Although Malfoy had promised Gemma that he would apologize to Harry and Colin, he kept finding various excuses to delay the matter.
But Gemma wasn't easily fooled.
Eventually, Malfoy had no choice but to promise that after this Quidditch match, he would apologize to both of them.
He chose this timing because he believed Slytherin would defeat Gryffindor in this game.
Under those circumstances, offering a small apology while riding high on victory wouldn't be such a big deal.
Just as Malfoy was imagining himself looking down condescendingly, magnanimously apologizing to a dejected Harry and Colin who would be too dispirited from their defeat to accept it properly—
Harry, who had been cruising around in the air, suddenly turned his broomstick around to face him directly.
Malfoy snapped out of his daydream and sneered.
"Scarhead, you're not planning to ram into me, are you? Even if someone gave you the courage—"
Before he could finish his sentence, he saw Harry suddenly grip his broom with both legs and charge straight at him, despite riding an inferior broom compared to his own Nimbus 2000.
"Are you insane!"
Malfoy's face immediately changed color.
As the distance between them closed, he noticed Harry's fierce expression and overwhelming momentum, as if he might transform into a werewolf at any moment and bite him savagely.
At this moment, he couldn't help but recall the last time Harry had punched him.
Harry had worn exactly this same expression then!
Under Malfoy's incredulous gaze, Harry had already begun shouting.
"Gryffindor will win!"
"Oh no, he's serious!"
Malfoy thought that Slytherin's consecutive scoring had made Harry so furious that he wanted to vent his anger on him.
While gasping heavily, he hurriedly maneuvered his broomstick to dodge Harry.
While evading, he mentally cursed Marcus Flint.
It must have been that guy's forceful collision with Harry last year that made Harry hold a grudge, so today he was retaliating against him instead.
However, the next moment, Malfoy saw Harry suddenly extend one hand, making a reaching-behind motion.
"Oh no!"
In that instant, Malfoy suddenly realized what was happening.
He frantically tried to control his broom, attempting to do something.
But it was already too late.
As Madam Hooch's whistle sounded, exclamations arose throughout the stadium.
Harry raised his right hand high, the cold golden Snitch firmly gripped in his palm.
"One hundred fifty to thirty, Gryffindor wins!"
Lee Jordan's naturally rhythmic, rap-like voice echoed from the commentary booth.
"Look at this man—his name is Potter!
He's the Boy Who Lived, the savior of the wizarding world, Gryffindor's boxing champion!
Slytherin's Seeker Malfoy hasn't even realized what happened yet!
Everyone, let's cheer to our hearts' content!"
In the Gryffindor stands, everyone cheered just as Jordan had said.
"Oh, my goodness, Sherlock, that was amazing! Just like you predicted!" Hermione excitedly hugged Sherlock. "We won! We won!"
"Yes, we won."
Sherlock's gaze remained fixed on the field.
He could see Marcus Flint shouting angrily at Malfoy, while Malfoy hung his head in silence. One could imagine his expression wasn't pleasant.
The other Slytherin members stood to the side with arms crossed, watching coldly without anyone stepping forward to intervene.
On the other side of the field, Harry was literally in the air—thrown up by the other Gryffindor team members.
Everyone was jubilant. Although the three girls didn't participate in tossing Harry, they were also dancing with excitement.
The two teams formed a stark contrast.
This match had ended quickly, second only to last year's second House Cup game.
In that match, with Professor Snape as referee, Harry had caught the Golden Snitch as fast as possible to avoid Snape's excessive favoritism toward the opposition.
Today's situation was much the same.
Due to the advantage of the Nimbus 2001, Wood had made it very clear before the match. quick victory!
Harry had delivered.
That Malfoy fellow must have actually believed he was going to knock him off his broom!
How ridiculous!
Since following Sherlock, Harry felt he had become much smarter.
So, he was eager to share his tactical thinking from the match with Sherlock.
However, when he finally reached Hogwarts castle, he encountered the person he least wanted to see at that moment.
Seeing the distinctive bright blue robes and handsome face, Harry inwardly groaned and tried to turn away.
Unfortunately, Professor Lockhart moved several times faster than usual in this situation.
He grabbed Harry with lightning speed that could steal bells from ears and break bamboo.
"I'm done for!"
At that moment, Harry's face turned ashen.
He knew exactly what he was about to endure.
The Gryffindor versus Slytherin Quidditch match had just concluded, and the stadium's excited atmosphere still echoed through the castle.
Young wizards gathered in the Great Hall, still buzzing with excitement from the game. Sunlight streamed through the stained-glass windows, casting a dreamy layer of light and shadow on the floor, with brilliant colors interweaving like a flowing painting.
