Inside the roaring Quidditch stadium—
"Oh my God! Look!"
"The Golden Snitch has appeared!"
"If either team catches it now, this match will end instantly!"
"There'll be no chance for a comeback!"
The commentator's voice nearly exploded from excitement.
"And there he goes!"
"Harry Potter—the controversial yet wildly popular first-year wizard—is pursuing the Snitch at full speed on his broom!"
"Can this young Seeker create a miracle today?!"
"Let's find out!"
The entire stadium erupted into deafening cheers.
Meanwhile, in the Gryffindor stands, Hermione, Ron, and the others watched nervously as Harry chased the Golden Snitch through the air.
Ron clenched his fists tightly.
"Come on, Harry…"
"You're almost there!"
"Just a little closer and Gryffindor wins!"
Hermione's eyes remained fixed on the sky.
The match had already reached its decisive moment.
The instant Harry caught the Golden Snitch, victory would be guaranteed.
"Come on, Harry…" she whispered quietly.
Unfortunately, the opposing Seeker had also spotted the Snitch.
He immediately accelerated toward Harry at incredible speed, clearly intending to slam into the younger boy midair and knock him straight off his broom.
But Harry didn't dodge.
Over the past several days, Snape's relentless pressure and intimidation had already pushed him to the edge.
At this moment, all that frustration erupted completely.
Instead of retreating, Harry charged directly toward the other Seeker.
The opposing player looked utterly stunned.
This was the first time he had ever encountered a first-year student insane enough to ram another Seeker head-on.
More importantly—
He suddenly realized he couldn't outrun Harry.
Before he could even process that horrifying realization, Harry violently shoulder-checked him aside.
The older Seeker nearly lost control of his broom entirely.
Ron stared upward in confusion.
"…Did Harry accidentally imagine that guy was Snape?"
After sending the opposing Seeker flying away, Harry focused entirely on the Golden Snitch once more.
It was right there.
Only a short distance ahead.
One final burst of speed and the match would end.
Then suddenly—
Harry's broom jerked violently sideways.
His expression changed instantly.
The broom began swaying wildly through the air as though an invisible force had seized control of it.
Harry barely managed to keep himself from falling.
Unfortunately, that momentary struggle caused him to miss the perfect opportunity to catch the Snitch.
And things only became worse.
The broom now twisted violently in every direction, desperately trying to throw Harry into the stadium below.
"Oh no!"
"If this continues, Harry Potter is going to fall!"
"The match may already be over!"
Ron panicked immediately.
"Hermione, what do we do?!"
Hermione forced herself to remain calm and quickly analyzed the situation.
"Brooms don't lose control randomly," she said firmly.
"And the timing is too strange."
Her eyes narrowed.
"Someone is cursing Harry's broom."
The moment Ron heard that, his thoughts instantly reached one conclusion.
Snape.
Obviously Snape.
Who else could it possibly be?
Ron immediately scanned the stands like a hunting dog.
Soon, he spotted Snape seated within the professors' section across the stadium.
The Potions Master stared intently toward Harry while muttering something beneath his breath.
Ron immediately grabbed Hermione's sleeve and pointed furiously.
"It's him!"
Hermione's expression darkened.
She never expected Snape to be cruel enough to attack Harry publicly in front of the entire school.
Still, there was no time to hesitate.
If they did nothing now, Harry would die.
Then suddenly, Hermione's eyes lit up.
She leaned close to Ron and whispered a quick plan into his ear.
Ron immediately looked horrified.
"…Will that actually work?"
"What other choice do we have?" Hermione snapped.
Before Ron could answer, she immediately sprinted toward the professors' stands.
Seeing this, Ron hesitated briefly before chasing after her.
After all, Harry was his friend.
He couldn't just stand there doing nothing.
.....
Meanwhile—
Logan finally returned to the stadium entrance while panting heavily.
The Quidditch match had clearly already reached its climax.
The moment he looked upward and saw Harry violently shaking atop his broom, Logan instantly understood what was happening.
"So it's already reached this point…"
Because Logan entered from the opposite side near the professors' and Slytherin sections, he would need to circle halfway around the stadium to reach the Gryffindor stands.
But before he could move further, he suddenly noticed Hermione and Ron sneaking beneath the elevated seating area.
Logan paused immediately.
What are they doing?
Curious, he quietly followed after them.
Then he peeked through the gap.
Hermione carefully slipped behind the curtains beneath the professors' section.
With impressive familiarity, she raised her wand and aimed directly toward Snape's boots.
"Incendio!"
BOOM!
Because of Logan's previous encouragement and guidance in the library, Hermione's mastery over the Fire-Making Spell had improved dramatically.
Unfortunately, that also meant her magical output occasionally became difficult to control.
A massive burst of flames instantly exploded beneath Snape's feet.
The Potions Master practically launched himself into the air.
And in the chaos—
Snape's panicked fist accidentally slammed directly into the person beside him.
Quirinus Quirrell.
BAM!
The Defence professor got punched so hard that he nearly collapsed sideways.
Quirrell sat there completely stunned.
"…What?"
He touched his nose slowly.
Blood.
His brain nearly stopped functioning.
Wasn't he supposed to be secretly cursing Harry's broom right now?
Why did Snape suddenly punch him in the face?!
A terrifying realization immediately surfaced inside Quirrell's mind.
Did Snape discover my secret?
Was he pretending all along?!
Had he secretly been waiting for the perfect opportunity to attack me?!
Quirrell instantly shot a sinister glare toward Snape.
Then he froze.
Because Snape himself was currently screaming while hopping around frantically trying to extinguish the fire consuming his boots.
.....
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