bacchusnovels Chapter 367 Unlucky Harry
Chapter 367 Unlucky Harry
Chapter 367 Unlucky Harry
Sean and Professor McGonagall stood quietly in the doorway, smiling as they watched the celebratory scene unfold in the common room.
Cheers and laughter rose and fell among the students, and everyone in Gryffindor was infected by the joy of victory.
Professor McGonagall smiled and couldn't help but gently pat Sean on the shoulder.
"Look at Phillips," Professor McGonagall's voice rang with undisguised pride, "this is the spirit of Gryffindor: unity, courage, perseverance, and an indomitable will. These boys were fantastic today—especially Potter, he's a true Seeker genius."
Sean smiled and nodded, casually agreeing, "It's truly inspiring, Professor. I've never seen students so united. Harry and his friends not only won the game, but they also earned everyone's respect."
Professor McGonagall straightened her posture proudly, her gaze sweeping over the crowd and settling on Harry, who was surrounded by everyone: "Potter and his team have brought glory to the entire house. I knew they were capable of winning this trophy. This past year, they have not only made continuous progress in Quidditch, but they have also shown us all what the power of Gryffindor truly is."
[Didn't everyone witness the power of the Firebolt? Maybe... after this competition, the Firebolt will receive some more orders.]
Sean suppressed this strange thought and smiled wryly, saying, "Perhaps this match is just a small step towards their future. Who knows, maybe one of them will become an outstanding Quidditch professional someday."
A moment later, Professor McGonagall left the common room door satisfied.
So Sean was left alone, silently watching Harry.
Harry felt a burning gaze upon him, a situation that seemed quite common tonight, but what wasn't common was that the word "burning" used to describe that gaze was subtly shifting from an adjective to a verb.
He searched around and finally his eyes met Sean's in the air.
Sean waved gently, signaling Harry to come over.
Harry noticed Professor Phillips's gesture, politely extricated himself from the hugs and congratulations of his teammates, walked to the door, and asked with a hint of doubt.
"Professor, you wanted to see me?"
Sean nodded and said in a low voice, "Harry, tonight's celebration is great, but I think we can make it even more special."
"I just contacted the little elves in the kitchen and want to prepare some special snacks and drinks that I brought from the Dragon Kingdom for everyone to enjoy."
"Could you go to the kitchen and bring back some desserts and butterbeer?"
Harry nodded in agreement, a smile spreading across his face. "Of course, Professor, it would be my pleasure."
"Great." Sean nodded in satisfaction and added in a low voice, "And tell the elves to add more Gryffindor red and gold decorations; they're really hungry tonight."
Harry smiled and replied, "Understood, Professor!" Then he turned and left the common room, heading towards the Hogwarts kitchen.
The corridor of the common room was unusually quiet at night, a stark contrast to the laughter and chatter inside.
Harry walked down the quiet corridor in the night, surrounded by silence, with only the sound of his footsteps echoing in the empty castle.
However, just as he turned a corner, he suddenly slipped and fell heavily to the ground.
He paused for a moment, then stood up, rubbed his sore arm, and muttered to himself, "What bad luck—I'd better be careful."
He continued walking, but before he had taken a few steps, he tripped and fell to the ground again. This time, his forehead hit the stone floor, and the pain made him see stars. He reached up and touched it, feeling a dampness—his forehead had been cut open and was bleeding.
"What's going on—" Harry muttered, glancing around uneasily, a sense of unease creeping into his mind, "My luck is absolutely terrible today, how could I keep falling down?"
He shook his head, stood up, and continued walking toward the kitchen, completely unaware that in the shadows not far away, Sean was quietly raising his wand and gently waving it toward Harry.
The next second, Harry's foot slipped again for no apparent reason, and he fell to the ground with a thud, as if he had been pushed by an invisible force.
"This is absolutely ridiculous!" Harry couldn't help but complain, rubbing his sore knee and sitting on the ground panting. "Did I fall under some kind of bad luck curse?"
