Quirks in Wizarding World

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- Hogwarts Quidditch Pitch -

- September 15, 1991 -

The stadium erupted in cheers. Gryffindor banners waved wildly as students celebrated their team's victory. All of them were breifly able to catch a glimpse of Harry securing the snitch and that imlied one thing. The match was over—Gryffindor had won.

But Harry wasn't celebrating.

Still hovering in midair, he clutched his stomach, his face twisted in discomfort. Before anyone could react, he doubled over—

And spat out something small and golden.

Silence hung in the air for a split second before the crowd exploded in cheers, even louder than before.

"He swallowed the Snitch!" Terry Boot choked out, barely holding back laughter.

Arthav, Hermione, and the others pushed their way toward the pitch as Madam Hooch blew her whistle, officially ending the game. The Gryffindor players swarmed Harry, ruffling his hair, clapping him on the back. Fred and George wasted no time hoisting him into the air, grinning like madmen.

Arthav smirked but felt a deep fatigue settle in his bones. His mind buzzed with what had just happened—what he had just done. The golden tendrils, the burning strain of bending magic itself. It had worked, but at a cost.

"Harry!" Hermione's voice cut through his thoughts as she ran ahead, her face full of worry. "Are you alright?"

Still looking winded, Harry managed a weak smile. "Yeah. I think I almost died. But other than that—"

"—You won us the match!" Parvati interrupted, grabbing his arm excitedly. "That was incredible! You caught the Snitch in your mouth!"

"Bit unconventional, but a win's a win," Anthony added with a grin.

Ron finally pushed through the crowd, looking breathless. His usual scowl softened. "That was brilliant, mate."

Harry gave a tired chuckle, shaking his head. "Honestly, I didn't even see it properly. One second I was falling, the next—" He shrugged.

Arthav exchanged a glance with Hermione. They knew better.

But now wasn't the time to talk about it.

"Come on," Padma said, looping her arm through Parvati's. "Let's get back to the common room before someone drags Harry off for an interview."

Laughing and chatting about the match, they made their way back to the castle.

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- Hogwarts Quidditch Pitch – Professor's Stands -

Severus Snape stood at the edge of the professor's stands, watching the celebration with a deep frown.

His head ached—not from the noise, but from the thoughts racing through his mind.

The jinx on Potter's broom had been strong. Stronger than it should have been.

His counter-curse had barely held up. At first, he had assumed Quirrell was solely behind it. That made sense. The man was weak, a pathetic excuse for a wizard—always stuttering, fumbling, pretending to be incompetent. But no… that power wasn't something Quirrell alone could command.

He was being aided.

That was the only explanation. And Snape had a very strong suspicion about who was behind it.

The Dark Lord.

Snape had never believed Voldemort to be truly gone. A sentiment he shared with Dumbledore, given the prophecy. But today, even weakened, Voldemort's influence had been clear in that dark magic. Quirrell had something—an artifact, some forbidden tool that amplified his power.

And if that was the case…

Snape's hands clenched into fists.

This was worse than he had thought.

He needed to speak with Dumbledore. Immediately.

But there was something else.

As he had struggled to keep the jinx at bay, another force had joined him. It wasn't dark magic, nor was it the magic of the castle interfering. No, this had been… different. Raw, untamed, yet precise.

Another variable.

Someone else had intervened.

Snape's lips pressed into a thin line. He loathed unknowns—especially when it came to protecting Potter.

And he would find out who was behind it.

Without another glance at the pitch, he turned sharply, his black robes billowing behind him as he strode away, already planning his next conversation with the Headmaster.

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- Gryffindor Tower – Common Room -

The party started the moment they entered the common room.

Fireworks—courtesy of the Weasley twins—exploded across the ceiling, filling the room with bursts of red and gold light. Someone had snuck in snacks from the kitchens, and a few Butterbeer bottles had mysteriously appeared on the tables.

Gryffindors surrounded Harry, cheering his name, clapping him on the back.

"Harry Potter—the Snitch Swallower!" George declared, raising an imaginary toast.

"Sounds disgusting when you put it like that," Fred added with a grin.

Despite his exhaustion, Harry laughed along with the others.

Arthav leaned against an armchair, watching the celebration. He wasn't one to throw himself into loud parties, but seeing his friends happy was enough.

A dull headache throbbed behind his eyes—a reminder of what he had done.

Hermione plopped down beside him, arms crossed. "You're thinking too hard again."

Arthav arched a brow. "That obvious?"

She gave him a knowing look. "You always get that look when you're analyzing something."

Then, after a pause, she leaned in slightly. "I saw what happened out there. Snape was trying to kill Harry. The moment I lit that fire and distracted him, Harry's broom stabilized."

His fingers stilled.

Arthav lowered his voice. "Snape wasn't jinxing Harry. He was helping."

Hermione frowned. "But I saw him muttering a spell. Without even looking away from Harry."

Arthav exhaled slowly. "A counter-curse. The jinx was Quirrell's doing—I saw it with my own eyes."

Her frown deepened, but she trusted him. He wasn't one to lie, and he had no reason to.

"So… Quirrell was behind it?" she asked.

"Most likely."

Silence settled between them, the party noise fading into the background.

"…And you helped too, didn't you?" Hermione's voice was quiet but certain.

Arthav met her gaze. Her brown eyes were sharp, questioning, but not accusing.

He hesitated, then gave a small nod.

Hermione exhaled. "I thought so. Your nose was bleeding."

"Tired myself out a little," he admitted with a shrug.

She bit her lip, clearly wanting to ask more, but before she could, a loud bang rang through the room—another firework exploding above them.

"Alright, alright!" Fred's voice boomed over the crowd. "Before we all pass out from celebrating, let's give one last cheer for our Seeker! Three—two—one—"

"TO HARRY!"

The common room shook with the force of their voices.

Harry turned bright red, laughing as he waved them off. "Alright, alright, enough! Someone else needs to win next time, yeah?"

Arthav chuckled, shaking his head.

For now, they could celebrate.

But deep inside, he knew this was just the beginning.

Snape was watching.

Quirrell had more power than expected.

And Voldemort…

He wasn't gone.

He was lurking. Waiting.

Arthav would have to be ready.

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