69novels Chapter 108 Opening
Chapter 108 Opening
Chapter 108 Opening
After seeing the three headmasters off, most of the young wizards finished their breakfast and headed straight for the Quidditch pitch.
This was the most intense Quidditch match yet, with Slytherin facing off against Gryffindor, two long-time rivals.
With Dumbledore and Flitwick both absent from the school, the two heads of Slytherin and Gryffindor sat in the center of the main table with cold faces, their expressions more somber than the gloomiest summer rainy night.
This led unsuspecting young wizards to mistakenly believe that they would have the privilege of witnessing a wizarding duel between heads before the Quidditch match.
Not only the Quidditch players entering the stadium, but also the students in the stands noticed that the two deans looked like they had been owed wages for eight hundred years.
The students were also surprised to find that even Professor Sprout of Hufflepuff didn't look too good!
To elicit such a reaction from the usually kind and amiable Professor Sprout. In an instant, countless stories of intrigue and conspiracy surged through the young wizards' minds; they seemed to smell a juicy gossip.
Since both leaders looked displeased, their underlings naturally had to fight more fiercely.
Harry Potter, who had only recently taken up the Seeker position, had never experienced anything like this before, not even during his first Quidditch match.
It ended with the Golden Thief being swallowed.
Facing Slytherin again, Harry vowed to teach them a lesson without needing a "gag."
Although he looked down on the Slytherin Quidditch team, thinking that the team members were not very good and relied on physical fights during the game to win.
Ultimately, physical conflict exists, and that's something he needs to be wary of. Harry thought to himself as he dodged a blow from the Slytherin batter.
This action drew loud boos from the stands, with everyone except a few extreme Slytherin supporters condemning this unfair playing behavior.
Snape and McGonagall looked even more displeased.
One felt ashamed, and the other felt angry.
The Quidditch match is still going on.
George and Fred rescued Harry from the brink of death at the last second, from under the Quaffle.
It may be because the name Harry Potter is too likely to attract hatred.
The Slanterling team members were now attacking Harry like madmen, leaving him no room to breathe and forcing him to run in a sorry state.
Exclamations of surprise rang out from the stands outside the stadium.
In the frantic dodge, Harry heard his classmates' screams and, during one of his dives, saw Snape's ashen and ferocious expression.
Faced with that terrifying expression, Harry was overwhelmed by the boundless rage beneath it, and for a brief moment lost all his energy and strength. His flying broomstick went straight down uncontrollably, forming a 45-degree angle with the ground.
Oh no... By the time he realized what was happening, it was too late to brake.
In addition to the initial panic and chaos in the stands, Percy's voice rang out again: "Watch out, Harry!"
I was trying to be careful too. Just as Harry was straining to shrink himself and desperately trying to raise the broom, a powerful force bound him, causing him to slowly fall.
Professor McGonagall may have saved me. He was about to look up to see what had happened.
A loud voice echoed throughout the Quidditch pitch: "Remain calm! The prefects, along with the upperclassmen, will organize all students to be quiet and maintain discipline."
That's Professor McGonagall's voice!
Harry suddenly realized something was wrong; he knew that a momentary loss of control wouldn't have caused such a serious incident as Professor McGonagall's statement.
The moment he looked up, he understood what had happened: three or five trolls had stormed into the Quidditch pitch.
In the distance, thick black smoke billowed from the windows of Hogwarts Castle.
It was as if, in an instant, the paradise of young wizards in the British Isles had been transformed into a hell of flowing lava and the smell of gunpowder.
How could this be? What on earth happened? Harry was stunned. His dreamlike paradise had been attacked.
Suddenly, I heard a whooshing sound behind my head.
Bound by magic, he could only turn his head with difficulty to dodge the incoming bat and the whistling Slytherin batter.
The Slytherin Quilsey players were acting strangely today, especially the two batters. Harry noticed that the batter's eyes were somewhat vacant, but his movements were unusually agile. He wielded the bat with great skill and precision.
Their batting technique was on a completely different level compared to the trolls wielding giant bats haphazardly at the other end of the Quidditch pitch.
But Harry didn't think these trolls were any less capable; on the contrary, he wished they were even more foolish.
Because these trolls came straight at him just like the two Slytherin Seekers.
"Faster, faster," he prayed softly, hoping to land as soon as possible and to escape the magic once he was on the ground.
But the troll, though bulky, moved at a surprisingly fast pace, quickly reaching Harry in a few strides. Its massive size caused a powerful tremor, and a wooden stick, even thicker than Harry's, hurtled straight towards the top of his head.
Many young wizards who witnessed this scene covered their eyes with their hands, afraid that they would see blood and flesh flying everywhere and brains splattering in the next second.
"I'm doomed!" Faced with such a crushing blow, even Harry, who had regained his mobility after landing on the ground, couldn't dodge it. His mind involuntarily began to reminisce about the past eleven years.
The faces of his uncle, aunt, and cousin Dali appeared before his eyes one after another.
It seems like dying is a good thing—
After experiencing some painful memories, Harry suddenly had this idea.
In just a moment, those things were replaced by the life I've had at Hogwarts these past few days.
"I must survive," he thought, and a force was born from the very marrow of his bones, causing him to roll on the spot and deviate five meters from his original position.
"Insolence!" A roar he had never heard before rang in his ears. Harry felt that the voice sounded familiar, but he couldn't quite place it.
The next instant, as if something invisible had severed space, Harry found the troll in front of him split in two from head to toe, with foul-smelling blood splattered everywhere, including some organs and secretions.
Harry, covered in the pungent liquid, vomited violently from the strong, pungent smell.
"Thank you for helping me." Although he couldn't recognize whose voice it was and was feeling nauseous, Harry still mustered all his strength to thank the person.
But his thanks went unanswered.
Footsteps passed by him, and Harry, who was lying on the ground vomiting, recognized the corner of the robe.
This wizard's robe belongs to Severus Snape, the headmaster of Slytherin and the potions professor at Hogwarts.
Harry was so surprised that he forgot to continue vomiting.
My mind was filled with doubt: Snape actually saved me!