Christmas ended, and the school resumed its usual routine.
Draco continued to live his seemingly calm school life, following a four-point routine: dining hall, library, dormitory, and classroom, with few exceptions.
As for Harry, he was miserable; Wood, the Quidditch captain of his house, was stricter with his teammates than ever before.
Even in the drizzly weather that followed the heavy snow, his enthusiasm did not cool in the slightest.
The Weasley twins kept complaining, but they persevered, and as for Harry, it went without saying.
Because if they won this match, they could likely end the seven-year streak of Slytherin winning the House Cup this year.
When a goal is out of reach, people usually give up, but when the goal is something you can reach by just standing on your tiptoes, most people tend to grit their teeth and persevere.
This was the true portrayal of the Gryffindor team.
The Weasley twins started goofing around on the training ground again, constantly dive-bombing each other and pretending to fall off their broomsticks.
Finally, they were scolded by Wood, and along with that came bad news: "Snape will be the referee for this match."
In an instant, dark clouds gathered on the faces of almost all the team members; the goal that had just been within reach had suddenly become impossible again.
Morale dropped, and their enthusiasm for training diminished significantly; this was clearly a fatal blow.
Training ended, and the Gryffindor players were still whispering and chatting, presumably guessing how Snape would make things difficult for them.
Harry had no heart to listen and headed straight for the Gryffindor common room; he wanted to ask Hermione and Ron for advice, as he suspected Snape would target him again.
"Don't participate in the match," Hermione said immediately.
"Just say you're sick," Ron said.
"Pretend you broke your leg," Hermione suggested.
"Actually break your leg," Ron added.
Harry rubbed his forehead in pain and said, "I am the only Seeker on the team; if I'm absent, the team won't be able to compete."
Ron and Hermione stopped talking immediately; they both knew Harry was a boy with a strong sense of responsibility, and he wouldn't drag the whole team down for the sake of his own safety.
Of course, this once again indirectly reflected the game's irrationality and the Gryffindor team's failure to cultivate talent; how could a major match not have a substitute?
"Damn it." Draco took a fierce bite of his buttered bread, feeling a bit dispirited.
"My dear lady, can we not care about a match that isn't for our house? Do you know what time I went to bed last night?" Draco wailed exaggeratedly at the dining table.
"I must see Gryffindor lose," Pansy said, clearly still brooding over the team's previous defeat, clenching her fists as she spoke.
"I hate female fans," Draco muttered to himself.
"But today should be quick; I'll watch it and go back to catch up on sleep," he thought, and his mood seemed to improve slightly.
"Our Head of House is the referee for this match, so Gryffindor will definitely suffer a big loss," Pansy said in a low voice, but Draco could feel the excitement in her tone.
Draco could not help rubbing his forehead. "Is it really acceptable to be this happy about an unfair referee?"
Soon they arrived at the stadium, and the audience's enthusiasm was unprecedented.
Cheers and shouts of encouragement rang across the stadium even before the match began; Gryffindor was particularly excited, as this match was too critical for them. But when they learned that Snape was the referee, there were obvious boos from the stands.
"Ron, look, Professor Dumbledore is here," Hermione tugged at Ron's sleeve in the stands and said.
Dumbledore walked slowly into the venue, dragging his robes.
"Thank goodness," Ron breathed a sigh of relief, "Now we can rest easy; Snape definitely won't dare to play any tricks in front of him."
"Not necessarily," Hermione frowned. "It seems Professor Dumbledore was in the stands last time, too," she said.
"Then why didn't he help Harry last time?" Ron asked sceptically.
"I don't know." She paused and gripped her wand tightly. "So we still can't let our guard down."
"Remember, don't forget, it's the Leg-Locker Curse," Hermione reminded Ron.
"I know," Ron said impatiently. "I still don't believe he would dare to play tricks in public."
Hermione thought the intervention last time had been too slow, so she chose to use a new spell to deal with Snape today.
On the field, the players from both sides arrived at the centre of the pitch, and as was customary, Madam Hooch said a few words about playing fairly before the match began.
"Penalty for Hufflepuff!" Snape said in a gloomy tone.
Less than a few minutes into the match, Snape awarded Hufflepuff a penaltybecauset George had hit a Bludger at him, interfering with the referee.
Harry was still circling the pitch like an eagle; he had to find the Golden Snitch as quickly as possible so that Snape would have as little time as possible to favour Hufflepuff.
