Chapter 95. Hermione Was Very Shocked
Duncan and Neville hurried to the Quidditch pitch, and the match had already been under way for a while.
The stands were packed with students, a deafening roar rising all around.
Gryffindor and Slytherin students were straining every nerve to cheer for their own Houses, each trying to drown out the other.
If the stands weren't separate, it felt like the two powder-keg Houses would already have started a fight.
Neville craned his head at the vast sea of people and asked, "Duncan, which stand should we go to in order to find Ron?"
"That one straight opposite us," Duncan shouted back, striding forward.
"How do you know?" Neville stuck close behind him, puzzled that Duncan could see so clearly from so far away.
"Look at the very top—that fluttering banner that says 'Potter Will Win.'
One glance and you know it's Ron and the others' handiwork."
As Duncan spoke, he glanced at the middle of the pitch.
The match was already close to boiling point, with Gryffindor and Slytherin players colliding all over the field, neither side willing to yield.
Harry was the focus of both attack and defence; in just a short while Duncan saw him struck by Bludgers three times.
The whistle in Madam Hooch's mouth kept going toot—toot—toot as she tried to bring the situation under control, but it was no use.
"Neville, move faster!" Duncan quickened his pace.
For such a fervent, grand occasion, you had to find a spot with a good view.
Jogging up the creaking steps to the top of the stands, Duncan found Ron in the back row.
He was sitting with dorm-mates Seamus and Dean, and with Hermione.
Hagrid sat at the far end, his thick arms guarding two seats.
"Sorry, I'm late!" Duncan said with a smile as he reached them.
"Why are you only getting here now?" Ron sounded a bit regretful.
"The match has been going on for ages—you've missed loads of brilliant moments!"
"Sit down, Duncan—those two seats next to Hagrid are the ones we saved for you!"
Hermione spoke, and she too had been infected by the feverish atmosphere around them.
Her face was flushed red from shouting, like a red apple.
"Thanks." Duncan spoke, then he and Neville sat down beside Hagrid.
"Look, Harry seems to have spotted the Golden Snitch!"
Hagrid's booming voice roared in Duncan's ear, and his big hand fanned the air with a whooshing sound.
Duncan hastily lowered his head a little so he wouldn't end up as a smashed watermelon.
At the centre of the pitch, Harry and Slytherin's Seeker, Terence Higgs, had both spotted the Golden Snitch.
They urged their broomsticks forward with all their might, tangling with each other as they hurtled toward that tiny golden ball.
Harry was originally a little faster, but just as he was about to catch the Snitch, Slytherin's Marcus Flint blocked him viciously.
The Golden Snitch flashed before Harry's eyes and, in the blink of an eye, darted off into the distance and vanished.
"Despicable and shameless!" Hagrid bellowed.
"How can he pull such a dangerous stunt!"
"Calm down, Hagrid.
Harry just missed catching the Snitch by a hair; next time he'll definitely succeed!"
Duncan hurried to soothe him.
Sitting next to a raging giant was truly a bit dangerous—enough to make one's heart pound.
"That's right, Harry will definitely win.
Shameless Slytherin!" Hagrid's beard bristled as he huffed.
"Wait, wait…" Ron suddenly began to shout, so anxious he sprang to his feet.
"Look at Harry—what's happening to him? He looks like he can't control his broom!"
"Harry shouldn't make such a foolish mistake, should he?" Hagrid quickly raised his binoculars to look.
Then he suddenly yelled, "Blimey, he really is—Harry's about to fall off his broom!"
"Quirrell is already in that ghastly state, and he still dares to make a move?" Duncan thought in surprise, reaching his hand to the side.
"Hagrid, let me borrow your binoculars."
"Oh—oh, right." Hagrid quickly passed them into Duncan's hand.
Duncan first raised the binoculars and looked toward Harry.
Harry's broom was shaking madly; his whole body was bobbing up and down in mid-air, and he looked about to be jolted off.
Duncan then swept the binoculars across the stands, searching for Quirrell.
But it wasn't as he had imagined—Quirrell wasn't casting a curse at Harry in the air.
Quirrell was sitting next to Professor Flitwick; the two now and then smiled and exchanged a few words, the atmosphere quite congenial.
"So this is Snape's doing?" Duncan found Snape not far from Quirrell.
Snape sat upright in a corner, watching the distance with a stern expression, his lips moving non-stop, murmuring under his breath.
"So it really is Snape? Why would he do that? Did Quirrell ask him to?" Duncan frowned in thought.
He wanted to interrupt Snape and save Harry, but he was afraid it was Snape and Dumbledore's scheme, and that he would ruin their plan.
"Right—where's Dumbledore?" Duncan shifted his gaze to the seat next to Professor McGonagall; an empty space was there.
Dumbledore did not seem to be present at the pitch.
"What wicked plan are those two hatching?"
Duncan was perplexed; he simply didn't believe Snape would do something behind Dumbledore's back.
He thought for a moment and quietly took his wand into his hand, ready to save Harry in an emergency.
"Harry's broom really does seem to have a problem.
Should we ask Madam Hooch to pause the match?" Neville said anxiously.
At this moment Harry had already started hanging one-handed from his broom, going up and down as though exercising his arm strength.
Ron hesitated slightly and replied, "If the match can't go on, Madam Hooch will definitely call a time-out."
Hermione noticed that Duncan had been using the binoculars to look left and right all along.
Curious, she scooted next to him and asked, "Have you found anything wrong?"
Duncan had just opened his mouth to answer when sudden cries of alarm rose from the pitch.
"Oh no—Harry's fallen!" Ron shouted.
"Ah?" Hermione's eyes widened; she seemed to turn to stone as she watched Harry plunging straight toward the ground.
Duncan knitted his brows and waited a moment.
Seeing that Dumbledore made no move, his wand quietly lifted and pointed forward.
The grass blades on the ground seemed to inflate, shooting upward, intertwining with one another and weaving into a soft bed.
Harry crashed heavily onto it, leaving a deep hollow, and then bounced back up into the air.
After bouncing back and forth a few times, Harry steadied himself atop the soft bed and hurriedly raised his hand.
"I caught the Golden Snitch!"
The stands fell silent for a heartbeat, then erupted into thunderous cheers, as Gryffindor students clapped with all their might.
Snape, seeing that Harry was safe and sound, secretly let out a breath, while Quirrell's face was black as thunder, full of displeasure.
Only Hermione in the stands had seen Duncan's casting; her eyes fixed on Duncan, full of shock.
"Remember to keep it secret.
This is our secret," Duncan said with a smile, lowering his voice to Hermione.
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