The next morning, the weather was clear and cold. The smell of roasted sausages filled the hall, and everyone was eagerly chatting about the exciting upcoming Quidditch match—except for Gryffindor's brilliant first-year Seeker, Harry Potter.
He was still brooding over what had happened the day before. His two friends had gone behind his back and caused such trouble, and when he tried to get answers from Hermione, she had simply said, "This doesn't concern you. Focus on how to handle the Quidditch match tomorrow."
Harry poked at his sausage with his fork and sighed deeply.
"You have to eat something," one of his Gryffindor friends said, thinking that he was only worried about the upcoming match.
No one understands me.
Harry thought sadly and, in the calmest voice, rejected the offer to eat. "I don't feel like eating."
"How about some toast?" Hermione coaxed.
"I'm not hungry." Harry glanced at Hermione. He hadn't expected that, after what had happened last night, she could just act like nothing had happened. Even Ron had come to breakfast with a black eye.
Thinking of this, Harry looked at Ron's dark circles. Last night, only Ron had been hit, though Slytherin also lost 10 points and had two students in detention. But they both knew the true culprit was still at large.
No one had expected that after breaking the rules, there was actually a way to confess to the professors.
Sabbini and Crabbe had taken advantage of the fact that all the professors were in the staff lounge and had gone to Snape to report their "impulsive conflict with a classmate." After Snape reluctantly accepted their confession, Slytherin lost 10 points, and Sabbini and Crabbe were given a month of detention.
Another thing that was more discouraging to Harry was that Hermione had privately reported the issue of the Philosopher's Stone to Professor McGonagall, but it didn't seem to get enough attention. The events at the Clock Tower last night made Harry feel that Snape's true face was becoming even more despicable.
Suddenly, he felt a tap on his shoulder and turned to find Ron, still with dark circles under his eyes, meeting his gaze.
"Think about it, if we win, the looks on the Slytherins' faces will be priceless," Ron said, his eyes more determined than Harry had ever seen them—even more so than when they had heard about the Philosopher's Stone making gold. "Especially Snape! If you can catch the Golden Snitch, Harry! That would be a fair and just revenge!"
That's a good point!
The thought of Snape and the Slytherin students looking like they had swallowed a fly immediately made Harry feel hungry again.
"I'll catch the Golden Snitch!" Harry said firmly, taking a large bite of his sausage, thickly covered in ketchup.
"He didn't catch the Snitch; he almost swallowed it!" Even twenty minutes after the match had ended, Slytherin's Quidditch captain, Flint, was still complaining nonstop.
"Don't listen to him, Harry! That's the cry of the defeated," Ron slapped Harry on the shoulder. "160 to 10, and you caught the Snitch almost right at the beginning! I bet this match will rank among the fastest in all the house matches!"
"This is thanks to Flint," Harry said with an honest expression, raising his voice intentionally so that the nearby Slytherins could hear. "If it weren't for him bumping into me with his broomstick, I might have missed the Snitch."
"Pah! Let him enjoy it while it lasts! Next match, he won't be so lucky!" Flint spat on the ground and walked off with the other Slytherin players.
"Hahaha," the Gryffindors around Harry laughed loudly at the sight of their opponents' embarrassment.
"By the way, Harry," Ron added, "Hagrid came to watch your first match. He was sitting right next to us, but he didn't say a word; it was like he sewed his mouth shut." Ron shrugged. "He's still upset about what happened that day."
Maybe Hagrid is right, Harry thought. The Philosopher's Stone really isn't something we should be worrying about. Professor McGonagall and other professors have already put magic protections on it, and even Dumbledore is involved. It's completely safe at Hogwarts.
Harry quietly thought, maybe we should apologize to Hagrid sometime...
The celebration party in the Gryffindor common room went on for a long time, until Professor McGonagall appeared from behind the Fat Lady's portrait, and everyone immediately scattered.
"Did you know, Harry?" Ron said as he pulled the curtains around his bed. "I thought something might go wrong with your broom today, after all, Ivy completely took it apart. But now it seems like Ivy really knows what he's doing, at least it flew smoothly. …You know, after we graduate, what if we open a broom company with Ivy? You could be the mascot, Ivy could make the brooms, Hermione could handle the finances…"
"What about you?" Harry asked, momentarily distracted by Ron's fantasy, but after he asked, all he heard in response was Ron's snoring.
In the Potions classroom, Ivy had already gathered all the materials for the day's lesson and was preparing to leave.
"Doom, Mr. Doom," Snape called his name in a tone that Ivy had never heard before, short, without any elongation or emphasis.
Usually, Snape's words were meticulous and elegant, excessively polite, with an obvious hint of sarcasm. But if you were used to it, it somehow had a strange appeal, like "I really want to kiss your ass with my boot."
Normally, Ivy would imitate Snape's tone to retort, since Snape couldn't give him points anymore. Over time, Snape tried to avoid communicating with Ivy and would only briefly describe the potion materials at the start of detention.
So when Snape called him over, Ivy's expression seemed a little odd.
But Snape ignored this: "I hear you have an antique broom from the 19th century? Professor McGonagall and Madam Hooch have mentioned it more than once in the staff lounge."
Ivy nodded, showing he was listening.
"Good. Now you're part of the Slytherin Quidditch team," Snape said, not giving Ivy a chance to react. "From now on, you don't have to come here for detention. I only have one request for Quidditch: beat Gryffindor."
Before Ivy could respond, Snape shoved him out of the Potions classroom.