At that moment, Hagrid arrived.
He made his way to the Gryffindor stands, where four students had to scoot over just to make enough space for him to sit down.
Hagrid, furious, grumbled, "I can't believe it. The moment I arrive, I see a Slytherin player pull something like that."
Leaning down, he whispered to Hermione, "I've read about your Muggle sports rules. They're actually great. But the fools at the Ministry refuse to learn anything from Muggles."
Hermione, however, was barely paying attention—her mind was already racing, thinking how to write her letter in a way that would actually convince those people.
Meanwhile, Jordan was proving just how hot-blooded he was.
Completely ignoring the fact that Professor McGonagall was sitting right next to him, he grabbed the microphone, loudly condemning Slytherin's despicable tactics.
Then, at the top of his lungs, he announced that he had come up with a new nickname for Flint—"The Murderer."
Surprisingly, McGonagall didn't stop him this time.
Her lips were trembling—not out of fear, but out of rage.
The Match Continues…
Despite the mass outrage in the stands, the game had to go on. Gradually, the crowd's angry shouts died down, their focus shifting back to the match.
As for Harry, he didn't seem particularly upset about losing sight of the Golden Snitch.
Flying back up, he was immediately surrounded by his teammates.
Wood clapped him on the shoulder, looking at him with concern. "You okay? Any injuries?"
"I'm fine," Harry reassured him with a nod.
George, still fuming, growled, "Slytherins are bloody scum. Next time you spot the Snitch, be extra careful. But don't worry—we won't let them pull that stunt again."
Harry hummed in response, though his mind was clearly elsewhere…
Not Everyone in Slytherin Was Celebrating…
While most of Slytherin was cheering and jeering, there were two people who weren't as thrilled—Snape and Malfoy.
Snape had been watching closely when Harry started falling.
He had instinctively reached for his wand, ready to intervene and save him.
But he held back—forced himself not to move.
He couldn't.
Snape and Dumbledore suspected that there were Death Eaters hiding within Hogwarts. Snape's entire cover was built to earn Voldemort's trust. If Voldemort returned, Snape needed to be seen as one of his most loyal followers—someone who wouldn't lift a finger to save Harry Potter.
Still, as soon as Harry safely recovered, Snape's tense expression eased.
His eyes then locked onto Flint, his gaze dark and unreadable.
In his mind, he was already casting a Banishing Charm straight at the Slytherin captain.
Meanwhile, Flint Was Oblivious.
He and his teammates were celebrating, acting as if the entire stadium's angry shouts were actually cheers for them.
A nasty grin stretched across Flint's face.
Then, out of nowhere, a cold shiver ran down his spine.
It felt as if a venomous snake was coiling around his back, its forked tongue flicking against his skin—like it could strike at any moment.
His body stiffened, every muscle tensed.
He didn't dare turn around.
And just as suddenly as it came, the sensation vanished.
It was only then that Flint realized—his entire back was drenched in sweat.
Malfoy's Silence.
Draco should've been celebrating like everyone else—taunting Harry, laughing, shouting.
And yet, he wasn't.
He had opened his mouth, ready to hurl an insult, but… nothing came out.
Even the thought of celebrating felt… wrong.
For some reason, he didn't want to mock Harry right now.
This wasn't how he wanted things to be.
For the first time, Malfoy felt uncertain.
He was confused—but about what, exactly?
He had no idea.
Meanwhile, Cho Chang was sitting in the Ravenclaw stands.
Her heart clenched as she watched Harry, unable to shake off her worry.
"Cho, you're crushing my hand!" a friend suddenly yelped.
Cho snapped out of her thoughts and looked down—in her excitement, she had unknowingly gripped her friend's hand too tightly.
When she let go, there were white imprints where her fingers had been.
"You're really nervous about Harry, huh?" her friend teased with a smirk.
Cho flushed instantly, waving her hands. "N-no, what are you even talking about?"
"Haha, don't worry, you're not the only one who likes him." Her friend chuckled. "But if you decide to go after him, then the rest of us have no chance!"
Cho grinned mischievously and launched a tickle attack, sending the two of them into a playful scuffle.
After that first encounter with Harry, Cho found herself returning to the same spot repeatedly at the same time.
But unfortunately, she never saw him again.
Seated behind her were several Ravenclaw boys.
They all kept their eyes locked on the game, sitting up with an air of seriousness.
But every so often…
One of them would steal a glance at Cho, quickly avert his gaze, and pretend nothing had happened.
A few moments later… another glance.
And so the cycle continued—again and again.
The Game Resumes
Madam Hooch awarded Gryffindor a penalty shot.
Wood took the shot and scored.
A wave of cheers erupted from the Gryffindor stands.
The Slytherins, however, looked far from pleased.
But even in defeat, they refused to show weakness.
