bacchusnovels Chapter 352 Qiu Zhang's Cold
Chapter 352 Qiu Zhang's Cold
Chapter 352 Qiu Zhang's Cold
"How are you?"
Sean asked in a low voice, looking at Cho Chang with concern; her face still had a blush of coldness on it.
"fine."
Qiu Zhang nodded, crossing his arms over his chest in an attempt to block out the chill from the cold wind, but he couldn't help but shiver again.
Upon seeing this, Sean immediately took off his robe and draped it over her.
"Is this better?"
"Hmm, much better."
Qiu Zhang smiled slightly, but the chill still made her voice tremble slightly.
Sean frowned, looking at her slightly pale lips, and said with a hint of worry.
"How about I take you to see Mrs. Pomfrey and have her examine you?"
"Really, it's not necessary, I'm fine—"
Qiu Zhang shook his head slightly, trying to force a reassuring smile.
"But your complexion doesn't look like that at all," Sean insisted. "Mrs. Pomfrey will find a way to warm you up, just to put my mind at ease, okay?"
Qiu Zhang hesitated for a moment, then finally nodded and said softly, "Okay, thank you, Professor."
The two walked side by side toward the infirmary.
Throughout the journey, Sean kept his robe tightly wrapped around her to ensure she was no longer exposed to the cold wind.
Upon arriving at the infirmary, Sean gently knocked on the door. A moment later, Mrs. Pomfrey appeared at the door, looking at the scene before her with slight surprise.
"Good heavens, Cho Chang, what happened to you?" Madam Pomfrey immediately noticed her wet clothes, and a hint of worry appeared in her expression.
"She accidentally fell into the lake and caught a chill," Sean explained, a hint of apology in his eyes. "Could you help look after her?"
"Of course, come in, sit down." Madam Pomfrey immediately helped Cho Chang to the bedside, skillfully took out several bottles of medicine and a blanket, and carefully wrapped Cho Chang up.
Sean stood aside, watching Mrs. Pomfrey's busy figure, and felt a little more at ease.
A moment later, Madam Pomfrey gave Cho Chang some warming medicine and gently comforted him, "Alright, drink this, you'll warm up soon."
Qiu Zhang suddenly fell ill; a fierce cold struck her like a winter storm, mercilessly attacking her.
Her head was spinning, her throat felt dry as if it had been scalded, and the burning and chilling sensations in her nostrils made her feel extremely uncomfortable.
However, the pain deep in her heart seemed more unbearable than the physical pain.
It was less of a cold and more of a mental illness, heavy and oppressive, lingering in her mind, making her restless and unable to eat or sleep. Her second attempt to confess to Sean and make her demands ended in failure.
This emotional distress, coupled with a severe cold, ultimately brought her to her knees.
Qiu Zhang curled up on the bed in the infirmary, wrapped in a thick blanket, his eyes vacant and weary.
The image of Sean kept appearing in her mind, and the complex emotions of wanting to be honest but being unable to express them weighed heavily on her heart like a heavy shadow.
Mrs. Pomfrey would come over from time to time to check on her, change her wet towels, and tell her to drink more medicine.
Cho Chang drifted off to sleep for a while under the influence of the medicine. When she woke up, she found a group of familiar figures in the infirmary: her Ravenclaw Quidditch teammates were gathered around her bed.
"Qiu Zhang, we heard you're sick, we're all very worried about you!" one of the teammates said in a low voice, his eyes full of concern.
"Captain, don't worry, even if you can't participate this time, we will do our best." Another teammate said with a smile, trying to comfort her.
Qiu Zhang smiled weakly, his voice slightly hoarse, "I'm sorry, I'm afraid I can't compete with you."
"Don't be silly, your health is the most important thing!" the teammates comforted him in unison.
Someone gently patted her on the shoulder, someone handed her a small bouquet of flowers, and someone even brought her favorite chocolate frog.
However, such heartwarming scenes are usually accompanied by tragic outcomes.
The Quidditch match between Ravenclaw and Slytherin has ended, and the result was as expected—Ravenclaw lost decisively.
