Malfoy looked at Harry in astonishment.
Often, the people who understand you best aren't your friends, but your enemies. So Malfoy knew clearly that Harry wasn't joking with him.
But he still asked.
"Potter, are you serious?"
"Of course, as long as you don't behave as disgracefully as Flint did.
But you're a Malfoy!
I assume you wouldn't stoop to associating with such a simpleminded brute."
Harry spoke with a contemptuous glance at Flint.
In that moment, Malfoy suddenly felt that Harry was absolutely right.
"Alright!"
He nodded. "I accept."
"A wise decision."
Harry smiled slightly, then flew away on his Firebolt.
Malfoy watched Harry's retreating figure, his expression complex.
As Lee Jordan's commentary rang out, the match resumed.
"Angelina Johnson has secured the Quaffle for Gryffindor!
Go, Angelina, go!"
Harry looked up to see every Slytherin player rushing toward Angelina—except for Malfoy, who was sticking close to him.
Even the Slytherin Keeper had charged out.
Clearly, they all wanted to block her and prevent Gryffindor from extending their lead.
While the Golden Snitch hadn't yet appeared, Harry decided he needed to do something.
He took a deep breath, locked onto his target, and without hesitation turned the Firebolt around, charging straight at the Slytherin players.
In that moment, Harry flattened himself completely against the broomstick, shooting forward like a bullet from a gun.
The Slytherin players yelped in alarm and scattered to the sides, clearing a path for Angelina.
"Brilliant! Gryffindor's Seeker Potter has cleared the obstacles for Angelina!
Excellent, Angelina doesn't disappoint Potter—she scores!
Gryffindor leads one hundred to twenty!"
Harry nearly crashed into the stands.
But with his skilled technique and the Firebolt's excellent braking capability, he managed to slide to a halt in midair and wheel back toward the center.
Just then, Malfoy suddenly shouted. "Potter!"
Harry whipped his head around to see Malfoy diving, his face bearing a victorious expression.
Below him, just feet above the grass, gleamed a tiny speck of gold.
The Golden Snitch had appeared!
Harry hadn't expected that Malfoy would actually alert him upon spotting the Snitch.
Though his movement was so obvious that the warning hardly mattered.
Still, this made Harry realize that Malfoy had changed.
Beyond that, Malfoy was much closer to the Snitch than he was, and the shout likely carried some element of showing off.
He was trying to tell Harry that he'd already won.
Naturally, Harry wouldn't give up.
If he gave up now, the match would effectively be over.
With that thought, he urged the Firebolt into an accelerating dive.
Sherlock's words from before the match echoed in his ears.
"Never make it about competing with others. You need to win against yourself."
At this moment, Malfoy had disappeared from Harry's vision, along with opponents and teammates on the pitch.
His eyes held only that tiny Golden Snitch, and one powerful thought.
Catch up to it. Catch it!
Two Bludgers came hurtling toward him, one after the other, just like before.
But Harry's performance now was completely different from earlier—everything around him seemed to slow down.
He flattened himself against the broomstick and easily dodged the first one.
A slight adjustment of the broom, and he effortlessly avoided the second.
Smooth and effortless.
Harry evaded the Bludger attacks.
Harry caught up to Malfoy's feet.
Harry drew level with Malfoy.
Malfoy was shocked.
What—how could he corner so fast!
Even so, his face still wore a victorious smile.
Because the Golden Snitch was within reach.
Malfoy stretched his right hand forward and thrust out his left to block Harry.
"Potter, you're finished!"
Malfoy laughed confidently.
He could finally defeat Harry fair and square!
He couldn't help stealing a glance at Harry.
Just that one glance, and he was startled by Harry's expression.
Because Harry's face was tense, his gaze unwavering, his eyes seemingly containing only the Golden Snitch.
Those who truly want to win don't wear smiles on their faces.
What shocked Malfoy even more was that Harry released his grip on the broomstick with both hands, directly locking onto his arm.