Sean smiled slightly in the distance, slowly lowering his wand. Sirius Black, receiving the signal, quickly walked out from around the corner of the corridor.
With Filch's usual stern expression, he glared at Harry lying on the ground, his tone laced with sarcasm: "Potter, what happened to you? Looks like you've had a bad fall."
Harry stood up awkwardly, trying his best to appear nonchalant.
"It's nothing, Mr. Filch was just a little careless." He wiped the blood from his forehead with his sleeve, clearly not wanting to say more, and tried to walk around Filch towards the kitchen.
Sirius Black immediately blocked his way, saying coldly, "No, Potter. You can't go any further. Your forehead is bleeding; you need to let Madam Pomfrey take care of it."
"The infirmary?" Harry paused, then immediately shook his head. "No need, Mr. Filch. It's really just a minor scrape. I'm in a hurry to get some snacks from the kitchen so I can go back and celebrate with everyone."
"Celebrate?" Sirius scoffed, a hint of impatience on his face. "What's there to celebrate looking like this? You might as well go straight to the infirmary and avoid making the common room dirty again." With that, he grabbed Harry's arm without another word and began dragging him toward the infirmary.
"Mr. Filch, really, it's alright, I'm fine!" Harry said, struggling, his face full of reluctance. "I'm just going to the kitchen to get something done, everyone's waiting for me!"
Filch's face showed genuine concern.
For a fleeting moment, Harry felt that the other person genuinely cared about his health—of course, Harry knew that the malicious Filch simply wanted to ruin his beautiful night.
"Stop talking nonsense. This wound of yours is no joke. If you don't go to the infirmary, you'll bleed too much and cause serious trouble." Sirius Black gripped Harry's arm tightly, ignoring his protests, and continued to half-drag and half-push him toward the infirmary.
Harry tried to break free, but for some reason, Filch, who looked skinny, was actually very strong.
After struggling for a long time, all he managed to do was leave a few red marks on his wrists.
Helpless, Harry could only be dragged along by Filch, filled with frustration.
He muttered to himself about his bad luck that day, regretting that he had missed the celebration, while Filch wore a gloating expression, seemingly quite proud of his little bit of "power," as if personally "escorting" Harry to the infirmary was something to be extremely proud of.
But in reality... it was quite the opposite of what Harry thought—"schadenfreude."
Sirius's happiness stemmed solely from being able to get so close to his godson.
And so, Sirius dragged Harry all the way to the door of the infirmary.
He pushed the door open, practically "escorting" Harry inside. Madam Pomfrey was about to turn off the lights and rest when she saw blood seeping from Harry's forehead. She immediately frowned and gave Filch a reproachful look.
"Mr. Filch, what's going on?" Mrs. Pomfrey asked, her eyes revealing obvious displeasure.
"I just happened to be passing by," Sirius said innocently, "and found Potter all bruised and battered in the hallway, with a scraped forehead. I thought I'd take him to the infirmary first, to prevent the bleeding from getting worse."
Harry quickly explained, "Mrs. Pomfrey, I just tripped and fell, it's nothing serious. I can..."
"Of course you can't!" Mrs. Pomfrey interrupted him, pulling over a chair for him to sit down and carefully examining his forehead. "The wound on your head is quite large; it will get infected if left untreated. Fortunately, Mr. Filch brought you here."
Sirius, hearing Madam Pomfrey's praise, straightened his back slightly and stood aside with a hint of smugness.
Harry sat there helplessly, watching as Madam Pomfrey busily tended to his wounds.
Madam Pomfrey took out some medicine, gently wiped Harry's wound with a cotton ball, then carefully applied anti-inflammatory ointment, and finally bandaged it with a small piece of gauze.
"Okay, remember to come back tomorrow for your dressing change," she instructed. "Don't get it wet tonight, and don't do any strenuous exercise, okay?"
