The Quidditch match was in full swing, and Harry was enveloped by the fervent atmosphere.
Ron was jumping and bouncing beside him, unable to stay seated as if he had a thorn stuck in his rear.
In such an atmosphere, even the usually composed Hermione was caught up in it, cheering excitedly from her seat, her face flushed.
Harry, however, was drawn to other matters.
On one hand, he could clearly perceive a continuous and exceptionally cold surge of magic emanating from the staff stands, full of malice and aimed directly at him.
On the other hand, having entered the pitch brought him closer to the Forbidden Forest, and a restless yet weak magical force was silently brewing at the forest's edge, carrying a scorching aura.
On the staff stand were Snape and Quirrell.
But Snape, though harsh, would not stoop to bullying a child in public; Quirrell, on the other hand, was highly suspect as the suspected host of Voldemort.
At the edge of the Forbidden Forest, there was no one else but Hagrid, the gamekeeper.
Harry did not know what he had gotten hold of.
Harry thoughtfully poked his chin: after the Quidditch match, he would explore the fourth floor again, and then take Quirrell out of the picture.
If he could also eliminate the parasitic Voldemort on him in one go, that would be even better.
As he was thinking, the match between Gryffindor and Slytherin had already begun, and Lee Jordan's commentary rang out, briefly shifting Harry's attention to the pitch.
"Oliver's got the Quaffle! Nice!"
"Oh no, watch out! We can see Slytherin's Flint charging at Angelina! He's going to attack! How despicable!"
Lee Jordan's furious shout burst out, followed immediately by Professor McGonagall's rebuke: "Lee Jordan!"
"Oh, alright, Professor." Lee Jordan's voice still carried indignation as he swallowed his curses and reluctantly changed his tone, "Flint has adopted some aggressive tactics… it seems our Gryffindor players weren't expecting it…"
Marcus Flint was a hulking brute like a water buffalo, and his charge was unexpected; Angelina didn't react in time and was knocked straight off her broom by him.
Flint let out a smug, cold smirk.
Gasps erupted from the stands, followed immediately by shouts of anger.
Fortunately, Angelina was an agile and strong girl; she grabbed her broom handle with one hand, controlled the broom to descend rapidly, and managed to flip herself back onto it.
The young witches and wizards cheered immediately, and Professor McGonagall breathed a sigh of relief, her hand holding her wand relaxing slightly.
She certainly did not want to see her own students injured, and her stop of Lee was only for the sake of fairness.
After all, the commentary echoed across the entire pitch, audible to every young witch and wizard; letting him curse would inevitably cause a commotion.
"Despicable! Shameless piece of dung!" Ron jumped three feet in the air, frantic with anger; he had almost been scared to death moments ago.
Angelina was dozens of feet above the ground; a real fall could break her neck, and that bear-like Flint was so insidious and vicious!
"Evil Slytherins…" Ron gritted his teeth.
Harry didn't find it particularly significant; the process didn't matter, only the result did. As long as the outcome satisfied him, he didn't care what the process was like, how many died, or how much loss there was.
However, this behavior from Slytherin was obviously very foolish.
In a mere ball game, they had nearly escalated it to the level of life-threatening danger, which would undoubtedly damage the house's image.
Moreover, this was a school, and after the 1980s, Slytherin's status in the magical world had been consistently delicate; it was not a good idea for Slytherins to wildly make enemies during their school years.
Hermione was no longer excited; the frightening scene had made her fully aware of the dangers of Quidditch, and she now watched the Quidditch teams flying chaotically in the air with sheer terror.
Lee Jordan's commentary continued: "Flint is trying to attack again…"
McGonagall frowned: "Lee Jordan!"
Lee Jordan abruptly changed his tone, suddenly becoming excited: "Oh… alright Professor McGonagall, Gryffindor's Chaser has successfully hit a Bludger, blocking Flint!"
"Well done, mate! Hit that bear right in the face!"
Excited, Lee Jordan howled, only to be slapped on the back of the head by McGonagall: "If you are unwilling to commentate properly, someone else can do it!"
"Oh, this is terrible! I'm sorry, Professor—"
"Wait? Where is that Bludger going?" Lee's ear was still being twisted by Professor McGonagall, but he had already noticed the anomaly on the pitch.
The Bludger, hit by George and Fred to block Flint, did not continue flying freely across the pitch but instead hovered eerily in the air, trembling left and right.
The Weasley twins and the Slytherin Beaters rushed forward, trying to intercept the Bludger.
But a second before they reached it, the Bludger swerved without warning, shooting straight towards the Gryffindor stands.
Its target was Harry's head.
"Merlin!" Lee Jordan's terrified shout exploded, "Get out of the way!"
Harry watched the rapidly enlarging Bludger reflected in his eyes; he unconsciously pinched his sleeve, a spell already primed and ready.
Then he was grabbed by Ron and Hermione on either side; both wore terrified expressions but moved without hesitation, pulling Harry to duck under the chairs.
Hermione's voice was sharp and shrill: "Harry, look out!"
Pulled forcefully by the two, Harry slid straight from his seat onto the floor, banging the back of his head on the edge of the seat, pain making him roll his eyes.
The trio tumbled awkwardly across the ground, and the massive Bludger slammed into Harry's seat, causing it to collapse and sending dust billowing into the air.
The young witches and wizards around them erupted in uproar, leaping from their seats in terror and scrambling aside.
The Bludger trembled over Harry's seat for a moment, then suddenly flew up again, smashing down towards the three on the ground.
Harry already had the 'Reducto' spell ready in his hand, but Ron and Hermione suddenly rolled, dragging him all the way from under the seats towards the aisle.
Harry heard a distinct crack, followed by a sharp pain, and his expression contorted instantly: Damn it… his arm was dislocated from the pressure!
Was Hogwarts out to get him?
Before he could react, Harry suddenly felt his collar tighten as his Gryffindor classmates, scrambling together, roughly hauled him up from the ground, just in time to dodge the Bludger's next attack.
The moment the Bludger began its charge, George and Fred had urgently spurred their brooms in pursuit, trying to intercept the runaway ball.
Then George was knocked off his broom by that damned ball, dangling with one hand from his broom, swinging in the air.
Fred braked sharply before crashing into the stands, glaring furiously at the ball wreaking havoc on the stands as it chased Harry, unable to hold back a curse.
Most Slytherin students watched the chaos among the Gryffindors with gleeful amusement, but there was little smile on the faces of Blaise and his group who were seated together.
If one looked closely, one could even see a hint of scrutiny and gravity in their eyes.
The sudden rampage of the Bludger was clearly abnormal, and someone must be secretly orchestrating it.
Aside from the Dark Lord's remaining followers, they couldn't think of who else would dare to attack the Boy Who Lived right under Dumbledore's nose.
One could only say their imagination wasn't bold enough; the "Dark Lord" had already infiltrated Hogwarts.
Draco had already disappeared from his seat.
Snape frowned deeply, staring intently at the Bludger and muttering under his breath, when he suddenly heard a dull thud behind him.
Then, right before his eyes, the Bludger in front of Harry violently exploded.
Snape rose abruptly.