"Penalty for Hufflepuff!" he said again, and this time it was completely groundless.
The Gryffindor students in the stands were boiling over; shrill whistling came from all grades, and even the Hufflepuff students looked uncomfortable. With their honest nature, even if they were being favoured, they could hardly accept it.
"Well done," Pansy cheered with her hands raised high.
"Why aren't you cheering? Our house scored again," Pansy poked Draco with her arm.
"Oh, yes!" Draco raised his hands and waved them stiffly. "Well done!" he said dryly.
As soon as he finished speaking, thunderous applause suddenly erupted around the stands, except for the seats on their side, which were eerily silent.
It seemed the outcome had already been decided when Pansy reminded Draco; she had missed the crucial moment.
The commentator's excited voice rang out: "My word, what did I just see? Many spectators must not have reacted yet; even I almost missed this historic moment! Harry Potter of the Gryffindor team suddenly made a beautiful dive; he was so fast that I thought he was about to crash into the ground, and the referee thought the same."
He caught his breath and continued, "Snape had already mounted his broom, ready to go and 'rescue' him. But Harry didn't fall; just inches away from the referee, he successfully caught the Golden Snitch, and now he is holding it high, declaring his victory! Let's cheer, audience, for this historic moment—we have just witnessed the fastest-ending Quidditch match in history!"
The enormous cheers almost overturned the entire venue.
But Ron still muttered, "He clearly just wanted to find an opportunity to kick someone while they were down."
Ron, who had not believed it at all just a moment ago, was still very shocked to see Snape mount his broom, so his stance changed very easily.
"Hmm," Hermione agreed. "But Harry didn't give him the chance!" She smiled happily.
"Well done," a kind voice came from behind Harry; he turned and saw Dumbledore's smiling face.
"I'm very glad to see that you aren't thinking about that Mirror of Erised all day long; it's wonderful that you're living a full life," the professor said softly.
Harry looked further behind and saw Snape spitting fiercely on the ground; he felt this might be the happiest moment of his life, and his mood was more cheerful than ever.
He had finally done something truly worth being proud of—from now on, no one would say he only had a famous name.
The night air had never felt so sweet.
He walked across the damp grass, and the events of the past hour replayed in his mind; they were blurred, happy fragments: Gryffindor students running over to lift him onto their shoulders; Ron and Hermione jumping up and down in the distance, Ron cheering while his nose bled.
Harry had reached the broom shed.
He leaned against the wooden door and looked up at Hogwarts, its windows glowing red in the setting sun.
The Gryffindor team was in the lead.
He had succeeded.
Some were happy, some were sad.
A sharp pain suddenly came from someone's foot; he had been stepped on.
He turned his head and saw Pansy's flushed little face.
Draco saw that she was trembling all over, and her eyes were turning red.
"I told you not to come; you insisted on coming to suffer the blow."
Draco clearly did not say these words out loud; that would obviously be adding fuel to the fire, and the priority now was to calm things down.
But for a moment, he could not find any comforting words.
"Who am I? I'm a rich kid!" He suddenly slapped his forehead and said slowly to Pansy: "Gryffindor won unfairly; Harry Potter's broom is the latest Nimbus 2000, and Professor McGonagall seems fair, but she's actually the most biased towards them."
Hearing this, Pansy nodded fiercely, clearly agreeing with the explanation.
"But this problem won't exist next year; I will ask my father to sponsor the Slytherin team, and next year's Nimbus 2001 will definitely be better than theirs."
"Really? That's not a small sum, is it?" Pansy asked incredulously.
"For the honour of the house, what are a few Galleons?" Draco said righteously.
Pansy looked at him blankly, then suddenly chuckled and said, "Oh, come off it. You're the person with the least sense of house pride; I had to drag you to both matches."
"Uh…" Draco did not know how to respond.
"But I know you did it for me," Pansy said quietly. Unlike the flush of anger from before, her face now held a shy blush that made her look bashful and adorable.
"Thank you," she whispered, then kissed him lightly on the cheek like a dragonfly skimming water before turning and running away.
"The evils of capitalism," Draco said, touching the spot where she had kissed him.
"But I like it," he added inwardly.
---
A/N: Advance Chapter Has Been Uploaded. Please Check It Out. It will really help me out and will keep me motivated to continue.
Support: patreon.com/Narrator_San