bacchusnovels Chapter 42 Watch Me
Chapter 42 Watch Me
The next morning, the sky was exceptionally clear, and the sunlight gently shone on the earth, but the air was still filled with a chilly cold.
The atmosphere inside the restaurant was lively and extraordinary, with the aroma of grilled sausages filling the air. That enticing smell was like an invisible hand, guiding people to the table.
Everyone sat together, their faces beaming with anticipation and excitement, because there was a highly anticipated Quidditch match today.
Therefore, their discussion did not stray from the sport of Quidditch.
"Will Harry Potter be playing at Gryffindor today?"
"You mean the Seeker in Quidditch, the one who needs someone to hold up the mattress and run alongside him?"
"Where did you hear that rumor? I heard from Barrow the Blood that he's an excellent Quidditch player."
"How good can a first-year student's Quidditch skills be?"
"Let's make a bet. I bet Gryffindor will win this match."
"Then I'll choose Slytherin."
Two Ravenclaw students, unusually, disagreed on a matter and resorted to a no-stakes bet to shut each other up.
By eleven o'clock, it seemed that the entire school's teachers and students had gathered in the stands around the Quidditch pitch.
Many students also brought binoculars. The seats were practically raised halfway up the wall, but it was still sometimes difficult to see the game clearly.
As a Quidditch player in this competition, Harry can arrive at the stadium a little later.
He was all alone, walking slowly toward the players' locker room, each step feeling particularly heavy.
He tried to concentrate, but his mind was a jumble of thoughts, a mixture of anticipation for the upcoming match, a desire for victory, and a fear of defeat.
He didn't know if he was ready or if he could perform at his best under the watchful eyes of so many people.
This uncertainty made him feel more tense and anxious, and the flying broom in his hand seemed to become even heavier.
Harry even felt the grass beneath his feet shaking, his heart was pounding as if it were going to jump out of his chest, and a wave of nausea was rising, making him almost want to find a place to vomit.
He took a deep breath, trying to calm his excited emotions, but the pressure of about to step onto the field almost made him breathless.
"Have some honey lemon black tea."
Suddenly, a hand reached out from the side, holding a paper cup.
Harry took the paper cup and first felt the temperature emanating from it. It was just the right amount of warmth, not too hot to handle, but rather gave him a sense of reassurance.
Then he looked up at the owner of the hand, Professor Sean, whose face was adorned with an encouraging and caring smile.
Harry's tension eased slightly. He nodded gratefully, took a careful sip, and the rich aroma of the black tea and the sweet and sour taste of the lemon burst in his mouth.
The mixed taste seemed to have a magical power, gradually calming his heartbeat and dispelling the nausea.
Every sip of tea seemed to tell him: Relax, take a deep breath, you can do it.
"Thank you, Professor," Harry said gratefully.
"I heard you didn't even have breakfast?" Sean fed Harry another piece of chocolate, and only continued after watching Harry swallow it. "Quidditch is tiring, back in my day..."
"The professor has played Quidditch too?" Harry looked at Sean in surprise upon hearing his words.
What Harry needs most right now is guidance from an experienced mentor.
"Of course..." Sean paused deliberately, building up suspense before saying, "I haven't played it before."
Just kidding, even now Sean doesn't quite understand the rules of Quidditch, how could he possibly play Quidditch?
If he had to choose a ball sport, his first choice would be football.
He's a Leicester City fan.
Sean didn't return to the audience until he escorted the dizzy Harry to the dressing room.
If he remembered correctly, Quirrell was going to make a move on Harry today, which was why he was here today—to have some fun and to improve his relationship with the young witch Hermione.
Ever since he saved Hermione in the women's restroom, Hermione's good points have soared to 8.
If we help Hermione out of a tight spot again today, we might be able to break the 10 mark.
After a short rest, Harry followed Fred and George out of the locker room and into the bustling stadium. Throughout this time, he kept telling himself not to let his knees buckle.
Ms. Huo Qi served as the referee for this match, holding a flying broom and waiting for both teams to assemble in the center of the field.
She specifically instructed that the match be fair and honest, a statement that seemed to be primarily directed at Slytherin captain Marcus Flint.
As they prepared, Harry caught a glimpse of the banner fluttering high above the crowd, its words "Potter Will Win" shining brightly. His heart leaped with joy.
He felt he had gained courage.
"Please hop on your flying brooms."
Harry straddles his Nimbus 2000.
Ms. Fauci blew her silver whistle with all her might.
With a whistle from Ms. Huo Qi, fifteen flying brooms soared into the air, and the competition officially began.
Lee Jordan served as the commentator under Professor McGonagall's supervision, excitedly describing every move on the field.
Gryffindor quickly got into the game, with Angelina Jansen getting the Quaffle and executing a series of fluid moves, from passing to attacking.
However, Slytherin did not back down, with captain Marcus Flint putting on an outstanding performance and regaining possession of the ball several times.
The competition on the field was fierce, with the ball flying everywhere and the batters hitting it with all their might.
Harry, as the Seeker, glides lightly through the air, searching for the thief.
Suddenly, his eyes lit up as he spotted the golden light emanating from the thief.
He excitedly swooped down and engaged in a fierce chase with Slytherin's Seeker, Terrence Higgs.
However, at that moment, an accident occurred.
Harry's flying broom suddenly started shaking uncontrollably, as if trying to throw him off.
He gripped the broom tightly, trying his best to maintain his balance.
The spectators and players on the field seemed oblivious to this unusual situation, and the game continued.
Harry's flying broomstick became increasingly out of control, darting left and right through the air.
He was terrified, but he couldn't get the broom back to normal.
Meanwhile, Slytherin scored, and the crowd cheered.
Hagrid saw Harry's situation through his binoculars and muttered something under his breath.
He knew Harry's abilities and didn't believe Harry would be unable to control his flying broom.
However, the reality is that Harry's situation is precarious.
Suddenly, everyone in the stands pointed upwards at Harry.
His flying broomstick began to tumble and roll incessantly, and Harry could barely keep from falling.
Suddenly, the flying broomstick began to twist wildly again, throwing Harry off.
He is now dangling in mid-air, holding the broom handle with only one hand.
"Was there something wrong with the broom when Flint rammed into him?" Seamus whispered.
“Impossible,” Hagrid said, his voice trembling slightly. “Nothing can interfere with a flying broomstick except powerful dark magic—a child couldn’t possibly cast such a spell on Nimbus 2000.”
Upon hearing this, Hermione grabbed Hagrid's binoculars. Instead of looking up at Harry, she anxiously peered into the crowd.
"What are you doing?" Ron groaned, his face ashen.
"I knew it," Hermione said breathlessly. "It's Snape—look."
Ron grabbed the binoculars. Snape stood in the middle of the stands opposite them. His eyes were fixed on Harry, and he muttered something silently to himself.
"He's up to no good—he's casting a curse on the flying broomstick," Hermione said.
"What do we do?"
"Watch me."