"But what's the reason, Albus? We can't just send the children into the Forbidden Forest for no reason—that's against school regulations," Professor McGonagall said, making one last attempt to argue.
"The rules state that students caught wandering at night must serve detention, and the nature of that detention is left to the discretion of the supervisor," Dumbledore replied leisurely. "Let Hagrid oversee Harry's detention. Both he and the boy will be delighted."
"Albus, that's not the point! The issue is the rules!" McGonagall's voice rose slightly, sharp with frustration.
"Oh, come now, Minerva," Dumbledore said with a chuckle. "How many Gryffindor students have ever truly followed the rules? Especially Harry—he's clearly a handful, cut from the same mold as his father, James."
"They certainly are…" McGonagall sighed. "Never mind. I won't say another word. We'll do as you suggest."
"Don't worry," Dumbledore said kindly. "I'll make sure everything is properly arranged. If necessary, I'll be nearby myself."
That reassurance eased McGonagall's tension considerably.
"By the way," Dumbledore added, "I'll be giving Harry the Potter family's Invisibility Cloak as a Christmas gift."
At the mention of the cloak, McGonagall's expression softened. For a brief moment, she could almost see that little boy half-hidden under the shimmering fabric, growing up right before her eyes.
It was a sweet memory—but one that made her head ache, and she could feel her blood pressure rising.
"You're giving him the Invisibility Cloak, and then you expect him not to sneak out at night?" McGonagall said irritably. "Are you trying to give me more work? I'd really like to see Gryffindor actually win the House Cup this year!"
Given how much trouble Gryffindor tended to cause, McGonagall couldn't help but feel their chances looked grim.
"I assure you, Minerva, this year's House Cup will belong to Gryffindor—and it will be perfectly fair," Dumbledore said with a knowing smile.
"What are you plotting now?" McGonagall groaned, pressing a hand to her forehead.
"Plotting? Not at all," Dumbledore said, feigning innocence. "This is simply how events are destined to unfold. Now, come—we should hurry. If we don't leave soon, the Quidditch match will begin. It's Harry's first game; I expect it will be quite the spectacle."
At the mention of Quidditch, McGonagall's mood immediately shifted. She could feel her excitement stirring.
"That boy has real talent. He's inherited James's flying skills perfectly. This victory must belong to Gryffindor," McGonagall said, her voice rising with enthusiasm. Quidditch was her greatest passion—her love for it bordered on obsession.
She dreamed of seeing Gryffindor hoist the Quidditch Cup again.
"Then we'd better hurry, or we'll miss Harry's big moment," Dumbledore said as the two of them made their way toward the pitch.
The stands were already packed. Dumbledore and McGonagall climbed the steps to the Gryffindor section and took their seats among the cheering students.
Right on time.
As the crowd erupted in cheers, the Gryffindor Quidditch team soared out of the entrance on their brooms, clad in brilliant scarlet robes trimmed with gold.
By contrast, Slytherin's cheers were noticeably quieter. One house's voices could hardly rival the combined support of three—especially when Hufflepuff boasted the largest number of students.
Harry gripped his broom tightly, his palms slick with sweat.
It was all Wood's fault—their captain had tried to reassure him but instead terrified him with the story of how he had been knocked unconscious by a Bludger in his first match.
Still, as the thunderous cheers filled the air, Harry's nerves began to melt away, replaced by exhilaration and pride.
For the first time, the part of him long suppressed by his uncle's household felt alive and free.
From the stands, Leonard narrowed his eyes at the Slytherin team, his gaze settling on the familiar, smug face of the boy leading them.
"Who's the captain of the Slytherin team again?" Leonard turned to Padma beside him. "He looks kind of familiar."
Padma's expression turned odd as she tried not to laugh. "Marcus Flint. Don't you remember? The Slytherin whose front tooth you knocked out."
"Oh, right." Leonard nodded, then frowned. "But since when did he get handsome?"
"Because you knocked out his front teeth," Ernie cut in with a disgruntled tone. "After Madam Pomfrey fixed them, the buckteeth were gone. Lucky bastard."
"He really did luck out," Leonard said with a smirk. "Maybe I should charge him for cosmetic work."
Who would've thought his punch had beautifying powers?
On the field, the Quidditch players were already in position, waiting for the match to start.
Madam Hooch, who looked a bit like an owl, scanned the players hovering in the air with satisfaction. She opened a wooden chest; inside, the two black Bludgers rattled violently, trying to escape.
The moment she unlatched the leather straps, one of the Bludgers shot out like a cannonball.
Then she released the Golden Snitch—a tiny golden ball with wings that vanished the instant it took flight.
Leonard instinctively switched to magical vision, and only then could he barely trace the Snitch's faint magical signature darting through the air.
Finally, Madam Hooch's whistle cut through the noise as she hurled the Quaffle skyward. In an instant, the Quidditch players burst into motion.
Leonard watched the players weaving through the air on their brooms, dodging Bludgers while trying to score with the Quaffle, his expression clouded with confusion.
So what exactly was supposed to be exciting about this sport?
Look at Harry Potter, then look at Slytherin's Seeker—those two were practically bystanders, completely detached from the chaos, like spectators sitting in a VIP box.
This sport had the strangest kind of dissonance.
Even stranger, Harry didn't seem to realize how important the Seeker's job was. He sat there enjoying the back-and-forth scoring like any other spectator, right up until Slytherin's Marcus Flint grabbed his own Beater's bat and used it to knock out Keeper Wood with a Bludger.
Only then did Harry snap back to his senses.
Remembering his actual role, he immediately began scanning the field for the Golden Snitch. Whether it was luck or raw instinct, he spotted it almost right away and dived after it at full speed.
Harry's sudden movement caught Slytherin's Seeker's attention. Without even confirming he'd seen the Snitch, the Slytherin Seeker dove after him.
At that same moment, a pair of malicious eyes from the stands fixed sharply on Harry.
...
If you'd like to support my work and unlock advanced chapters, you can follow me on P@treon.
[Upto 50 chapters ahead for now]
[email protected]/BlurryDream