When Lynn returned to the entrance of the Great Hall, the students who had been waiting for a long time immediately swarmed around him, asking all at once:
"Lynn! Why did Headmaster Dumbledore's Phoenix come looking for you?"
"Did you get into big trouble?"
"What did the Principal say to you?"
Lynn laughed it off, easily fooling them with the excuse he had prepared earlier:
"It's nothing big! The Principal was just checking in on my studies and asking if I had any suggestions for the teaching environment at Hogwarts… He probably thinks we Hufflepuffs are good observers of life! Haha, break it up, break it up, class is about to start!"
…
The ripples caused by the Troll incident were like a stone thrown into the Black Lake; within a few days, they were replaced by a new hot topic.
Hogwarts' annual Quidditch season had officially begun!
"Lynn, wake up! Don't you have 'extracurricular tutoring' with Professor Quirrell this morning?"
Edgar looked at Lynn, who was still fast asleep in bed, wrapped in his quilt like a silkworm cocoon, and gave him a hard shove.
Lynn mumbled incoherently in his sleep: "No need… the Professor said… there's a Quidditch match today… day off…"
His voice grew smaller and smaller, and the last few words almost melted into his snoring.
To the ears of Edgar, William, and Ollie, it turned into a string of meaningless syllables:
"To*()%-5$%%&… day."
"Oh," Edgar nodded as if he understood, then became excited again. "Then are you still going to watch the Quidditch match? Gryffindor versus Slytherin—it's the first game!"
William and Ollie, standing nearby, looked at Edgar with astonishment: You can actually extract useful information from that string of sleep-talking?
Actually, he hadn't understood at all, but following the philosophy of "if Lynn isn't worried, why should I be," he just guessed the most likely answer.
Lynn, lying in bed, was completely awake now, and his brain began functioning slowly.
Quidditch match? He thought about it. Since the "Dark Arts Tutoring Class" was canceled today and fishing always resulted in an empty net… since he was free anyway, he might as well go see it.
"Scourgify!"
He pulled out his wand and waved it at himself. Instantly, he went from bleary-eyed to refreshed and jumped out of bed nimbly.
"Let's go. The match should be starting soon. Sigh, it's a pity we have to wait until next year to be eligible for house team tryouts."
As Lynn straightened his robes, he spoke with a hint of regret.
The Quidditch Pitch was already bustling with people. The stands were almost full of students from all four houses and all years. Flags fluttered, and cheers and boos intertwined in a heated atmosphere.
As the group found their seats, Edgar's sharp eyes spotted a familiar figure.
"Cedric! You're here to watch the match too!"
Edgar enthusiastically greeted a tall, handsome senior nearby.
It was Hufflepuff's star student, Cedric Diggory.
Cedric turned his head. "Oh, Edgar. Yes, this is the first Quidditch match of the term. I heard Harry Potter was exceptionally made the Gryffindor Seeker, so I came to take a look. After all, 'know yourself and know your enemy, and you will never be defeated.'"
His gaze then fell on Lynn beside Edgar, with a hint of curiosity. "This is… Lynn? Edgar often mentions you to me, saying your Quidditch skills are very strong and your flying technique is superb.
How about it? Are you interested in joining our Hufflepuff house team next year? We need fresh blood. Oh, right, Edgar also told me you have a—"
"Cough, cough! Cough, cough, cough!"
Edgar suddenly burst into a violent fit of coughing, his face turning red as he quickly interrupted Cedric's speech.
Lynn's head snapped toward Edgar: He wanted to say broom just now, didn't he? It must be!
Receiving Lynn's death stare, Edgar hurriedly mouthed a silent defense:
I… I only said you had a very powerful broom! We were having too much fun that day and I accidentally let it slip! Really nothing else! I swear!
Just then, the commentator Lee Jordan's voice rang through the stadium:
"And now—the players enter the field!"
The Gryffindor and Slytherin players flew onto the pitch on their broomsticks.
In the Gryffindor team, that thin figure wearing glasses was particularly conspicuous—the Seeker was indeed Harry Potter.
The match officially began, and Lee Jordan's passionate commentary accompanied the game:
"The Quaffle is immediately taken by Gryffindor's Angelina Johnson! That girl is a truly excellent Chaser, and she's so charming—"
"Jordan!" Professor McGonagall's warning voice rang out immediately.
"Sorry, Professor," Lee Jordan apologized without any sincerity.
The match continued, and Harry's speed was noticeably faster than the Slytherin Seeker's.
Then typical Slytherin style began to play out—various little tricks and fouls.
"So after that obvious and despicable bit of cheating—"
"Jordan!"
"I mean, after that open and revolting foul—"
"Jordan, I'm warning you—"
"Alright, alright, Flint nearly killed the Gryffindor Seeker, which I'm sure could happen to anyone," Lee Jordan finally snarked sarcastically.
Lynn, watching from the stands with a confused expression, nudged Cedric beside him and asked in a low voice:
"Are Quidditch… rules allowed to be played like this? What's the difference between this and just getting into a fistfight?"
A look of helplessness and slight disdain appeared on Cedric's face.
"Well… usually only Slytherin does this. To win, they can sometimes be a bit… 'unconventional.'"
He didn't continue, but Lynn understood perfectly—they were just being completely shameless.
"Look! What's wrong with Harry Potter's broom?!"
William suddenly shouted, pulling Lynn's thoughts back.
Harry's broom began to jerk and roll uncontrollably, trying to buck him off. The situation looked extremely critical.
"It's obviously been cursed."
Lynn crossed his arms and said it as if it were a given, in a "why even ask" tone.
"Really? Then what should we do? He won't fall off, will he?" Edgar nervously grabbed Lynn's arm.
Lynn rolled his eyes helplessly and pointed toward the staff seats. "Look at the teachers' stand… see that old man with the white beard?"
He was, of course, referring to Dumbledore, who sat calmly as if everything were under control.
"I see him…" Edgar answered blankly.
"Then what are you worried about?" Lynn patted his shoulder.
Sure enough, not long after Lynn spoke—
The next second, they saw Harry suddenly dive. In a near-ground, incredibly thrilling flight posture, before anyone could react, he covered his mouth and then… swallowed the Golden Snitch?
Lynn's mouth twitched: What a gluttonous boy… are you catching the Snitch or eating it?
Lee Jordan's voice, cracking with excitement, echoed through the sky:
"Harry Potter has caught the Golden Snitch! Gryffindor wins, one hundred and seventy points to sixty!"
The Gryffindor stands instantly turned into a sea of joy, while on the Hufflepuff side, Lynn simply shrugged and gave his evaluation of this match full of surprises and "outside factors":
"Well, the result is good, but the process… was quite a show."
---
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