Marcus Flint was injured and had to leave the field, giving Gryffindor a chance to catch their breath and score a goal.
10 to 50... Although the gap is still large, at least they have some points now.
With the Bludger returning to normal, Harry noticed right away and started speeding up, squinting through the silver-white curtain of rain to search for the whereabouts of the Snitch.
Harry was anxious.
Because he didn't know if this normal state was temporary, and the score gap was growing, he had to catch the Golden Snitch as soon as possible to end the match.
"Were you practicing ballet just now, Potter?" Malfoy deliberately flew up next to him and shouted loudly:
"I never knew you had talent in that area, maybe you should sign up for the Skeleton Dance Troupe!"
Harry was a bit annoyed by Malfoy's noise, and couldn't help glancing back. But with that glance, he saw... the Golden Snitch flying between the two of them.
Without hesitation, Harry chased after it.
Malfoy was slower to react.
Though he fell behind considerably, thanks to his broom's advantage, the distance between them was closing bit by bit.
"It's the Golden Snitch... Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy both see it... they're speeding up!"
On the commentary stand, Lee Jordan shouted excitedly: "The Golden Snitch changed direction... Harry Potter is following closely, less than two feet away... Draco Malfoy is left behind... sometimes having a good broom doesn't help."
The distance between Harry and the Golden Snitch grew closer and closer, his fingertips even managed to touch the wings of the Snitch... But at that moment, a Bludger suddenly changed direction and flew straight towards them.
This time, Harry didn't dodge, he released the broom, lunging forward, grabbing the Golden Snitch tightly in his hand.
But at the same time, his arm was hit and broken by the Bludger.
With a bang, water splashed everywhere as Harry fell off the broom, landing in the muddy field, his arm hanging at an awkward angle.
A burst of cheers erupted from the stands.
Kael was also very pleased... After three years, this was the first time he watched a whole first match, worthy of remembering.
While the stands were chanting Harry's name in unison, Kael also noticed Dobby the house-elf hurriedly fleeing the Quidditch Pitch.
And behind Dobby, Caca was wildly swinging a cleaning broom, hitting it on the head with great force.
This is how house-elves resolve conflicts... Simple and brutal, without magic, just a good beating.
Kael raised an eyebrow; he didn't know if the Bludger that changed direction and Dobby were related... if so, it's really quite persistent.
It's just a pity for Harry; Kael thought he could save his arm.
After the match, Ms. Hooch moved Harry to the side of the field, right next to Marcus Flint, preparing to take them to the Hospital Wing together.
Many people came over.
Harry groggily saw a row of gleaming teeth.
"Oh, no, not you." He groaned.
"What did you say, do you want me to heal your arm?" Lockhart loudly told the students gathered around: "Don't worry, I was about to do just that."
He drew his wand...
"So, which one of you will be first?"
Harry was extremely glad he hadn't fainted; he pointed with his uninjured hand towards Marcus Flint, "He, he's more seriously injured."
"Such a kind-hearted child." Lockhart emotionally wiped the rainwater from the corner of his eye, "You don't have to worry, no matter who, it takes me just a blink of an eye to heal, so let's start with the nearest one."
Lockhart looked towards Harry's arm.
"No!" Harry quickly said, "Just leave it like this, it doesn't hurt at all... hiss... thank you."
Harry struggled to sit up.
"You see, you're in so much pain that you're starting to speak nonsense." Lockhart lifted his wand, "Lie down, this is just a simple spell, I've used it countless times..."
"Professor Lockhart..."
Kael squeezed through the crowd, gently whispering beside Lockhart: "I know you can definitely heal them, but let's leave such minor matters to Madam Pomfrey... otherwise she'd be out of a job.
Besides, I think everyone is more interested in hearing your opinion on the match just now."
"Oh... you're right, I shouldn't steal Poppy's thunder."
Lockhart patted his head, "I'm sorry, during my travels I often treated injured people, it's a habit... I hope Poppy can forgive me."
"But speaking of Quidditch, you're asking the right person." Lockhart laughed, "The Appleby Arrows have twice invited me to join them, but I had to regretfully refuse because I needed to save villagers troubled by the Wagga Werewolf.
In fact, just this July, they invited me again... On the second day after Headmaster Dumbledore came to see me, if the invitation had arrived two days earlier, I might already be on the Quidditch field."
His words caused quite a stir... even now, many students are still his admirers.
Harry, lying on the ground, breathed a sigh of relief.
"Thank you..." he whispered his gratitude to Kael.
Fred and George squeezed over too, using the opportunity while Lockhart was boasting about his flying skills, they lifted Harry and dashed towards the Hospital Wing.
...
Everything went smoothly, Madam Pomfrey reattached Harry's arm in just a second.
Though she looked somewhat displeased.
"Every year there are injuries... this sport is too dangerous, I don't understand why Dumbledore hasn't banned it."
She handed Harry a bottle of potion, "Drink it, it'll be good for your recovery..."
Harry didn't speak, silently drinking a sip of potion.
Even though he was prepared, Harry still nearly choked; the taste was just like dishwater at the Dursley's, he held back to avoid throwing up.
"Weren't there two injured?" Madam Pomfrey looked around, "Why is there only one of you?"
Just as the words fell, the Slytherin people carried Marcus Flint into the Hospital Wing.
The sight of enemies made them furious; staring at the Gryffindor team, they didn't hide the hatred in their eyes.
But as it was the Hospital Wing, these people dared not act rashly, only placing Marcus on the bed furthest from Harry.
"Nose is broken, teeth are missing a lot..." Madam Pomfrey examined Marcus's condition, solemnly said: "Dumbledore really should ban this dangerous sport!"
"Madam Pomfrey, in fact, Quidditch isn't that dangero..."
Malfoy was about to say something, but Madam Pomfrey just glanced up, and he wisely shut his mouth.
After staying here for a few days last time, Malfoy developed a phobia of Madam Pomfrey.
The medicine she gave was too difficult to swallow... the taste was even nastier than slugs.
Thinking of this, Malfoy's face grew even paler and he instinctively looked towards the exit.
He initially wanted to find a chance to mock Harry, but now, he just wanted to leave here immediately.