No Fortress Is So Strong, Chapter 11
Title: No Fortress Is So Strong
Summary: In 1981, the two Potter sons had their fates switched, and Nicolas Potter became a famous face. But there are those who know the truth, that the real Chosen One was the younger child. The Slytherin. Now, two brothers share a destiny.
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Brothers. Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Notes & Caveats: This is a rewrite of the fanfiction story Slytherin Serpent. The premise was originally thought up in 2004, rewritten in 2006, and rewritten again in 2009. This is the only complete version.
This chapter is as yet unbeta’ed for spelling, grammar, and brit-picking. I apologize for this in advance. If you spot any error, no matter how small, please tell me in a review so that I can fix it.
Many thanks to Micah, who examined this story for plot and continuity errors.
“When brothers agree, no fortress is so strong as their common life.” ~Antisthenes
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Chapter Eleven: Gryffindor vs. Slytherin
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As if the land around Hogwarts suddenly realized what time of year it was, the temperatures dropped drastically as November arrived, turning the lake into steely-grey, icy water and the mountains in the distance into menacing, snow-covered crags.
With the change of the weather, tension and excitement suddenly spiked in the student population.
Quidditch season had arrived.
The season’s first game promised to be a fantastic one - the basically rookie Gryffindor team, full of strength and potential, against the seasoned, experienced, and ruthless Slytherins.
Entering the Great Hall early that Saturday morning, Harry tossed his brother a wide, challenging grin. Nick looked almost green, and Harry felt a mixture of glee and sympathy. He loved his brother dearly, but Harry wanted Slytherin to win.
In response to Harry’s grin, Nick bared his teeth gamely back.
At ten-thirty Harry joined the river of black-robed students emerging from the castle, staying beside Zabini and Nott. By virtue of being small and quick, Harry managed to snag a set of three seats near the top of the Slytherin section of the stands, where they had an excellent view of the action.
There was a tingling sense of anticipation in the cold air as the Quidditch teams emerged from the changing rooms, brooms over their shoulders. The Slytherin team, to a player, were tall, broad-shouldered, and muscle-bound, even their Seeker. In contrast, the Gryffindor Captain was half their size and was still the tallest, broadest player on the Gryffindor team. Katie and Nick both looked absolutely tiny.
Hooch was refereeing. She called on the Captains to meet in the middle and shake hands, admonishing them to keep it fair, then called for them to mount up. There was a count to three, a whistle blow, and the two teams shot into the cold air.
“And they’re off!” the commentator shouted. “Slytherin takes the Quaffle, Captain Marcus Flint shooting down the pitch, nearly bowls over Chaser Potter there and bloody hell, what was that?”
“Language, Mr. Jordan,” McGonagall said over the voice magnifier, but she was barely heard over the gasps. Harry leapt to his feet, grinning.
Gryffindor had kept Nick a secret for a reason. As Flint had charged him, he’d neatly flipped backwards and to the side - and plucked the Quaffle lightly from his grasp without touching him at all.
“Gryffindor in possession!” Jordan was shouting, “courtesy of a lightning fast snatch by Potter! What a move! He’s darting up the pitch now, and passes - Johnson with the Quaffle now, and it’s back to Potter, now Spinnet, and back to third year Johnson - damn, intercepted by Pucey, who’s ripping back down the field with the Gryffindor Chasers out of range - dodges a Bludger from Weasley, shoots - yes! blocked by Keeper Wood there, excellent catch, Wood!”
The students were shouting, cheering their favorites as Wood flung the Quaffle out to be neatly caught by Harry’s brother, who spun on his tail and blazed across the field, crouched low on his broom. The Gryffindor Beaters tracked him, bouncing both Bludgers between them in an attempt to keep the opposing players away. Nick reached far field and slewed sideways with a neat pass to Alicia Spinnet, who snuck it through the right-hand ring while Bletchley focused on Nick’s decoy move.
“GRYFFINDOR SCORES!” Jordan shouted exuberantly. “Excellent play there by Potter and Spinnet, ten-zero Gryffindor! Now Slytherin’s in possession, with Montague dodging both Weasleys, and that’s Bole whacking a Bludger at Katie Bell, who neatly dodges…and Potter again! Neatly snags the Quaffle right from Montague’s grasp, passes to Spinnet, to Johnson, back to Spinnet, to Potter - Potter scores! Twenty-zero Gryffindor!”
Harry laughed and groaned simultaneously. The Slytherins clearly had no idea what to do with these fast, agile Gryffindor players.
“Bletchley throws to Pucey, Pucey in possession, heading for the goals - oh, oh, Katie Bell’s spotted the Snitch!”
Pucey dropped the Quaffle, looking over his shoulder at the speeding glimmer of gold.
“PUCEY!” Harry bellowed, but Pucey couldn’t hear over the roar of the crowd. Harry groaned and resisted the urge to cover his eyes as nearly every single player stopped what they were doing to watch the diving Seekers.
Then Flint snaked his way up through the hovering players and collided with Katie, sending her spinning wildly off course. The Gryffindors, players and spectators alike, roared with rage.
“Foul!” they shouted, and Jordan was echoing them stridently as Hooch blew her whistle.
