Charlie leaned against the cave wall and casually asked, "By the way, did you send Harry that firebolt he received for Christmas?"
Black froze for a moment, then nodded: "It was me."
"How did you buy it?" Charlie raised an eyebrow.
"A fugitive just went shopping in Diagon Alley?"
"I entrusted the Goblins at Gringotts to handle it. They don't care about wanted posters; they only care about money," Black whispered.
"The Black family has a vault at Gringotts, and I can still access some Galleons."
Charlie's heart skipped a beat.
Being able to casually buy a luxury item like the firebolt proved that the Black family was not destitute like the Weasley family; they were truly one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, with deep roots.
"Alright, you hide here for now," Charlie patted Black's shoulder.
"Peter is gone, but he should still be within the confines of Hogwarts. I'll let you know if I hear anything."
Black suddenly grabbed Charlie's arm, his fingers trembling from the strength of his grip:
"You must notify me! I want to kill him with my own hands."
His eyes flickered with a crazed light; twelve years of hatred were practically overflowing from his sockets.
Considering the Black family's ancestral wealth, Charlie's tone was very sincere.
"Don't worry, the moment I have news of Peter, I'll come find you."
... Early the next morning, Charlie woke up two minutes before class.
He cast a Scouring Charm on himself, then Apparated outside the Potion Class classroom, taking a total of one minute.
If it weren't for needing to get dressed, it would have taken only ten seconds.
The surrounding students were already used to it, but they were still envious.
It must be amazing to just Apparate directly to where class is held!
After class, Charlie walked out of the classroom and saw Harry standing dejectedly in the corridor with Ron and Hermione.
"Snape is definitely doing this on purpose!" Ron fumed.
"He just wants Gryffindor to lose the match!"
Hermione, clutching a pile of books, frowned:
"Maybe the Professors just want to make sure the broom isn't dangerous. After all, Snape promised to check it thoroughly in front of all the Professors; he wouldn't cheat, would he?"
Charlie chuckled. "Oh, you sweet girl. Snape not cheating? Don't make your Professor Snape laugh."
If he wasn't cheating, then what was the meaning of the points Gryffindor had deducted, and the extra points Slytherin had gained?
"They've been checking it for almost a month!" Harry's voice was full of frustration.
"If they don't give it back soon, we'll have to use the school's old brooms for next week's match."
The match between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw was imminent. Without the firebolt, even if Harry managed to win the game, it would be difficult to score enough points to surpass Hufflepuff.
So, when Snape emerged from the classroom, he gathered his courage and stopped him.
"Professor, how is the inspection of my broom going?"
Harry tried to keep his voice calm.
Snape slowly turned around, his greasy Black hair hanging beside his face, a sneering curve on his lips.
"Mr. Potter, it seems your concern for Quidditch far outweighs your concern for your brain."
The surrounding Slytherin students began to snicker.
"If you applied this energy to your studies, perhaps your Troll brain could absorb a little more knowledge," Snape continued, his voice full of malice.
"As for your broom, I will return it once I am certain it is completely safe. Unless you would prefer to plummet to your death during a Quidditch match?"
"Oh, perhaps you are confident you won't die, presumptuously believing that in addition to a Troll brain, you also possess the body of a Troll."
Harry clenched his fists. 'I was truly foolish. Why did I think of asking Snape?'
Snape gave a cold scoff.
"I will not act rashly merely to satisfy your vanity. Now, get out of my sight."
He turned and walked away, his Black robes billowing behind him like bat wings.
The surrounding Slytherin students burst into louder laughter, and Malfoy whistled.
Harry's face flushed crimson with anger, but he was powerless to argue, watching helplessly as Snape strode away.
Hermione couldn't stand it anymore and nudged Harry's shoulder:
"Let's go find Professor McGonagall! She cares so much about House pride; she definitely won't let Snape drag this out."
Harry's eyes lit up. 'That's right!' Others might not know it, but as the team's Seeker, he knew perfectly well that Professor McGonagall cared more than anyone about whether Gryffindor could win the quidditch cup.
The three quickly found themselves standing outside Professor McGonagall's office door.
"Come in," Professor McGonagall's voice called from behind the door.
Harry pushed the door open. Before he could speak, Professor McGonagall put down her quill: "Mr. Potter, I presume you are here about the broom?"
"Yes, Professor," Harry took a deep breath.
"Professor Snape has been checking it for almost a month. He's deliberately stalling."
"The match is next week, and I really need that broom."
Professor McGonagall's expression grew serious. Of course, she knew how important the broom was to the match.
But she couldn't agree with Harry.
"Mr. Potter," Professor McGonagall stood up and walked over to Harry.
"Professor Snape is not deliberately stalling; he is simply being diligent in ensuring your safety. The origin of this broom is unknown, and a thorough inspection requires adequate time."
To salvage the Professor's image in the students' minds, the cat Professor worried herself sick.
Harry was stunned.
He suspected his ears were malfunctioning.
Or perhaps his Dean had eaten too many carbs that morning and was talking nonsense.
"Professor, but..." Harry tried to argue.
"There are no 'buts'," Professor McGonagall interrupted, her tone growing stern.
"Mr. Potter, are you unable to distinguish between priorities? Is one match more important, or is your life?"
Harry opened his mouth, unable to utter a single word.
"If the broom truly had a jinx placed upon it, what would happen if you rode it?" Professor McGonagall continued.
"Fall again? This time, Professor Dumbledore might not be there to save you!"
Harry lowered his head, not daring to argue further.
Seeing Harry's look of disbelief mixed with fear of talking back, Professor McGonagall sighed: "Alright, go back to your common room. I will urge Professor Snape to complete the inspection as quickly as possible."
"Yes, Professor," Harry said, turning to leave dejectedly.
Meanwhile, in the office, after Harry had gone, Professor McGonagall immediately grabbed the Wizard robes off her desk and strode toward the dungeons.
Did she not know what Snape was planning? If it weren't for Harry's safety, Professor McGonagall would never have given the broom to Snape.
Snape's office door was tightly closed.
Professor McGonagall knocked on the door, and without waiting for a reply, pushed it open and stepped inside.
"Severus, we need to talk."
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