Wade didn't know that Professor Murray, having only met him once, had placed such high expectations on him. He was simply thrilled that his Alchemy studies, which had felt like fumbling in the dark, would now finally receive professional guidance.
Upon returning to the Great Hall, all four long tables were empty, with only a few students who had overslept eating breakfast leisurely. Today was Sunday, so most students wouldn't wake up early, and breakfast hours had been extended by half an hour accordingly.
Wade casually grabbed two sandwiches. Seeing West More, a sixth-year Ravenclaw prefect, at the end of a long table, he walked over and sat beside him. "Morning, West."
"Morning, Wade," West said lazily. "It's rare to see you sleep in."
Wade leaned forward, closer. "West, do you know who the Alchemy professor at the school is?"
"Of course, it's Professor Terence Morrie," West said. "I'm taking his advanced class this year—why do you ask?"
"Because I'm very interested in Alchemy, so I wanted to learn about it in advance." Wade didn't mention his morning encounter, instead asking, "Which one is Professor Murray? I don't recall anyone mentioning him when I first enrolled."
"That's because Professor Murray is usually not at school; you wouldn't see him at student enrollment or the Halloween Feast," West said matter-of-factly. "He's a renowned grand alchemist, rumored to be second only to Nicolas Flamel in Alchemy skill—though, of course, everyone agrees Nicolas Flamel is the greatest alchemist of our time, and there are at least five or six people who are called 'the second Nicolas Flamel.' But Professor Murray isn't one to seek fame; he genuinely has the goods."
West suddenly leaned in closer, lowering his voice and saying with longing, "Did you know? Professor Murray even has shares in Nimbus Racing Broom Company and Wizard Radio, is a distinguished guest of the famous singer Celestina Warbeck, and has collaborated with Ministries of Magic in various countries, participating in the renovation of at least three Ministries of Magic. Just this past Halloween, he was in France attending the Carcassonne Alchemy Symposium; only the most top-tier alchemists receive an invitation."
"So, for such a busy man—" West returned to his normal volume, "—it's already great that he can make time to teach us every week. It's impossible for him to live at school like other professors, and he rarely comes to the Great Hall for meals. But it's a very wise choice for you to start studying Alchemy now; that way, when you formally study with Professor Murray in sixth year, you'll definitely make a splash, and who knows, he might even take you on as a true apprentice, and you'll shoot right to the top!"
"Shoot to the top of what?" West's friend Benson suddenly said, appearing out of nowhere, his hair messy, and even toothpaste foam still on his face. He grabbed a pie from the table without waiting for West's answer, then urged, "Come on, let's go, we won't get good seats if we're late."
"Wait!" West took out his Wand and cast Scourgify on him, then said, "What's the rush? The Gryffindor and Slytherin match doesn't start for another half hour! And they're all flying in the air, so does it really matter where we sit?"
"How can it be the same? If only the seats behind the pillars are left, we won't see the exciting parts! And I don't want to sit with Slytherin..." Benson grumbled, pulling West and striding towards the stadium.
West turned back and called out, "Well, Wade, you'd better hurry too—"
Before he could finish, he was pulled out of the Great Hall.
Wade then realized that the reason there were so few people in the Great Hall wasn't because many students were sleeping in, but because most had gone to the Quidditch pitch. With so much happening since last night, he had completely forgotten that the first Quidditch match was today.
After Benson urged West to leave, the few students remaining in the Great Hall also seemed to realize the urgency of time, and they hurried out the door. Wade drank a cup of hot water that appeared out of thin air in front of him, then headed towards the Quidditch pitch.
Almost the entire school had gathered here, and many held binoculars to get a better view of the game. The stands were packed, with seats rising in tiers into the air. Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff students mingled with Gryffindors, while Slytherin students clustered together separately.
In the highest row, Gryffindor students had hung a gigantic banner with "Potter Wins" flashing in different colors, and someone had drawn a lifelike lion on it.
Players from both teams filed out of the changing rooms, and students across the entire pitch were shouting and applauding. Though only a few hundred people, their shouts had the force of a stadium of ten thousand. The players, like NBA stars, received encouragement and cheers from their respective houses.
Wade first ascended to the highest tier of the stands and quickly spotted his target—several professors who had come to watch the match, likely not wanting to be crowded with students, were gathered in one area. Professor Snape, especially, looking like a black raven, was easy to find.
So Wade soon saw Quirrell—he was very close to Professor Snape, a large scarf wrapped around his head, staring intently at Harry Potter, who was mounted on his broom. A blush spread across his pale face, as if he too was infected by the fervent atmosphere.
With Madam Hooch's whistle, players from both sides swiftly flew into the sky, instantly becoming tiny black specks. Almost all the students in the stands instinctively stood up, craning their necks upwards, trying to distinguish the players and occasionally gasping in response to the unfolding battle.
Wade struggled to push through the crowd, listening to Gryffindor student Lee Jordan's passionate commentary in his ear: "Flint didn't score! Gryffindor's Keeper Wood made a beautiful save—"
As the two teams' players attacked and defended back and forth, Wade had already squeezed near the section where the professors were seated. Then, hidden by the students on either side, he quietly extended his Wand, and with a quick flick and wave!
Quirrell was applauding Gryffindor's goal, smiling along with the professors next to him, completely oblivious to Snape's dark expression not far away.
Just as he was secretly preparing to cast a spell on Harry Potter's broom, his body suddenly lurched forward, tumbling uncontrollably down the stands, even knocking over several students.
It looked entirely as if Professor Quirrell, too excited while watching the match, had accidentally fallen.
People scrambled to help them up, and Quirrell was seen clutching his nose, two streams of blood flowing down.
"Are you alright, Professor Quirrell?" Professor Sprout asked with concern.
At the same time, Lee Jordan's ecstatic voice rang out—
"Harry Potter caught the Golden Snitch! Gryffindor wins one hundred seventy to twenty! This is a great victory! The great Harry Potter! In his first game as Seeker, he defeated the Slytherin team!"
Quirrell, his face covered in blood, abruptly turned his head, staring blankly at the celebrating Gryffindor team, completely forgetting to conceal his suddenly grim expression. Fortunately, everyone was cheering, and almost no one noticed the change in his demeanor.
"Almost," because Professor Snape, equally pale, was staring at him darkly.
And behind Quirrell, separated by several rows of people, Wade quietly retracted his Wand. He took one last look at Quirrell, then blended in with the excited students and returned to the castle.
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