The next day, Saturday, the first match of the Quidditch season: Gryffindor versus Slytherin.
It could only be said that enemies were bound to meet. This match had captured the attention of nearly everyone from both houses.
The entire school was shrouded in a gray, somber cold tone, with the wind howling and a white rim covering the edges of the Black Lake.
"It's freezing," Hector said, rubbing his hands.
"When is it finally going to snow?" Charlie sighed helplessly. It was already November, and the weather was unbearably cold, with ice condensing everywhere.
But the snow still hadn't come.
"Stop looking and eat breakfast first," Anthony called to the two standing in the corridor outside the Great Hall.
Inside the Great Hall, breakfast time.
Harry walked over surrounded by a crowd. Many Gryffindor students greeted him upon seeing him.
His eyelids looked heavy, as if he hadn't slept well. He seemed completely flustered, his hand clutching his broomstick tightly.
"Charlie, I brought the stuff," Harry said as he approached, first pulling out an envelope from his pocket.
"OK." Charlie gave him a thumbs-up gesture, then asked, "What's with you looking like that?"
Harry glanced at his friends on either side. How could he admit that he was so nervous last night that he hadn't slept a wink?
Even in his dreams, he kept thinking about whether he'd fall off, or if a Bludger would break his arm or something.
He shook his head without speaking.
Mealtime arrived, and the people around Harry gradually dispersed.
Charlie didn't press further, just quietly handed him something.
"This might make you feel better."
The time reached eleven o'clock, and it seemed like the entire school's staff and students had gathered at the Quidditch pitch, which was a bit farther from the castle on the grounds.
On weekends, you could often see students training there.
Of course, if a house team wanted to practice new tactics, they wouldn't do it here.
In the stands, Hermione and Ron were holding a bedsheet with "Potter Must Win" written on it.
Charlie and the other two sat one row in front of them.
On the other side, the players' rest areas were two tents: the red one where all the Gryffindor players had changed into red uniforms.
Wood was a tall, sturdy guy with a neat crew cut, looking sunny and cheerful.
He coughed twice, clearing his throat, which also quieted the tent. He spoke: "Alright, lads."
A girl with long golden hair added: "And ladies."
"And ladies," Wood agreed. "It's time."
"The big moment," Fred Weasley said.
"The one we've all been waiting for," George said.
Fred smiled at Harry. "We know his speech by heart."
This interruption eased some of Harry's tension.
At the same time, in his hand, a round chocolate was unwrapped.
Harry had never seen this chocolate before; it had a smiley face drawn on it, with a crack in the middle of the circle.
He put it in his mouth, and warmth and coolness intertwined simultaneously.
"This is?!"
His body filled with warmth, and mentally, he felt invigorated...
In the stands, as the players emerged from the rest tents, Charlie took Anthony's monocular telescope and looked toward Harry.
'I wonder how the Sun and Moon Combined effect is.'
In the lens, the guy looked somewhat excited, his face a bit flushed, tossing his Nimbus 2000 back and forth between his hands.
'Looks like the effect is good.'
Then, he fiddled with something in his sleeve.
'Next, it's time for me to test how this new product works.'
...
The match started quickly, and Slytherin's tactics seemed incredibly rough.
Beside him, Hector kept cursing: "This is just like hooligan football! What do they think they're doing? Street ball?"
"Not kicking, flying," Anthony reminded.
"Not right either. It's like ice hockey—fights go unchecked, after all, they have those damn Bludgers," Charlie laughed from the side.
Yes, just as Charlie said, despite Slytherin's dirty play being outrageous, it didn't violate any rules.
The commentator Lee Jordan kept issuing accusations against Slytherin.
The righteous Professor McGonagall could only emphasize repeatedly, hoping Jordan would comment fairly—yes, even though it was her Gryffindor players suffering the injustice.
"If Snape were here, he'd probably be grinning from ear to ear," Charlie heard a third-year Gryffindor student in front say.
"But if Professor McGonagall were like Snape, she wouldn't be the McGonagall we like," Hermione whispered to Charlie.
"I agree with that."
Also, Hermione didn't "righteously" refute the third-year in front.
This proved that Hermione was indeed different from the start of term.
If it were her back then... Charlie imagined the scene in his mind.
"Professor McGonagall could never be like that," Hermione would say loudly. Then the two third-years would turn around, frowning, "Who are you?"...
Thinking of that scene, he couldn't help but want to laugh.
"What are you laughing at?" Hermione looked at Charlie suspiciously.
"You must not be thinking anything good, right? Another improper thought."
"Oh, dear, how could you accuse me like that? You're really too—"
Seeing Charlie's hurt expression, Hermione quickly waved her hands: "This... no, Charlie, I didn't mean—"
"You're really too understanding of me," Charlie suddenly laughed.
The next moment, Hermione's helpless eye-roll hit Charlie like a tangible force.
He burst into laughter, while Anthony and Hector nearby shook their heads with wry smiles.
Teasing kids is too much fun.
Hagrid arrived, squeezing in behind everyone. Charlie greeted him too.
During this time, if he had the chance, he'd go chat with Hagrid.
What? Treat Hagrid like a tool, use him and discard him, no more contact?
Charlie couldn't do something like that.
Besides, Hagrid was really a great guy, a warm-hearted giant.
How could Charlie refuse to be friends with him?
The match continued, with intense clashes on both sides, but aside from those thrilling moments, almost everyone's attention was on the Seekers.
Why?
Because as long as both sides had normal Chasers and a Keeper, it was impossible to pull a fifteen-goal lead.
Naturally, the deciding point was always on the Golden Snitch—forever!
However...
The young Gryffindor player seemed to have a bit of an accident.
'It started!' Charlie watched Harry trembling uncontrollably in mid-air and unwrapped the greaseproof paper in his hand.
Inside was a brand-new chocolate.
He ate it, then locked his gaze on Harry, a unique light seeming to flow in his eyes.
'Wind—'
A massive gust of wind swept through the entire pitch. Ron and Hermione's bedsheet with "Harry Must Win" was blown straight into the sky.
"Ladies and gentlemen, a strong wind has appeared. Slytherin's thrown ball deviated because of it, flying outside the goal—truly a good wind!"
"Jordan!" From the microphone, Professor McGonagall's voice followed immediately.
Jordan gave an awkward laugh, then continued: "Look, Harry Potter is moving. His robes are flying, his broom is still shaking—is he too excited?
Wait, he saw something? I think I know why he's excited!
That's—that's—"