Harry didn't rush to find Hagrid, after all, the Quidditch match was just around the corner.
All these years, he had only heard of Quidditch but had never played it himself.
It was all Black's fault! Harry thought, but thanks to Hogwarts, he finally could fulfill his wish.
The weather was sunny and cold the next day, even though the sun was shining brightly, the chill in the air was something the sunlight couldn't dispel.
Harry ordered a plate of roast sausages and a serving of baked beans with tomato sauce, eating slowly at the Gryffindor table.
A classic English breakfast, but very tasty.
"Have you guys noticed, no matter when, Harry always eats so elegantly," Neville remarked.
Harry nodded and smiled at Neville, thinking to himself, once you've been whacked by a stick for holding a fork the wrong way, you'll know how important elegance is.
Just then, the chatter at the Gryffindor table came to a halt.
Because Snape had arrived.
Harry wasn't sure when Snape had drifted to his side; by the time he looked up, Snape was already looking down at him.
"Good luck, Potter," Snape forced a smile: "Since you can handle the Giant, I suppose a little Quidditch match should be no problem, even if your opponent is Slytherin."
With that, Snape slapped the "Quidditch Origins" book on the table next to him.
"Thank you, Professor," Harry replied politely.
He quickly realized he had thanked too soon because Snape, for some reason, furrowed his brows again.
"You trespassed into the staff room yesterday; Gryffindor will have two points deducted for your giant-like reckless behavior—I presume if Mr. Potter's head wasn't filled with baked beans, he might remember today is Saturday."
Saturday, which meant today was detention in Snape's office day.
Watching Snape's limping figure walk away, Harry suddenly had the urge to pull out his magic wand.
"He certainly finds every excuse to dock points from Gryffindor, doesn't he?" Ron shrugged.
The Gryffindor students all heard about Snape docking points because of Harry, but none of them blamed Harry for it. Instead, they all looked at him with sympathetic eyes.
Seeing that it was time for the Quidditch match to start, the students filed out of the Great Hall and headed to the Quidditch pitch.
Almost the entire school had turned out, as well as some wizarding parents from outside, filling the stands around the Quidditch pitch to the brim.
After changing into their red Gryffindor uniforms, Harry and his teammates were approached by their captain, Oliver Wood.
"Nervous, Potter?" he asked.
Harry shook his head.
He certainly wasn't nervous; he was even well-prepared.
"Nervous is good, when I first played Quidditch I felt the same," Wood seemed to recite: "But..."
"Captain, he said he's not nervous," troublemaker Fred chimed in first.
"Neither are we," George followed immediately.
"Alright, boys—" Wood cleared his throat awkwardly.
Chaser Angelina Johnson suddenly said, "And girls."
"Right, and girls," Wood agreed.
Before he could finish, Fred interjected, "At this important moment."
"The moment we've all been waiting for," George added.
The tension that had been lingering in the team suddenly vanished with those two interruptions.
Everyone laughed lightly, and Harry, too, was infected by the atmosphere, joining in with the laughter.
"This is Oliver's speech from last year," Fred said to Harry, "I heard from Charlie, the year before he said the same thing; it seems every year it's the same script."
"Shut up, you two," Wood cleared his throat, glaring at them: "Now things are different, now we have Potter, and we will certainly achieve ultimate victory!"
Referee Mrs. Hooqi's whistle blew, and Wood said to them, "Time's up, folks, let's go kick Slytherin's butt!"
"Kick their butt!" everyone shouted in unison.
Harry was just looking forward to Quidditch; if he were to say he was nervous, well, maybe just a little bit.
He took two deep breaths and strode out behind Angelina.
"Look, Potter," Angelina suddenly pointed to the Gryffindor section and said to Harry, "See what that is?"
Harry looked in the direction Angelina pointed; Ron, Hermione, Seamus, and Neville were holding a large sheet with "Potter Must Win" written on it.
The background of the letters featured a huge Gryffindor Lion, which seemed to be the handiwork of Dean Thomas, known for his painting skills.
Hermione had also cast a spell on the banner, making it colorful and quite attractive.
Noticing Harry looking over there, his friends cupped their hands around their mouths like megaphones and shouted Harry's name together.
Harry stretched out his hand, responding to his friends over there.
What a wonderful thing, friendship, he thought.
"Listen, I hope you'll all participate fairly and honestly," Mrs. Hooqi said, her eyes fixed unblinkingly on Slytherin's captain Marcus Flint, as if her words were meant specifically for him.
Harry noticed that Flint looked like a Giant, with uneven buck teeth, and didn't seem like a very smart character.
He grinned at Wood, flashing a provocative smile.
Wood returned Flint's smile with an unflinching one of his own.
"You need to watch out for this Flint," Angelina whispered, "Slytherin College has always been very dirty when it comes to Quidditch, with no sportsmanship whatsoever."
Winning at all costs, Harry understood that.
Though he didn't understand Quidditch, he understood Slytherin.
That's why he went to the Earth Cave again yesterday, pulling out a set of sturdy armor, which he resized to fit and wore inside his uniform.
Harry never understood why there was a pile of knight armor in the Earth Cave of the Dark Magic Defense Tower.
But that didn't stop him from taking out a set as protective gear, perhaps finding another interesting use for it at some point.
Come on, let's hurt each other!
Marcus Flint certainly noticed this little Gryffindor Seeker.
Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived.
Flint thought, it's necessary to let this Boy Who Lived understand that Quidditch is not something you excel at just by having fame.
Seeing Harry staring at him, Flint grinned with his buck teeth, flashing a menacing smile.
Only he didn't expect that the other would return an even more bloodthirsty smile.