Instead, they maintained their signature sneers, glaring at the Gryffindor team with pure malice.
Their gazes carried a mix of threats, warnings, and disdain.
The Game Heats Up
Perhaps due to the earlier foul, the tension on the field skyrocketed.
The match became even more intense, both teams clashing fiercely in the sky.
Figures zipped past each other, weaving and diving through the air.
Jordan's voice boomed over the crowd, announcing each team's score with growing excitement.
But it wasn't just the goals that thrilled the audience.
Every now and then, a player would be hit by a Bludger—sent spinning like a drunken fool through the sky.
Some flipped wildly through the air before finally regaining control, only to immediately throw themselves back into the game.
Higgins' Misjudgment
High above the chaos, Harry and Higgins—the Slytherin Seeker—continued their quiet aerial battle.
Higgins, however, had completely lost respect for Harry.
After all, Harry hadn't even protested when Flint crashed into him earlier.
In Higgins' mind, this was proof that Harry was nothing but a coward.
"Pathetic," he thought, sneering.
"And to think I actually took him seriously at first."
The fact that he had once considered Harry a worthy opponent now filled him with anger.
He felt as though he had been tricked, fooled into believing that Harry might actually be a real challenge.
And that infuriated him.
Now, he had a plan.
If he caught the Snitch, he would fly right up to Harry, hold it up in front of his face, and smirk in triumph.
He would look Harry dead in the eyes and tell him:
"You'll never get to touch the Snitch in your entire life."
Would Harry start crying after that?
Higgins laughed at the thought.
Just imagining it filled him with satisfaction.
Harry's Thoughts on Quidditch Rules
Harry stared at Higgins in confusion, watching as the Slytherin grinned in a disgustingly smug way.
For a moment, Harry had the strong urge to punch that smirk off his face—his expression looked like a wrinkled flower, and it made Harry's fists itch.
But what truly occupied his mind was something more frustrating—the Quidditch rules.
Take Flint's earlier move, for example.
He had deliberately crashed into Harry, yet there had been no real consequences.
Madam Hooch had only scolded him—but Harry knew she wasn't playing favorites.
The problem wasn't her.
It was the rules themselves.
Quidditch had massive loopholes.
Even if a player got hit, crashed, or was severely injured, there were no proper penalties.
Because nowhere in the rulebook did it explicitly forbid such actions.
In fact, this kind of dangerous play was common.
Over the years, players had gotten away with these tactics, and even though referees and fans found them outrageous, nothing ever changed.
Because nobody had ever questioned it.
Nobody stopped to think about why it was allowed.
Nobody considered how to fix it.
It was just "the way things were."
And that, to Harry, was absolutely hilarious.
Author's Notes (Luo Bei's Message) I need more collections! I need more recommendations! Thanks, everyone! (⊙﹏⊙)b
About My Moderator Status
So… I was a temporary moderator, but I completely ran out of experience points yesterday.
Now, I'm thinking of passing the moderator role to book friend 'Nanshan Luoye', because honestly? I like him a lot.
I saw his comments in the book review section—and thank you!
On Recruiting New Readers
Turns out, Nanshan recommended my book in another novel's review section—and it actually worked?!
Now I'm wondering…
Should I start pulling more people in? 😏
A Special Mention About 'Qingfeng Deyin'
A reader accused 'Qingfeng Deyin' of being a bot.
And to that, I say—excellent observation!
Because yes—he totally is!
I literally hired him for 2 cents online.
For the next ten years, he's contractually obligated to say only good things about me.
That's the true power of a paid bot! 🤣
But hey—keep this a secret, okay? 😆
Reader Comments & My Replies
A reader said my writing style is great.
I feel so embarrassed—but thank you! I'll keep doing my best!
To Zhang Weijie:
I saw your comment! And no, I'm not mad—really.
You said:
"The author's writing is clearly not that of a beginner, so why the hell would they do something this stupid?"
Even though your words were harsh, I chose to focus on the positive part—because you basically admitted I'm a good writer!
And for the record? I actually AM a beginner.
But next time, maybe phrase it more calmly? I'll still reply to you even if you don't swear at me.
Lastly, a shoutout to my supportive readers!
Nanshan Luoye, Blue Clothes (布鲁衣), Madman First Step (疯子第一步), Book Friend 1608140711 (Dude, please change your username 😂)
Especially Madman First Step—
You wrote a fantastic comment. Thank you!
Oh, and Blue Clothes—
Who's in your profile picture?
She looks really pretty. 🤔
.
.
.
[Join my P@treon for advanced chapters. Up to 20 chapters ahead available! p@treon.com/c/MrMagnus / Search MrMagnus in P@treon.]
[Thank you for reading. Rate, Review, and Comment on my novel. Send the Power Stones.]