bacchusnovels Chapter 172 Hermione, Unmoved
Chapter 172 Hermione, Unmoved
Chapter 172 Hermione, Unmoving
The following day, as dawn broke and the sky gradually turned a gentle blue-purple, an unusual atmosphere of anticipation permeated the Hogwarts campus.
Today, the Gryffindor Quidditch team will face the Hufflepuff Quidditch team. This is not just an ordinary match, but a crucial battle for Gryffindor's chance to win the Quidditch Cup this semester.
The weather was clear and cloudless, with the sun shining so brightly it seemed to have been specially chosen for this match, making the entire Quidditch stadium sparkle.
"It's the perfect weather for a Quidditch match!" Wood exclaimed enthusiastically at the Gryffindor table.
He held a large ladle in his hand, stirring it continuously in a large pot filled with scrambled eggs. Then he added a lot of golden scrambled eggs to each team member's plate, as if he wanted to use this abundant food to inject more strength and courage into them.
"Harry," Wood said, looking specifically at Harry sitting beside him, "cheer up. You need to eat a proper breakfast. Today is our big day, and we can't give Hufflepuff any chance."
"A good breakfast is half the battle!" Wood emphasized, adding a few more spoonfuls of scrambled eggs to Harry's plate as he spoke.
The golden scrambled eggs gradually piled up into a small mountain on Harry's plate, so tall that they almost blocked his view.
Harry, as the youngest Seeker in nearly a century, has become the soul of the Gryffindor Quidditch team after more than a year of Quidditch practice.
Whenever the game reached a critical moment, Harry's calm judgment and excellent flying skills always led the team to turn the tide and escape danger.
Wood knew this well, so he paid special attention to Harry's condition, hoping he could be in top form for today's match.
Sometimes, he even thought to himself that a Quidditch match could not be without him, but it absolutely could not be without Harry.
He's in sixth grade this year. Time flies, and in the blink of an eye, more than half of his time at Hogwarts has passed.
All told, I only have one year left to stay in school.
In his seventh year, he will face the NEWT exam, which will determine his future path. It is an important step for him to enter the adult wizarding world, and a challenge that he must give his all to.
Thinking of this, he couldn't help but feel a little downcast.
It's estimated that by the time he reaches seventh grade, he won't have much time left to focus on Quidditch.
Since he joined the Quidditch team, they have never won the Quidditch Cup.
This year is the most promising year.
He didn't want to leave any regrets in his life.
Moreover, if he wins the Quidditch Cup once, he can join his dream professional Quidditch team after graduation by virtue of being the captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team.
Therefore, both for public and private reasons, he must do his utmost.
Thinking of this, Wood poured Harry a steaming cup of milk from the pot beside him, then looked at him with eager eyes that made Harry feel uneasy.
Harry had no doubt how angry Wood would be if he messed up the match.
He wasn't afraid of anger... but he was mainly afraid of Wood showing a sad or disappointed expression.
For the kind-hearted man, that was a decisive blow—he knew how important this match was to Wood.
Moreover, he didn't want all his efforts this semester to go to waste.
To prepare for the competition, Wood had them train every evening after dinner for months. Apart from training and doing his homework, he had almost no time for anything else.
So after sacrificing so much entertainment and rest time, it would be unreasonable not to win a championship.
Harry, with great difficulty, finished eating Wood's "gift."
After finishing their meal, he left the bustling Great Hall with Ron and Hermione. The three of them walked through the crowd toward their dormitory.
Harry was packing his equipment, making final preparations for the upcoming Quidditch match.
At this moment, his already chaotic mind was burdened with an even heavier worry, as if an invisible boulder was pressing on his chest, making it hard for him to breathe.
Just as he stepped onto the marble staircase leading to his dormitory, that cold, malevolent voice rang in his ears again: "This time, I'm going to kill someone—let me tear—let me rip—." The voice was like a call from hell, making Harry's heart clench. He stopped and stared ahead, his face pale.
He shouted, and Ron and Hermione jumped away from him in fright at the sudden shout.
"That voice!" Harry gasped, his eyes wide with fear and confusion. "I heard it again—did you hear it? That chilling, malevolent voice, it's back again!"
Ron shook his head, his eyes wide open, staring blankly at Harry, clearly having heard nothing.
Hermione suddenly slapped her forehead as a thought flashed through her mind.
"Harry—I suddenly realized something! I have to go to the library! I must find the source of that sound and figure out what it is!"
She finished speaking hastily and then turned and ran upstairs.
"What did she understand?" Harry asked Ron in a panic, still looking around, trying to figure out where the voice was coming from, but there was only silence and nothing around him.
"I don't know," Ron said, shaking his head, his face filled with confusion and worry. "Hermione always has her own ideas."
"But why would she go to the library?" Harry asked, still puzzled.
“That’s just how Hermione is,” Ron said, shrugging. “Whenever she has a question or something she doesn’t understand, she goes to the library to find the answer. Maybe she can find a clue about that voice there.”
Harry stood there hesitantly, filled with confusion and curiosity, longing to catch that mysterious and captivating voice again.
The voice seemed to contain some unknown calling, which he couldn't shake off.
However, his surroundings were already bustling with activity as people poured out of the auditorium, their laughter and chatter mingling as they excitedly discussed the upcoming match and prepared to pass through the front door to the Quidditch pitch.
"You'd better hurry," Ron's anxious voice rang in Harry's ears, "It's almost ten o'clock and the match is about to start."
