT! OUT!"

Harry left, before Snape could take any more points from Gryffindor. He
sprinted back upstairs.

"Did you get it?" Ron asked as Harry joined them. "What's the matter?"

In a low whisper, Harry told them what he'd seen.

"You know what this means?" he finished breathlessly. "He tried to get
past that three-headed dog at Halloween! That's where he was going when
we saw him -- he's after whatever it's guarding! And Id bet my
broomstick he let that troll in, to make a diversion!"

Hermione's eyes were wide.

"No -- he wouldn't, she said. "I know he's not very nice, but he
wouldn't try and steal something Dumbledore was keeping safe."

"Honestly, Hermione, you think all teachers are saints or something,"
snapped Ron. "I'm with Harry. I wouldn't put anything past Snape. But
what's he after? What's that dog guarding?"

Harry went to bed with his head buzzing with the same question. Neville
was snoring loudly, but Harry couldn't sleep. He tried to empty his mind
-- he needed to sleep, he had to, he had his first Quidditch match in a
few hours -- but the expression on Snape's face when Harry had seen his
leg wasn't easy to forget.

The next morning dawned very bright and cold. The Great Hall was full of
the delicious smell of fried sausages and the cheer ful chatter of
everyone looking forward to a good Quidditch match.

"You've got to eat some breakfast."

"I don't want anything."

"Just a bit of toast," wheedled Hermione.

"I'm not hungry."

Harry felt terrible. In an hour's time he'd be walking onto the field.

"Harry, you need your strength," said Seamus Finnigan. "Seekers are
always the ones who get clobbered by the other team."

"Thanks, Seamus," said Harry, watching Seamus pile ketchup on his
sausages.

By eleven o'clock the whole school seemed to be out in the stands around
the Quidditch pitch. Many students had binoculars. The seats might be
raised high in the air, but it was still difficult to see what was going
on sometimes.