“And Spinnet takes the shot, she scores, thirty-zero Gryffindor but the Snitch is gone, of course,” Jordan said glumly. “That’s Slytherin for you, though…”
“JORDAN!”
“Sorry, Professor, sorry. Gryffindor still in possession, and - bloody hell, what’s wrong with Potter’s broom?!”
Harry spun around to look for Nick, who was high above the playing field. Harry’s heart leapt into his throat as Nick’s beautiful new broom, the one he ordered special from the shop in Diagon Alley, twisted hard and flung itself through the air as if trying to buck him off. Harry stared at the ground, easily fifty feet below his brother, a distance that was growing with every subsequent buck and twist.
There was a dinging sound that Harry heard dimly through the blood rushing in his ears - the sound of Slytherin scoring.
His breath caught in his chest, and sound was suddenly muted. Except for a voice, chanting quietly in the distance, sounding strangely harmonized and hypnotic. Harry turned his head slowly, feeling like he was moving through molasses, and managed to focus his eyes on the stands across from him, where Professor Quirrell was speaking softly to nothing, his eyes on Nick’s plight.
There were gasps, suddenly overloud, as Nick swung completely off his broom and hung on desperately with one hand. The Gryffindor players were circling below him, hoping to catch him if he fell.
Feeling a sensation of calm purpose, Harry rose to his feet and turned away from the field to descend the stairs in the back. He leapt down them three at a time, because even though his emotions were oddly quiet he knew he did not have time to dither, for Quirrell was doing something to his brother’s broom and Harry was the only one who would do anything about it.
In the Ravenclaw stands, Hermione Granger snatched a pair of binoculars from another Ravenclaw and trained them directly on the Slytherin stands. She caught a glimpse of a small dark-haired boy descending, but her focus remained on the tall man in green robes who stared unblinkingly at Nick, mouth moving silently.
She jumped to her feet with a gasp of alarm and fled the down the steps, heading to her right towards the Slytherin section.
By this time Harry had reached the lowest tier-level and set off with determined purpose around the perimeter towards the stands across the way, picking up a run when a short scream from behind him galvanized him on. At the top, in the upper Gryffindor section, there was a small box reserved for unbiased Professors, those who weren’t Heads of House.
Quirrell was one of these Professors who, by the rules, could not take sides.
Harry started determinedly up the steps, resisting the urge to pull out his wand as he went. It would not help him here.
Hermione had reached the ground by then and was rushing towards the Slytherin section, her breath coming in painful gasps. She hit the entrance and raced up the steps, feeling sweat trickle down her spine.
Harry reached the top, and caught a glimpse of his brother being yanked to and fro by his wildly bucking broom. The sight firmed his resolve even harder, and Harry strode right up behind Quirrell and shoved him, hard, between the shoulder blades. Quirrell yelped in surprise and went head first into the row in front, and Harry shrank backwards and out of sight.
Hermione reached the top of the Slytherin stands then, and crouched behind Snape to set bluebell fire to his robes. It took just seconds for him to realize he was on fire, and a sudden snarl told her she had done her job. She scrambled away towards the stairs, praying that Snape would never know what had happened.
Up in the air, Nick clambered back onto his broom and caught a glimpse of gold out of the corner of his eye.
“Katie!” he shouted, pointing wildly, and she veered away and shot in that direction.
Nick’s shout had caught Higgs attention too, who bowled over players without regard to House and fought his way free, then took off like an arrow - but Katie was small, and fast, and had too far of a head start. Harry watched from the shadows as the Snitch darted down towards the ground and Katie dove steeply, leveled out just ten feet from the ground, stretched out a hand, and plucked the Snitch from the air.
Amongst a mix of wild cheers and furious shouts, Harry turned and headed down the stairs, feeling a strange mix of relief at Nick’s safety, and disappointment at Slytherin’s loss.
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“Quirrell is trying to kill my brother,” Harry said furiously later that evening. He was in Snape’s office, clutching the armrests of the chair he was sitting in.
“What did you see?” Snape asked intently.
“He was watching him, he wasn’t blinking,” Harry began feverishly. “He was muttering - but it wasn’t Latin. It was strange sounding…”
“Celtic,” Snape said. “Like all the jinxes in that subclass.”
“Celtic then,” Harry shrugged. “But he was doing it.”
“And what did you do?”
“I shoved him into the stands,” Harry said passionately. “I won’t stand for someone trying to kill my brother. I won’t.”
“An admirable sentiment, I’m sure,” Snape drawled, “but here is where your involvement ends. I thank you for bringing this to my attention, Mr. Potter, but I will take care of Professor Quirrell. You are to stay strictly out of it, do you understand?”
“What if he tries again?” Harry growled.
“He won’t,” Snape said with certainty. “Tell your brother to stay away from Quirrell, and do the same yourself, but I will prevent any chance of this happening again. You’re to stay out of it, Harry, am I clear?”
Harry looked directly into Snape’s eyes and said, “Crystal, Professor,” while lying his head off.
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“It was Snape,” Hermione said waveringly. “He was jinxing your broom!”
Nick, Jon, Katie, and Hermione were huddled in the library, speaking in whispers.
“Why would he want to kill me?” Nick asked in bewilderment. “I haven’t done anything.”
“I don’t know, but it was definitely him! We have to find out.”
Chapter Twelve