At the center of this painting stood Gilderoy Lockhart and Harry Potter, whom he held tightly.
Lockhart affectionately patted Harry's shoulder and announced loudly to everyone around.
"Come here, can you all hear me? Everyone come here!
You know, just before this Quidditch match, Harry—the youngest Seeker in a century—came specifically to ask for my advice!
It was precisely because he successfully applied the tactics I taught him that he was able to achieve victory in such a short time!"
The familiar clicking sound of cameras continued as Colin took photos nearby.
Some people believed Lockhart's claims, while others were skeptical.
Lockhart clearly understood this.
"Although I'm your Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, I haven't told you that I was once an excellent Seeker myself, until I decided to abandon that identity to fight against the Dark Arts!"
Lockhart smiled happily, revealing a set of brilliantly white teeth, as if this situation made him happier than classroom teaching.
"Without a doubt, my experience can still bring you tremendous help!
Today's match has given me great inspiration. I announce that I will soon write a book about Quidditch—everyone please look forward to it!"
Harry didn't contradict Lockhart's claims.
Regardless of the process, it was true that he had sought Lockhart's advice before the match.
As for his claim that Harry won by successfully applying tactics, from a certain perspective, it wasn't entirely wrong.
After all, when he pretended to ram Malfoy off his broom, he had indeed referenced Lockhart's experience to some small degree.
The anti-slip potion and swishing charming hair didn't count.
He had certainly displayed the determination to win, just changing "Lockhart will prevail" to "Gryffindor will win."
As for the Golden Snitch voluntarily flying into his embrace...
You might as well believe Ron was Merlin's direct descendant.
Seeing Harry's tacit acceptance of Lockhart's claims and hearing about the upcoming book, the young wizards—especially the witches—cheered even more excitedly.
"How wonderful..."
In this atmosphere, Lockhart sighed genuinely. "This is the life I want..."
"Excuse me, Professor, what did you just say?"
"Nothing, Harry."
Lockhart looked down, once again revealing that row of gleaming teeth.
"Come with me. Next, I'll teach you lesson two on handling enthusiastic fans!"
"Huh?"
Harry was stunned.
What he most wanted to do right now was find Sherlock and share his tactical insights from defeating Malfoy on the Quidditch pitch.
This might sound childish.
But Harry was just a child.
Besides Sherlock, Harry most wanted to see Cho Chang.
He wanted to thank her for her encouragement before Halloween and this morning.
Unfortunately, the current situation was entirely under Lockhart's control.
Harry was powerless to resist and was forced to follow Lockhart away, surrounded by the crowding crowd.
"I hope Harry will be alright."
Ron watched this scene from outside the crowd and said irritably.
"How could Harry possibly be in trouble with Professor Lockhart?" Hermione immediately retorted.
"It's precisely because he's with Lockhart that I'm worried about him—he'll probably be dragged off to do unpaid labor again."
Ron made no effort to hide his disdain for Lockhart.
Even though it had now been proven that Lockhart was a competent Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Ron still detested his flashy behavior and his habit of wasting large amounts of class time on useless activities.
Especially since Lockhart had just mentioned that Harry had sought his advice before the match.
Acting as if Gryffindor's victory over Slytherin was all his doing.
However, after saying this, Ron's face broke into a smile again.
"But we finally won—thanks to Harry catching the Golden Snitch. Hehe, Malfoy's expression... he looked like he wanted to kill someone!"
"Sherlock, you never worried about this match from beginning to end. Did you already know the outcome?"
"Exactly, Hermione," Sherlock turned his gaze away from Harry and Lockhart. "I told you long ago that Harry is much stronger than Malfoy."
"Then... will we be able to win the Quidditch Cup this year?"
"Obviously."
Hermione nodded. Even Slytherin, the strongest team with seven Nimbus 2001s, had been defeated by Gryffindor. Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw would be even less of a challenge.
Ravenclaw's new Seeker, third-year Cho Chang, was a girl with great athletic talent, but she and the team were still in their adjustment period—though even if they got through that phase, she wouldn't be Harry's match unless Harry held back when he saw her.
Hufflepuff's Seeker, fourth-year Cedric Diggory, had long passed the adjustment period, but aside from Cedric, their team's overall level was even lower than Ravenclaw's.
Under these circumstances, Gryffindor winning this year's Quidditch Cup was virtually guaranteed.
"I hope there won't be any accidents this year..."
Hermione murmured.
Both Sherlock and Ron knew what she was referring to.
Last year, due to the Philosopher's Stone and Quirrell incident, Harry had missed the final match.
This forced Gryffindor to play short-handed, resulting in their worst defeat in three hundred years.
"That's impossible!"
Ron declared firmly. "If there's another accident this year, then let me—"
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