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Harry's eyes narrowed into slits; the wind was too strong, and he couldn't see anything clearly.
He used every ounce of strength to cling desperately to his Nimbus— he had always treated the broom as a partner, but now it seemed intent on throwing him off.
Malfoy certainly wouldn't be waiting below with a mattress.
If he fell here, it would be certain death.
On the other hand, through his squinted eyes, he glimpsed a flash of gold. The strong wind behind him seemed to push at his back, urging him in that direction.
Yes, everyone in the stands was cheering, assuming Harry was trembling with excitement as he flew that way.
But only he knew that he couldn't do anything right now; the broom wasn't responding, and he was being propelled forward by the massive gust.
The next moment, the broom suddenly shot vertically upward, then plummeted straight down.
"Tsk..."
In the stands, Charlie let out an impatient sound.
If his wind was soft control, then the curse currently affecting Harry's broom was hard control.
This was truly tricky...
The Golden Snitch vanished from sight; it flew incredibly fast. As it disappeared, Harry's abnormality gradually caught people's attention.
"What's wrong with him?" Ron asked worriedly first. "The broom isn't malfunctioning, is it?"
"How could it? The Nimbus 2000 is the latest model," Anthony said from the side.
Hermione reacted much faster. She snatched Ron's telescope, not looking at Harry, but scanning the crowd in the stands below.
"It's him!" she whispered suddenly.
Ron asked curiously beside her, "Who?"
"Snape."
Ron took the telescope and looked toward Snape, only to see him muttering under his breath, his gaze fixed intently on Harry.
Before Ron could say anything else, he turned his head and Hermione had already disappeared.
Sitting behind Ron, Charlie naturally saw all of this.
He knew that once Hermione reached Snape and set his robes on fire, the game time would end.
The chocolate he had eaten earlier had the highest concentration of autumn wind.
Clearly, that alone wasn't enough to win this little game.
With a flick of his fingers, another chocolate appeared in his hand.
"Autumn wind—thunder—moonlight—"
He had no idea what effect this would have.
After eating the chocolate, thunder first surged and exploded in his mouth. Charlie cast a Softening Charm, and his head inflated outward like in a cartoon.
No one noticed this.
Once the explosive sensation of thunder subsided, bright blue electric light flickered in his eyes.
"Wind—"
A gentle breeze blew from behind Charlie.
?!
What the hell?
He was certain he had just summoned wind, but where was it?
That tiny puff earlier? What was that!
Wait!
Charlie sensed carefully and soon discovered the difference.
It was twilight energy; the autumn wind was laced with twilight energy.
Suddenly, an idea flashed in his mind. He no longer focused on Harry but abruptly turned his head toward Snape's direction.
On the other side, Snape was staring intently at Harry, muttering "Finite Incantatem"!
Unlike what others thought, when Snape saw Harry trembling, he instantly realized someone was casting a malicious curse on his broom—likely a Confundus Charm, and perhaps more than that.
The caster's methods were extremely sophisticated. Snape's wandless, silent "Finite" could only barely hold its own against them.
A gust of wind blew head-on, and he squinted. The next moment, Snape's mind interrupted the curse.
"Forget it, just let it be..."
This thought appeared abruptly, breaking his spell.
?!
But the next instant, he became instantly alert.
A new curse?
Was it the one who cast the Confundus on Harry?
He realized I was counter-cursing, and now they're stopping me!
Occlumency activated instantly, and Snape quickly gathered his focus.
A bad thought arose immediately: the spell had been interrupted by this mental attack.
And in that moment, his protective spell on the Nimbus broke.
This instant might be enough for that guy to throw Harry off.
He quickly looked back at Harry in the sky.
?!
Strangely, Harry's broom seemed to have returned to normal.
At the same time, Quirrell, sitting one row in front of Snape, looked utterly despondent, his head drooping, shoulders slumped.
"I might as well be dead..."
"Oh, Merlin, look at what I've become... a puppet, a monster!"
In his mind, fragments of the past flickered endlessly.
He had always been an insecure person from childhood, always stuttering when he spoke. As soon as anyone glanced at him, he'd become a nervous wreck.
Such sensitivity inevitably invited mockery at certain moments.
The more he was mocked, the more insecure and sensitive he became; the more insecure and sensitive, the more those insignificant awkward scenes assaulted and tormented his heart like nightmares.
"Hey, bookworm."
"Look at that little stutterer; when the teacher calls on him, he can't even speak clearly."
"I heard he's secretly studying dark magic."
"Can he even figure it out? Or does he think that with dark magic, he'll earn respect?"
Those nightmare scenes from the past replayed over and over before Quirrell, tormenting him.
A thought flashed— he had once believed that following the Dark Lord might change everything.
But look at him now? His head reeked of garlic, and there was a loathsome face on the back of his skull, always with him.
When he used the toilet, bathed, slept—even in his dreams—that face was forever there.
Perhaps...
Perhaps...
I should have died long ago.
...
In the real world, as Harry snatched the Golden Snitch, the entire Quidditch pitch erupted in tsunami-like cheers.
And amid this clamor, in the teachers' stands, a figure with a purple turban stepped forward two paces.
Under the astonished gazes of everyone around, he leaped out of the stands.
"Quirinus!" Professor Sinistra's scream rang out from Astronomy.
Professor Flitwick quickly waved his wand: "Wingardium Leviosa—"
However, before his spell could complete—
Bang—
Quirrell hit the ground heavily.
"Hiss~~"
In the Gryffindor stands, Charlie sucked in a breath through his teeth.
How did a puff of twilight energy make you jump?
With that fragile heart, how are you supposed to do big things with the Dark Lord?
You know, Quidditch is a high-altitude sport, and the stands are built quite high—at least four or five stories—that's over ten meters.
At the same time, the commotion in the teachers' viewing area quickly spread throughout the pitch.
"What's going on over there?" Anthony and Hector asked urgently.
Charlie handed them the telescope: "Quirrell jumped."
"What nonsense?" Anthony took the telescope and looked that way, not understanding what Charlie meant at all. "What do you mean, Quirrell jumped for no reason?"
With the telescope in Anthony's hand, Hector asked urgently: "What happened?"
A moment later, Anthony passed the telescope to Hector, his face also stunned, saying only:
"Quirrell jumped."