Awakened by Ron's words, Harry snapped back to reality. He strode toward the Gryffindor Tower, still preoccupied with the mysterious voice, but he knew he had a more important task at hand—participating in the Quidditch match.
He picked up his Nimbus 2000 flying broom and joined the bustling crowd that passed through the venue.
Despite being surrounded by people, Harry's thoughts seemed to linger in every corner of the castle, as he tried to find traces of that voice.
As he walked into the locker room and changed into the bright red Quidditch robe, the only consolation he felt was that at least now everyone was gathered on the field watching the game, and no one would notice his strange behavior.
He tried to focus on the upcoming match, but the voice lingered in his mind like a ghost, refusing to leave.
As the team members walked out of the locker room, they were greeted by deafening cheers.
Harry and his teammates rode this wave of passion onto the field.
Oliver Wood had already taken to the air, warming up by flying around the goalposts.
Meanwhile, on the other side, the Hufflepuff team members, dressed in pale yellow jerseys, were gathered together, making the most of the last minute to discuss tactics, their faces also filled with the desire for victory.
Ms. Hooch, the referee of this Quidditch match, solemnly took the Golden Snitch, the game's weapon, from her exquisite pocket.
With a gentle wave of her arm, the Golden Snitch seemed to come alive, soaring into the air and tracing a dazzling arc. After the match ball was checked and found to be correct, the atmosphere on the field instantly became tense, and all the spectators focused their attention on the center of the field, waiting for the match to begin.
Just as Harry was about to mount his flying broomstick and fully immerse himself in this crucial match, Professor McGonagall suddenly ran across the field.
She was holding a huge purple microphone tightly in her hand, and her face had a very serious expression.
Harry's heart sank like a stone, and an ominous premonition washed over him.
"The match has been cancelled." Professor McGonagall's voice, transmitted clearly through the microphone, echoed throughout the crowded stands.
These words were like a boulder thrown into a calm lake, instantly creating ripples, and a burst of discontented boos and shouts erupted from the crowd.
Wood looked particularly dejected. Before he even got off his flying broom, he landed directly on the ground out of anxiety and resentment, and then ran towards Professor McGonagall without a second thought.
His eyes were filled with pleading and confusion; he hoped the professor could give him a reasonable explanation.
"But, Professor!" he cried anxiously, "We must compete—in the Quidditch Cup—in Gryffindor—..."
However, Professor McGonagall ignored him and continued speaking into the microphone: "All students must immediately return to their respective college's common room, where the college's administrators will explain the situation in detail. Please leave as soon as possible!"
After she finished speaking, she gently put down the microphone, looked through the crowd, found Harry, and gestured for him to come over.
Her eyes held an indescribable depth, as if something important was about to happen.
"Potter, I think you'd better come with me—."
Professor McGonagall's voice was somewhat low, which puzzled Harry. Why was she suspecting him this time?
Just as Harry was wondering what was going on, Ron pushed his way out of the complaining crowd and looked anxiously at Harry and Professor McGonagall.
Just as Professor McGonagall and Harry began their walk toward the castle, Ron quickened his pace and ran toward them.
To Harry's surprise, Professor McGonagall did not object to Ron joining as she usually did when she saw him coming.
Instead, she nodded slightly, seemingly unsurprised by Ron's appearance.
"Well, maybe you'd better come too, Weasley," Professor McGonagall said, her tone carrying a hint of gentleness.
Harry became even more curious: what had happened to cause such a drastic change in Professor McGonagall's attitude?
The students crowded around them, some grumbling about the cancellation of the competition, while others looked very nervous, as if they had a premonition that something ominous was about to happen.
Harry and Ron followed closely behind Professor McGonagall, weaving through the bustling crowd, back to the school.
They climbed the marble staircase, but this time they were not led to any professor's office as usual.
"You may be shocked," Professor McGonagall said slowly in an unusually gentle voice as they approached the hospital, her tone seemingly filled with deep worry and sorrow, "there has been another attack—and this time it's a double attack."
Harry's heart sank. Countless thoughts flashed through his mind, but each one was like a phantom in the fog, preventing him from grasping any substantial clues.
Professor McGonagall opened the door, and Harry and Ron followed her inside.
The hospital was filled with a faint smell of disinfectant, and there seemed to be an indescribable tension in the air.
Ms. Pomfrey was bending down to examine a student with long, braided hair.
Harry recognized her immediately: Susan Bornes, the Hufflepuff witch from his class.
(Although Susan Bornes comes from the Bornes family, her aunt is the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement,
But she is not pureblood.
Her face was as pale as paper, and her tightly closed eyes revealed endless pain and fear.
On the bed next to her lay Hermione! "Hermione!" Ron exclaimed, his voice filled with disbelief and deep worry.
Hermione lay there, motionless, as if time had frozen at that moment.
Her eyes were wide open, yet they appeared so dull and empty, as if all life and vitality had been instantly drained from her.
"They were found near the library," Professor McGonagall's voice was deep and forceful, each word striking Harry and Ron like a hammer blow. "I doubt either of you can explain this. It was found on the floor next to them—."
As she spoke, Professor McGonagall held up a small, round mirror.
Harry and Ron shook their heads, both staring intently at Hermione.
"I'll escort you back to the Gryffindor Tower," Professor McGonagall said somberly. "Anyway, I'm going to speak to the students."
At this critical moment, Sean rushed over. Surprisingly, although he looked quite flustered, a fleeting, enigmatic smile appeared in his eyes.
What exactly happened inside Hogwarts Castle?
Let's rewind to half an hour ago...