The Quidditch Curse

By the next day, word that Edmund had defeated a fully grown troll by himself had spread through the entire school.

Lavender Brown, in particular, spent lunch recounting every detail she had heard from Hermione. Her delivery was vivid enough, and specific enough, that even the skeptics had trouble dismissing it.

Hogwarts erupted all over again.

Edmund had been at school for less than two months, yet he had become one of the most talked-about students in the castle.

He had challenged the Sorting Hat's decision at the Sorting Ceremony, staged a daring rescue during flying lessons, joined the Quidditch team as a first-year, and now defeated a full-grown troll alone.

At this point, he had nearly overshadowed the Boy Who Lived.

Harry had shown an exceptional gift for flying, but his talent for Defence Against the Dark Arts had yet to emerge. Quirrell's classes made sure of that.

Once again, Edmund became the center of attention.

By dinner, the moment he entered the Great Hall, students from every table looked at him with open admiration. It was not only Ravenclaw, either. Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, and even a fair number of Slytherins stared as though he had stepped out of a heroic ballad.

"What is going on?" Edmund asked under his breath as he sat beside Cho. The attention made the back of his neck prickle.

"What do you think?" Cho said, her voice sweet enough to be dangerous. "Someone rescued another pretty girl last night, and now the whole school knows."

There was enough bite beneath the sweetness to make Edmund choose his next words carefully.

"It was not some grand rescue," he said, smiling awkwardly. "I wanted to test myself against the troll and happened to help Hermione along the way."

The memory of Hermione's kiss made the explanation feel less convincing than he would have liked.

Cho was still annoyed. She turned away and began talking to Marietta across the table, leaving Edmund to coax her back into a better mood one patient sentence at a time.

...

Saturday arrived soon after. It was the day of the Quidditch match between Slytherin and Gryffindor.

Edmund sat with Cho and the other Ravenclaw players, ready to watch the game.

"Slytherin does not care how it wins," Roger Davies said from the row in front of them. "Edmund, when we face them, you will need to protect our players. Do not let them bully us in the air."

He turned toward Cho.

"And Cho, watch both Seekers carefully. If Wood chose Potter, then the boy must have something special. Study his habits and his turns."

Only two new players had made Ravenclaw's team this year, Edmund and Cho, so Roger kept explaining both teams' players and tendencies in great detail.

"Do not worry, Roger," Edmund said, one arm resting around Cho's slender waist. "I will definitely protect our Seeker."

The double meaning was not subtle.

Cho leaned against him with a bright, contented smile. Roger Davies suddenly felt that he did not belong in that seat. He belonged underground, safely away from the two of them.

Having been fed enough romance for one afternoon, Roger stopped talking. He had already said everything useful.

Soon, the match began. Players from both teams rose into the air, and the two sets of supporters answered each other with enchanted banners and thunderous cheers.

The game quickly turned fierce. Then, before long, several people noticed Harry's Nimbus 2000 jerking violently beneath him. He could barely keep his balance, much less play.

Edmund stood.

His gaze swept the stands, and it did not take long for him to lock onto Professor Quirrell, whose lips were moving in a silent chant. Snape was chanting as well, from another part of the stands.

Edmund knew Quirrell was the real threat. He did not hesitate.

His eyes fixed on the Defence professor. His lips parted, and he murmured a curse too quietly for the noise around him to carry. Even Cho, sitting right beside him, did not hear what he said.

If anyone had caught the final word, however, it would have chilled them to the bone.

"Crucio."

A cold glint flashed in Edmund's eyes.

Across the stands, Quirrell's chanting stopped at once. He collapsed forward, twitching violently, his face twisting with pain.

Snape sensed the hostile magic on Harry's broom vanish. After a sharp glance around failed to reveal the source, he stopped chanting as well.

With the broom steady again, Harry relied on his sharp eyes and quick reflexes to seize the Golden Snitch.

Gryffindor defeated Slytherin, 160 to 60.

Edmund was quite satisfied.

He had several ways to stop Quirrell, but ever since drawing five uses of the Cruciatus Curse, he had wanted to test one. The result was excellent.

A wandless cast at that distance, with no visible spell trail, was precisely the sort of thing one expected from a master of the Dark Arts.

The match ended in chaos. Gryffindor celebrated wildly while Slytherin looked as though someone had spoiled their supper.

Edmund had no reason to stay. He took Cho's hand and walked slowly back toward the castle.

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