Something astonishing happened—Malfoy discovered that Harry was incredibly strong!
With just his right arm, Harry firmly held him down.
Why—why was he so strong?
"No—!"
Malfoy cried out in despair.
The next moment.
"Got it!"
Harry straightened up abruptly, raising his right hand high above his head in his signature victory gesture.
The small golden ball was clutched tightly in his hand, its wings beating desperately.
Harry maintained this pose, flying high above the crowd, still hearing strange whooshing sounds in his ears.
The entire field erupted.
Wood was fastest—he rushed over with tears streaming down his face, threw his arms around Harry's neck, and wept freely on his shoulder.
Harry felt two heavy impacts as Fred and George collided with him.
Then came Angelina, Alicia, and Katie's voices. "We won the Cup! We won the Cup!"
Both his cheeks were kissed multiple times by the three girls during this.
Multiple arms tangled together as the Gryffindor team embraced, shouting hoarsely as they descended to the ground.
Simultaneously, waves of red surged over the barriers and flooded onto the pitch, countless hands raining down on their backs like drops of water.
Amid the chaos, Harry felt many voices and bodies pressing against him, and then he and the other players were lifted high by the crowd.
Elevated above the throng, Harry spotted Hagrid, draped in bright red roses, tears streaming down his face.
He saw Percy, currently embracing Penelope, jumping up and down like a madman, completely forgetting his usual dignity.
And Professor McGonagall, crying even harder than Hagrid, wiping her eyes with a large Gryffindor banner.
In some unnoticed corner, a large black dog stood upright on its hind legs.
Cho Chang and Ginny were too excited for words, simply gazing at him with smiles.
Hermione and Ron stood beside Sherlock, desperately trying to push their way toward Harry.
But the crowd was too frenzied at the moment.
After struggling for a while, Hermione only managed to push herself into Sherlock's arms.
Eventually she gave up helplessly.
And then there was the person most important to Harry—Sherlock.
His expression was calm, but his gray eyes were shining brightly.
Harry understood that this friend, who wasn't good at expressing emotions, must be just as happy as he was at this moment.
At this moment, aside from Sherlock, no one paid attention to Slytherin anymore.
Sherlock looked toward the other side of the pitch, where all seven Slytherin Quidditch players hung their heads dejectedly, looking utterly deflated, as if all their strength had been drained. Even team captain Marcus Flint didn't scold Malfoy anymore.
Professor Snape in the stands looked so grim he could wring water from his face.
A stark contrast to Professor McGonagall, who was crying tears of joy.
And those two hundred or so people in the stands—while not as devastated as the Quidditch players, they were equally listless.
Only Gemma and a handful of others maintained relatively normal expressions, barely salvaging some dignity for Slytherin.
As the greatest contributor to this match, while the other Quidditch players were set down, Harry remained held in the air all the way to the stands.
The tall headmaster Dumbledore stood there, holding the massive Quidditch Cup, watching Harry with a fatherly smile.
When Captain Wood received the trophy from Dumbledore, he cried out loudly.
But no one laughed at him this time.
Three years—a full three years!
He had finally achieved his dream of winning the Quidditch Cup.
The trophy passed from player to player, and Harry was finally set down.
The sobbing Wood handed the Quidditch trophy to Harry.
Harry accepted the trophy and raised it high.
Cheers erupted throughout the entire pitch in that instant.
Just then, two girls sneaked into the group.
"Congratulations, Harry!"
Cho Chang and Ginny said, then did something they'd never done before.
Each took one of Harry's arms and kissed his cheek.
Though Angelina, Alicia, and Katie had all kissed Harry just moments ago, Harry trembled at this moment.
Because he distinctly felt that Cho Chang and Ginny were different from his three female teammates.
He quickly looked at the two girls, only to find their faces streaked with tears, yet smiling brilliantly.
Kisses and tears, a sweet taste.
Like a moth to flame, never regretting.
Years later, Gryffindor had once again raised the massive Quidditch Cup high.
