Early in the morning, a quarrel broke out between Ron and Hermione at the Hufflepuff long table.
Hermione's cat, Crookshanks, crouched on the edge of the table, his yellow eyes fixed on Scabbers, the rat in Ron's arms.
Scabbers huddled in Ron's pocket, trembling.
Ron shielded Scabbers and glared at Hermione.
"Control your cat!" Ron yelled.
"He keeps staring at Scabbers, scaring him so much he won't even come out!"
Hermione rolled her eyes.
"Crookshanks is just curious, he doesn't catch rats."
"Then what's he doing staring at Scabbers, mouth open and drooling? Appreciating art?"
Hermione lifted Crookshanks' chin and pinched his muzzle.
"Crookshanks is a smart cat, he's just observing."
Ron glared fiercely at Crookshanks; Hermione's words annoyed him.
Scabbers was his only pet; he hadn't owned many things truly his since childhood, and Scabbers was one of them, so he didn't want anything to happen to Scabbers.
Ron put his hand on Harry's shoulder.
"Harry, you be the judge!" Ron's tone carried obvious grievance.
Harry, caught between his two friends, looked a little troubled.
He looked at Ron, then at Hermione, and finally spoke.
"Hermione, to be honest, the way Crookshanks looks at Scabbers really isn't quite right," Harry said cautiously.
Upon hearing this, Hermione hugged Crookshanks even tighter, sat back in her chair huffily, and began vigorously poking the fried egg on her plate.
Ron smugly leaned against Harry, even raising an eyebrow at Hermione.
Charlie looked at Ron's hand on Harry's shoulder, his expression subtle.
Ever since he saw Pettigrew's name last time, Charlie had felt something was off with Ron.
Harry had faced life and death with him, but he didn't expect him to try to kill Harry.
Charlie quietly moved sideways, putting some distance between himself and the two.
Just then, Wood walked over from the Gryffindor long table.
He was wearing his Quidditch uniform, his face etched with seriousness.
Wood walked behind Harry and suddenly squeezed Harry's shoulder.
"Harry," Wood's voice was deep and earnest.
"Are you ready for today's Quidditch match?"
It turned out today was the first Quidditch match of the semester, Hufflepuff against Gryffindor.
Harry flinched from the squeeze and quickly sat up straight.
"I'm ready, Wood," Harry nodded solemnly.
"Yesterday, I practiced the tactics you designed for an extra hour."
A flicker of satisfaction passed through Wood's eyes.
"We will definitely win."
Cedric, who was drinking pumpkin juice nearby, put down his cup when he heard this and smiled gently.
"Wood, confidence is a good thing," Cedric's tone was relaxed, but his words carried an edge.
"But if you treat us as ordinary opponents, then you will definitely lose."
Wood suddenly turned his head, his eyes fixed on Cedric.
Their gazes clashed in the air, sparks almost flying.
"Is that so?" Wood's lips curved into a smile.
"Then let's wait and see."
Cedric also smiled, but that smile was full of fire... A heavy rainstorm fell on Hogwarts in autumn.
Large raindrops pelted the stands of the Quidditch Pitch, making a continuous pattering sound.
The sky was dark and oppressive, with rolling black clouds, as if they were about to swallow the entire Castle.
But this rain did not deter the students' enthusiasm.
The entire faculty and student body still filled the Quidditch Pitch, and the stands of each house were packed with people.
Some held umbrellas, some wore raincoats, and others simply got drenched, their faces flushed with excitement.
Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle sat in the Slytherin stands, sheltered by a huge black umbrella.
Malfoy sat with his legs crossed, holding a small notebook, occasionally writing something down.
"Diggory's flying speed is faster than last year," Malfoy squinted, staring at the pitch.
"But Potter, that scar-head, looks like he's not in good form; he almost got hit by a Bludger just now."
Crabbe grinned foolishly and nodded. "Boss, you're amazing."
"Stop flattering me," Malfoy glanced at him.
"We're here to gather intelligence; when Slytherin plays them, we'll surely win easily."
In the Hufflepuff stands, Hermione held a yellow umbrella, its surface pattering loudly from the rain.
She stood next to Charlie, looking annoyed.
"Why do I have to hold the umbrella for you?" Hermione's voice showed clear displeasure.
Charlie leaned back in his seat, hands in his pockets, looking as if it were only natural.
"Because you are kind, and can't stand to see someone get wet in the rain."
Several black lines immediately appeared on Hermione's forehead.
"You're so mean."
But one umbrella couldn't completely block the downpour.
When the wind blew, the rain slanted in, landing on Charlie's pant leg.
Charlie looked down at his soaked pant leg and made a 'tsk' sound.
He drew his wand and waved it casually.
A translucent light screen spread from the tip of his wand, quickly forming an arched barrier that encompassed Charlie, Hermione, Ron, Ernie, and Justin.
The rain hit the light screen with a fine pattering sound, but it could no longer seep through.
At the same time, his soaked pant leg dried.
Hermione was stunned.
"What Spell is that?"
Charlie put away his wand.
"It's not a Spell, just a little application of magic."
As almost all of Charlie's Spells reached level four, his understanding of magic gradually deepened.
Simple applications like this didn't require any Spells; what he thought, happened.
Ron looked impressed but didn't quite understand, but praising was enough.
"Awesome, Charlie."
Hermione bit her lip, looking at Charlie with complex eyes.
The gap seemed to be getting wider and wider.
On the pitch, Cedric's uniform was already soaked.
He squinted, circling in the air, his gaze constantly sweeping the pitch.
The golden wings of the golden snitch flashed in the rain.
Cedric sharply pulled his broom and dove in that direction.
The rain stung his face; he reached out, his fingertips almost touching the golden snitch.
But just then, a gust of wind blew, pushing the golden snitch off course, and it slipped from his fingertips.
Cedric gritted his teeth and pulled his broom up again.
A sigh of regret erupted from the Hufflepuff stands.
"Damn weather!" Ernie pounded the armrest of his seat.
Charlie's gaze fell on Harry on the other side of the pitch.
Harry looked to be in very bad shape.
His glasses were covered in rain, and he swayed precariously on his broom.
A Bludger flew towards him, and Harry reacted half a beat too late, almost getting hit in the head.
Hermione frowned.
"The rain is all over Harry's glasses; he can't see anything."
Wood on the field also noticed the problem and raised his hand to signal the referee to pause the game.
Madam Hooch blew her whistle, and the players descended to the ground.
Without a word, Hermione put away her wand and rushed into the rain, running to Harry's side, pointing her wand at his glasses.
"Impervious!"
A silvery-white light shot from the tip of her wand, enveloping Harry's glasses.
The rain hit the lenses and immediately slid off, no longer obscuring his vision.
Harry gave a grateful smile.
"Thank you, Hermione!"
Hermione nodded and turned to run back.
When she returned to the stands, she was drenched like a drowned rat, completely soaked, her hair plastered to her face.
Charlie waved his hand casually.
The water on Hermione's body instantly evaporated, and her hair returned to its fluffy state.
"Thanks."
Hermione smiled and sat back down in her seat.
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