Chapter 192 – Quidditch Match(Part 2)
"That's Katie Bell, the Gryffindor team's Chaser, flying over the pitch, weaving past Flint!"
"Wow! She just took a Bludger to the back of the head—ouch, that must've hurt! The Quaffle's been snatched away by a pair of Slytherins—Derrian Pucey, racing for the goalpost! But—he's hit by another Bludger, courtesy of the Gryffindor twins, George and Fred Weasley. Hard to tell those two apart, as always."
"The Gryffindor counterattack was brilliant! Johnson reclaimed the Quaffle—no one blocking her! She speeds forward, dodges a Bludger, the goalpost ahead—Angelina dives toward Slytherin's Keeper, Bletchley—she shoots—misses! Wait—no, it's in! Gryffindor scores!"
Cheers erupted from the Gryffindor section like a festival, shaking the chilly air with their intensity.
Across the pitch, groans and murmurs rose from the Slytherin stands.
Meanwhile, Phineas noticed Hagrid making his way over to the Gryffindor area and sitting beside Ron and Neville.
They exchanged a few words before turning their binoculars toward Harry.
Harry was flying slowly, eyes darting around—he clearly hadn't spotted the Golden Snitch yet.
If Gryffindor scored, he'd do a loop-the-loop in celebration. If Slytherin did, he'd slump in disappointment.
Suddenly—he accelerated! Picking up speed fast, his broom zipped through the air. Phineas caught a glimmer of gold ahead of him.
That had to be the Snitch—Harry had found it.
Naturally, Harry's pursuit drew attention from the Slytherin team. Flint even rammed him deliberately, knocking his broom off course.
"Foul!"
The Gryffindor section erupted with outrage. Flint had truly crossed the line this time.
"That was an obvious and disgraceful foul—"
The voice came from the commentator's booth. It was, of course, Lee Jordan, still on duty as the Hogwarts commentator.
"Jordan!"
Professor McGonagall's voice cut in sharply. "Commentary should remain neutral—"
"I mean—after that blatant foul—"
Jordan clearly wasn't backing down, eager to defend Harry.
"Jordan! This is your final warning—"
"Fine, fine! Flint nearly knocked Gryffindor's Seeker out of the sky. Anyway—Gryffindor gets a penalty. Spinnet takes the Quaffle, passes—smooth delivery! Game continues, Gryffindor retains possession!"
As Jordan continued, Phineas finally saw what he had come to witness.
Harry's broomstick began to shake violently, as if it had gone rogue. He clutched the handle tightly with both hands, struggling to stay aloft.
It wasn't a problem with the Nimbus Two Thousand—a top-tier broom used in international matches.
But Harry's control was slipping fast. The broom swerved left and right, jolting unpredictably, threatening to toss him at any moment.
"Slytherin scores! Flint takes the Quaffle again! Around Spinnet, around Bell—ouch! He just caught a Bludger to the face! Hope his nose is intact—just kidding, Professor! Anyway, Slytherin scores again!"
Jordan's light tone faltered as he caught sight of Harry's situation.
Others noticed too. Students in the stands were pointing, gasping, watching Harry spinning and twisting uncontrollably in midair.
Suddenly, he was flung from the broom—but one hand caught the handle. He dangled high above the pitch, hanging by sheer grip.
Phineas glanced from Harry to the staff stands. Sure enough, he saw Professor Quirrell watching Harry intently, scarf wrapped tightly around his head.
In front of him sat Professor Snape, also staring at Harry.
This confirmed some of Phineas's earlier suspicions. At this time, Professor Quirrell was still the Professor Quirrell who taught them Muggle Studies, not the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor who was loyal to the dark lord.
Quirrell had claimed to leave Hogwarts on an expedition, but in truth, he'd gone to seek out the Dark Lord. Dumbledore knew this. Phineas knew. Even Professor McGonagall had her suspicions.
Quirrell's return with the ever-present scarf was a clear sign—he had found the Dark Lord, who was likely now parasitizing him.
Still, Phineas and others weren't sure whether Quirrell had truly turned traitor.
At the recent Halloween feast, a Defense Against the Dark Arts professor had fainted during the troll attack—highly suspicious.
And now, someone was attempting to kill Harry in full view of the students, professors, and Dumbledore himself. That raised more alarm.
Phineas recalled the words Quirrell had shouted during the Halloween incident—"I thought you should know."
It wasn't hard to believe that Quirrell might still be on their side—that he was pretending loyalty to the Dark Lord as part of a greater plan.
He had allowed the Dark Lord to possess him, and brought him back to Hogwarts.
Whether or not this plan would cost Quirrell his life, it didn't matter. He likely didn't expect to live long anyway.
The Dark Lord, ever since that night at the Potters', had been a disembodied soul. Dumbledore knew that. And he knew how hard it was to destroy such an enemy.
Quirrell's plan was to give the Dark Lord a body. With a body, he could be killed.
Quirrell's true goal was to destroy him—permanently.
But Phineas knew the truth. The Dark Lord wouldn't be defeated that easily. As long as his Horcruxes existed, his soul couldn't be destroyed.
Even if he were struck down, he would return—again and again.