This event, like a blazing fire, kept the entire house excited for a full half month without diminishing.
The little lions' nostrils were filled with the scent of victory, and even the sky they gazed upon seemed exceptionally generous in its blueness, as if every ray of sunlight from the heavens was cheering for them.
During the day, Hogwarts Castle basked in scorching sunlight, warm vapor rising from the stone pathways.
Such fine weather made one want to grab a few pints of iced pumpkin juice and wander to the neatly trimmed lawn to plop down.
Perhaps they could set up a game of wizard's chess with friends and watch the pieces brandish their little swords and charge at each other.
Or sit by the Black Lake and watch the giant squid that lived there glide slowly beneath the surface with its dreamy silver-blue glow.
Unfortunately, these beautiful visions could only remain at the thought level.
With final exams approaching, even though the young wizards' hearts yearned for the outdoor sunshine, they could only obediently retreat into the castle to battle the mountains of review materials in the library and common rooms.
In this atmosphere permeated with the scent of ink and tension, Sherlock brought Harry through the spiral staircase to the headmaster's office.
"Please, sit!"
Dumbledore's eyes lit up when he saw Sherlock and Harry.
He waved his wand lightly, and two cups of pumpkin juice, emanating wisps of coldness, slid across the smooth mahogany table.
Harry immediately thanked him and eagerly grabbed a cup for a large gulp.
The icy sweet liquid sliding down his throat instantly dispelled the fatigue from studying, making him feel his entire being relax from its taut state.
"Winning the Quidditch Cup feels good, doesn't it?"
Dumbledore stroked his silvery white beard, asking with a smile, his blue eyes were twinkling warmly behind his spectacles.
Harry nodded vigorously, thought for a moment, and decided to speak honestly.
"If Dementors appeared nearby then, I definitely could have produced the world's best Patronus."
"Remus would be very gratified to hear that—he often tells me how remarkable your progress has been."
Dumbledore turned to Sherlock, his smile spreading through his bushy beard. "I hear your Patronus is a lion?"
"That's right."
"Truly worthy of being called the Lion King," Dumbledore laughed heartily, then looked at Harry. "And what about you, Harry?"
At this mention, Harry's cheeks flushed slightly, scratching his head somewhat embarrassedly.
"I still can't see its exact form clearly, but it should be an animal with four legs and a tail."
"Don't be discouraged. Being able to produce a corporeal Patronus at your age is already quite an achievement."
Dumbledore encouraged warmly, then his expression gradually became serious, his gaze turning to Sherlock.
"Coming here today—are you ready to handle the matter with Horace?"
"That's right, sir."
"You specifically brought Harry along. It seems our thoughts coincide."
"Obviously."
Dumbledore suddenly sighed softly. "Sometimes, I feel quite despicable."
"I think so too," Sherlock replied without hesitation.
(°°;)
Harry's eyes widened, nearly spitting out his pumpkin juice.
Dumbledore also froze momentarily, then smiled bitterly and shook his head, the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes creasing into gentle furrows. "What do you need me to do?"
"Just take us there."
"Only that?"
"Yes, take us there, then you can find an excuse to leave. Leave the rest to us."
"Haha, I knew entrusting this matter to you was absolutely the right choice."
"When do we depart? Now?"
"No, no, Sherlock. June is almost here."
Dumbledore waved his hand, his tone becoming solemn. "I cannot let this affect any student's normal studies. You need to focus on preparing for exams."
"So we wait until summer vacation?"
"Yes, Harry must stay on Privet Drive for at least a month. I'll come to collect you then."
"That sounds reasonable." Sherlock nodded slightly.
"Wait! Please wait!"
Watching the two of them settle everything with their back-and-forth, Harry finally couldn't contain himself and spoke up urgently.
"Sir, Sherlock, what do you mean the time hasn't come yet? And where are you taking me?"
Harry's face was full of confusion and urgency, even his fingers gripping the cup tightened.
"What—what are you talking about?"
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