Madam Pomfrey had just finished treating Harry's wounds and was preparing to send him home when Sirius Black coughed lightly, his expression serious, and suggested, "Madam Pomfrey, I think it would be best for Potter to stay here tonight. After all, he fell quite hard, and who knows if he's injured anywhere else? Perhaps we should give him a full check-up, just in case."
Harry's eyes widened as he looked at Filch in surprise, and he couldn't help but protest, "I'm really fine, Mr. Filch! I just bumped my head, there's no need for me to stay here overnight."
Filch remained unmoved and continued earnestly, "Mrs. Pomfrey, I'm just worried that he might run into some kind of accident tonight. They're celebrating in Gryffindor tonight, and it would be troublesome if he accidentally bumped into something."
Mrs. Pomfrey frowned, carefully considering Filch's suggestion.
She turned to look at Harry, hesitated for a moment, and said, "Filch has a point, Harry. Perhaps you should rest here tonight and go back tomorrow morning after confirming that your wound is alright."
Harry was frantic and quickly shook his head, saying, "No, Mrs. Pomfrey, I'm fine! I really just bumped my head. Everyone's waiting for me in the common room, and I... I want to go and celebrate with them."
Madam Pomfrey seemed somewhat hesitant about Harry's request, but Filch seized the opportunity to add, "He fell so badly, we can't be careless. Madam Pomfrey, I think you should take full responsibility."
Harry was frantic and quickly shook his head, saying, "No, Mrs. Pomfrey, I'm fine! I really just bumped my head. Everyone's waiting for me in the common room, and I—I want to go and celebrate with them."
Just as Harry was eagerly asking Madam Pomfrey to let him leave the infirmary, a cabinet next to him suddenly creaked and then tilted forward, crashing down on Harry's foot without warning.
"Ouch!" Harry cried out in pain as a sharp pain shot through his foot.
His face turned deathly pale instantly, and he couldn't help but grab the chair next to him to steady himself.
Madam Pomfrey immediately exclaimed, "Good heavens, Potter, are you alright?" She rushed over, put her arm around Harry's shoulder, and anxiously examined his injured foot.
Sirius stood to the side, wanting to laugh but suppressing it at Harry's pained expression. He said in a serious tone, "See, Mrs. Pomfrey? I told you, this boy isn't having much luck today. It's safer to let him rest here."
Madam Pomfrey frowned and said in a serious tone, "There's no room for negotiation now, Harry. You have to stay. I need to make sure your foot isn't broken."
Harry wanted to argue, but the sharp pain in his foot made him unable to stand, and he was too hurt to speak.
Left with no other choice, he sat back down in his chair, a tearful expression on his face.
"Okay—" Harry said in a low voice, his tone full of disappointment.
He was filled with frustration. He had been looking forward to going back and celebrating with everyone, but one misfortune after another had trapped him in the infirmary.
Madame Pomfrey carefully examined his foot, then gently cast a healing spell to ease his pain.
She instructed, "You will rest here tonight. I will have Mr. Filch inform your classmates that you are alright."
We'll do a thorough check tomorrow morning to make sure there are no problems before we leave.
Sirius snorted coldly from the side, seemingly quite satisfied with the arrangement.
He ruffled Harry's hair roughly. "You're staying here tonight."
After saying that, he turned and walked out of the infirmary, gently closing the door behind him, leaving Harry under Madam Pomfrey's care.
Outside, Sean was standing in the shade under the tree, waiting to see him.
Sirius Black cautiously looked around, and after confirming that no one else was around, he reached into his pocket, pulled out a small lock of Harry's hair, and quietly handed it to Sean, asking in a low voice, "Got the hair? What else do you need me to do? Do you need me tonight...?"
Sean took Harry's hair, carefully placed it in a small bottle, nodded in satisfaction, and said softly, "No need, tonight's arrangements are already quite good. You just need to keep a close eye on him in the infirmary to make sure he doesn't sneak out. I'm afraid he might be tempted to sneak back to continue celebrating. After all, you know your godson's situation—"