Some were dejected, while others were overjoyed.
Cho Chang was naturally devastated by the defeat, while Malfoy wore a smug smile—Harry couldn't help but feel secretly pleased.
"This is great news for Gryffindor," Wood said confidently, victory seemingly within reach. "If we also beat Ravenclaw, we'll jump to second place!"
To achieve this goal, Wood decided to increase the intensity of his training, raising the frequency to five times a week.
This left Harry with almost no time to catch his breath.
In addition, Sean's training to fend off Dementors—which was even more physically demanding than five Quidditch sessions—left him with only one night a week to finish his homework.
This made him feel a lot of pressure.
The weather at Hogwarts remained cold and biting; the winter chill had long since seeped into the castle's stone walls, stubbornly refusing to dissipate.
January quietly passed, and February took its place without a sound, but the chill showed no signs of abating.
The sky is almost always covered by thick clouds, not letting in a single ray of sunlight. It is gray and hazy, like a heavy blanket pressing down on Hogwarts. Occasionally, a few weak rays of sunlight will shine through the gaps in the clouds, carrying a cold golden light that makes the white snow look like frozen pieces of silver, but this warmth is always fleeting.
As the match against Ravenclaw drew closer, Harry's Dementor training sessions were not going as smoothly as he had hoped.
After several lessons, whenever the Dementors that Boggart transformed into approached him, although he could conjure a blurry silver-white shadow, his Patronus was too weak to drive the Dementors away.
It just hung there like a semi-transparent cloud.
Harry exhausted all his energy trying to prevent it from disappearing.
He was angry with himself and felt guilty for secretly longing to hear his parents' voices again.
"It's okay, you've done a great job," Sean said with a smile. "Summoning a Guardian takes time and practice. The important thing is that you keep improving."
Harry lowered his eyes, hesitated for a moment, and then said softly, "But I—I always unconsciously hope to hear their voices again, and doing so makes me feel weak."
Sean patted him on the shoulder, comforting him, "Harry, this doesn't mean weakness. It's only natural to want to connect with your parents."
The guardian spirit is born from these emotions. The love and attachment in your heart will become the source of the guardian spirit's power, not your weakness.
Harry felt comforted by Sean's words, and his mood improved considerably during training the next day.
"Harry, I just found out who Ravenclaw's Seeker is." Wood approached Harry mysteriously. "It's Cho Chang."
"She's a fourth-grader, and she played really well—actually, I kind of wish she couldn't compete; her cold is quite bad," Wood said, frowning, clearly unhappy with Cho Chang's recovery.
He then added, "And she was riding a fire crossbow—"
As he spoke, he couldn't help but glance at Harry's Firebolt with a fanatical adoration. "Alright, everyone, let's begin!"
Harry straddled his firebolt and leaped off the ground.
The feeling was even more wonderful than he had imagined.
The fire bolts reacted so quickly, as if they could read his mind, rather than simply being under his control.
It swept across the field like lightning, its speed so great that the view from the stands instantly turned into a blur of green and gray.
He suddenly spun sharply, startling Aria Spinnett so much she couldn't help but scream. Then he executed a perfect dive, his toes barely touching the grassy ground, before rapidly climbing—thirty feet, forty feet, fifty feet—
One 1
"Harry, I've let the Snitch out!" Wood shouted.
Harry quickly turned and rushed towards the direction from which the ball had come, heading straight for the goalpost.
He easily overtook the ball, his eyes fixed on the thief who was rushing out from behind Wood.
In less than ten seconds, he had it firmly in his hand.
The team members couldn't help but cheer with joy.
Harry released the Snitch again, letting it fly around for a while before it nimbly weaved among his teammates and quickly gave chase.
He noticed the thief was circling around Katie Bell's knees, so he easily bypassed her and caught the thief firmly in his hand again.
This was undoubtedly their best training session yet.
Harry's skillful coordination with the Firebolt greatly inspired the team, and everyone performed at their best, almost flawlessly.
When everyone landed back on the ground, Wood, unusually, offered no criticism and even showed a satisfied smile.
