'd ever see him alive again. This wasn't what you'd

call comforting. Harry hardly heard a word of Wood's pep talk as he

pulled on his Quidditch robes and picked up his Nimbus Two Thousand.

Ron and Hermione, meanwhile, had found a place in the stands

next to Neville, who couldn't understand why they looked so

grim and worried, or why they had both brought their wands to the

match. Little did Harry know that Ron and Hermione had been secretly

practicing the Leg-Locker Curse. They'd gotten the idea from Malfoy

using it on Neville, and were ready to use it on Snape if he showed

any sign of wanting to hurt Harry.

"Now, don't forget, it's Locomotor Mortis," Hermione muttered

as Ron slipped his wand up his sleeve.

"I know," Ron snapped. "Don't nag."

Back in the locker room, Wood had taken Harry aside.

"Don't want to pressure you, Potter, but if we ever need an

early capture of the Snitch it's now. Finish the game before Snape

can favor Hufflepuff too much."

"The whole school's out there!" said Fred Weasley, peering out

of the door. "Even -- blimey -- Dumbledore's come to watch!"

Harry's heart did a somersault.

"Dumbledore?" he said, dashing to the door to make sure. Fred

was right. There was no mistaking that silver beard.

Harry could have laughed out loud with relief He was safe. There

was simply no way that Snape would dare to try to hurt him if

Dumbledore was watching.

Perhaps that was why Snape was looking so angry as the teams

marched onto the field, something that Ron noticed, too.

"I've never seen Snape look so mean," he told Hermione. "Look

-they're off Ouch!"

Someone had poked Ron in the back of the head. It was Malfoy.

"Oh, sorry, Weasley, didn't see you there."

Malfoy grinned broadly at Crabbe and Goyle.

"Wonder how long Potter's going to stay on his broom this

time? Anyone want a bet? What about you, Weasley?"

Ron didn't answer; Snape had just awarded Hufflepuff a penalty

because George Weasley had hit a Bludger at him. Hermione, who had

all her fingers crossed in her lap, was squinting fixedly at Harry,

who was circling the game like a hawk, looking for the Snitch.

"You know how I think they choose people for the Gryffindor

team?" said Malfoy loudly a few minutes later, as Snape awarded

Hufflepuff another penalty for no reason at all. "It's people

they feel sorry for. See, there's Potter, who's got no parents,

then there's the Weasleys, who've got no money -- you should be on

the team, Longbottom, you've got no brains."

Neville went bright red but turned in his seat to face Malfoy.

"I'm worth twelve of you, Malfoy," he stammered.

Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle howled with laughter, but Ron, still

not daring to take his eyes from the game, said, "You tell him,

Neville."

"Longbottom, if brains were gold you'd be poorer than Weasley,

and that's saying something."

Ron's nerves were already stretched to the breaking point with

anxiety about Harry.

"I'm warning you, Malfoy -- one more word

"Ron!" said Hermione suddenly, "Harry --"

"What? Where?"

Harry had suddenly gone into a spectacular dive, which drew gasps

and cheers from the crowd. Hermione stood up, her crossed fingers

in her mouth, as Harry streaked toward the ground like a bullet.

"You're in luck, Weasley, Potter's obviously spotted some money

on the ground!" said Malfoy.

Ron snapped. Before Malfoy knew what was happening, Ron was

on top of him, wrestling him to the ground. Neville hesitated,

then clambered over the back of his seat to help.

"Come on, Harry!" Hermione screamed, leaping onto her seat to

watch as Harry sped straight at Snape -- she didn't even notice

Malfoy and Ron rolling around under her seat, or the scuffles and

yelps coming from the whirl of fists that was Neville, Crabbe,

and Goyle.

Up in the air, Snape turned on his broomstick just in time

to see something scarlet shoot past him, missing him by inches --

the next second, Harry had pulled out of the dive, his arm raised

in triumph, the Snitch clasped in hi