In George Weasley's words, this was truly unprecedented. "I don't think anything can stop us in the next match!" Wood said confidently. "Unless—Harry, you've solved the Dementor problem, haven't you?"
"It's resolved." Harry nodded, his mind flashing back to his weakened Patronus, secretly hoping it could become stronger.
"The Dementors won't appear again, Oliver, or Dumbledore would be furious," Fred said confidently, his tone full of optimism.
"Well, I hope so." Wood nodded. "Anyway—everyone did a good job today. Let's go back to the tower, get some sleep, and recharge—" He waved to the team with a smile.
"I'll stay a little longer; Ron wants to try out the Firebolt," Harry said to Wood.
The other team members gradually headed towards the locker room, while Harry strode towards the stands, where he ran into an excited Ron.
Ron climbed over the railing of the stands and ran over impatiently, his face full of anticipation and joy.
In the stands, Mrs. Hooch had unknowingly fallen asleep.
"Here you go." Harry smiled and handed the Firebolt to Ron.
Ron took the broom, his face beaming with undisguised elation.
He eagerly mounted the fire crossbow, pushed off the ground with a thud, and shot into the darkening sky like a nimble silver line slicing through the night.
Harry stood at the edge of the pitch, smiling as he watched Ron fly through the air. As night deepened, everything around him seemed exceptionally quiet.
Just then, Madam Hooch suddenly awoke, groggily sitting up. Seeing Harry and Ron still on the field, she immediately stood up, frowning and scolding, "Why didn't you wake me? Now hurry back to the castle, it's getting late!"
"Excuse me, Professor."
Harry slung the Firebolt over his shoulder and walked out of the gradually darkening stadium with Ron, excitedly discussing the Firebolt's outstanding performance in hushed tones.
The two talked about its amazing acceleration and precise turning skills, and every word they said was filled with admiration for this top-notch flying broom.
Just as they were engrossed in their conversation, Harry suddenly glanced at the bushes to his left. The sight before him made him hold his breath—in the dense shadows, a pair of eyes were silently watching them, their cold light gleaming in the dim light.
Harry stopped abruptly, his heart pounding.
"What's wrong?" Ron asked alertly, then followed Harry's gaze.
Harry pointed slightly. Ron immediately drew his wand and whispered, "Flash!"
A gentle light suddenly shone from the tip of the wand, spilling onto the grass and illuminating the roots of a large tree not far away, outlining the blurry contours of its branches and leaves.
Among the newly sprouted branches, Crook Mountain crouched prominently, its golden eyes gleaming warily in the night, silently watching them.
"Crooked Mountain!" Ron exclaimed in a low voice, a complex emotion flashing through his mind.
Ron has felt guilty ever since he misunderstood Crookshank last time.
Although he never directly apologized to Hermione, he felt a vague unease about his past prejudices and accusations.
However, Hermione didn't seem to care—or rather, she was too busy with her heavy coursework and the upcoming "test" to pay attention to such trivial matters.
Ron buried this guilt deep in his heart, finding it difficult to express it.
Harry noticed Ron's subtle emotions, patted him on the shoulder, and said in a comforting tone, "It's just wandering around here, maybe it's just here to have some fun."
Ron gave a wry smile, gazing at Crook Mountain in the grass, and muttered softly, "Maybe. I just wonder why it's staring at us."
Crook Mountain remained unmoved, like some mysterious night watchman, quietly observing them, its golden eyes gleaming with a thoughtful light.
Just then, Crookshan suddenly leaped off the tree roots, gracefully crossed the grassland, and disappeared into the depths of the night.
Its movements were light and silent, like a ghost wandering through the night at Hogwarts.
"See?" Harry laughed. "It doesn't care about us at all. It's just a cat that loves to explore."
Ron shook his head helplessly, a slight smile playing on his lips. "Maybe. Perhaps one day I should really have a serious talk with Hermione and settle this old score."
The two smiled at each other and walked back to the castle side by side. Harry carried the Firebolt, while Ron muttered about Crookshanks' strange behavior.
Meanwhile, a secret conversation was taking place in the Myrtle's bathroom on the second floor of the castle.