Harry had no objections to Sherlock's suggestion—winning the match was his responsibility, after all.
"But… Wood said Snape—Professor Snape—will try every trick in the book to dock points from the Gryffindor team."
"That's a fair assessment," Sherlock agreed with Wood's concern, then calmly offered a solution.
"Just make sure you catch the Golden Snitch before the point gap reaches 150."
Seeing Harry nod repeatedly, Ron couldn't hold back any longer.
"Wait a minute—do you two even hear yourselves?"
It was as if Snape becoming the Quidditch referee—a clearly unfavorable development—was somehow a reassuring advantage to Harry and Sherlock.
Completely absurd!
Hermione chimed in, "Ron's right. Even if Professor Snape won't hurt Harry, he definitely doesn't want Gryffindor to win."
Sherlock chuckled softly.
"Quidditch is simple for the Seeker—Harry just needs to focus on catching the Snitch. But for a referee like Snape… there's a lot more to consider."
(｀д′)
This time, not only Ron, but even Hermione was stunned.
Even after all this time and Sherlock's repeated reassurances, even if she now believed that Snape wouldn't harm Harry—in fact, might even protect him—this latest remark was baffling.
Wasn't that sarcasm?
But Sherlock truly meant it.
As the match referee, Snape had to ensure Harry's safety while still finding ways to deduct points from Gryffindor.
That would be a real challenge.
The match between Gryffindor and Hufflepuff began not long after Snape was confirmed as the referee for the second game of the House Cup.
Compared to the first game, the Gryffindors were tense, the Slytherins gleeful, and the Ravenclaws spectating enthusiastically.
The Hufflepuffs, meanwhile, looked blissfully detached—as if the match didn't concern them at all.
This time, Sherlock didn't go to the locker room before the match to speak with Harry.
But Oliver Wood pulled Harry aside and spoke in a low, urgent voice:
"Potter, I don't want to put too much pressure on you—but today, more than ever, we need you to catch the Snitch quickly."
Wood's brows were twisted into knots.
"We need to finish this fast—before Snape has a chance to show too much bias toward Hufflepuff."
Harry nodded firmly.
On this point, everyone agreed.
Even Sherlock, who had always insisted that Snape would protect him, said the same.
Because of Harry's stellar performance in the previous match, this game drew an even larger crowd—almost the entire school came to watch.
"Too bad Professor Dumbledore isn't here," Harry muttered, a bit disappointed as he looked at the noisy stands.
If Dumbledore were present, Quirrell definitely wouldn't dare make a move.
Though Sherlock had assured him Snape would protect him, he'd also admitted that if Voldemort helped, Quirrell might still have the upper hand.
Last time, it had been a close call.
But this time, with Snape actively refereeing the match and ready to intervene at any time, it should be fine.
The whistle blew, and fifteen brooms soared into the sky.
As always, Lee Jordan sprang into action with his trademark enthusiasm and rhythmic voice, announcing the game with fiery passion.
"Ladies and gentlemen, the Gryffindor vs. Hufflepuff match has officially begun!
If Gryffindor wins today, with back-to-back victories, they might just take the House Cup from Slytherin!
In my opinion, this will again come down to a duel between the Seekers—provided, of course, that the referee makes fair calls—"
"Jordan!"
"Sorry, Professor."
Under Professor McGonagall's sharp gaze, Jordan quickly apologized.
Still, he made his point.
Just like in the previous match, Harry hung back from the action.
Partly to keep an eye out for the Snitch, partly to avoid being targeted too early.
Compared to Slytherin, Hufflepuff played a cleaner game.
Not a single player tried anything as dirty as Marcus Flint.
Clearly, none of them had any... aggressive lineage.
Just then, Snape glanced toward Harry.
Harry gave what he thought was a friendly smile in return.
Snape promptly turned away and awarded Hufflepuff a penalty—claiming George had aimed a Bludger at him.
Harry: (-'`-;)
He had a feeling that penalty was somehow... his fault.
His suspicion was soon confirmed.
Just one minute later, Snape gave Hufflepuff another penalty—this time, accusing Chaser Angelina Johnson of flying in a straight line and "deliberately endangering the referee."
"And after that… clearly biased penalty—"
"Jordan!"
Professor McGonagall hissed.
"I meant to say, after that controversial penalty—"
"Jordan, final warning—"
"Alright, alright. After that last call, Hufflepuff now leads by twenty points. Though, I suppose… these things happen.
Gryffindor has possession, and at this point, they can only hope Seeker Harry Potter finds the Snitch fast—or things will get ugly."
Honestly, with the way Snape was officiating, Lee Jordan found it hard to stay impartial.
The Gryffindor stands erupted in boos.
This was blatant bias!
But there was nothing they could do.
That's just how Quidditch worked—many fouls could be interpreted either way.
Snape was simply choosing to penalize every ambiguous Hufflepuff play, while ignoring similar Gryffindor ones.
Bit by bit, the score gap widened.
Soon, it began to rain.
It started light but quickly intensified.
The rain began to interfere with the players' flying.
Still, Snape didn't call a timeout.
A little rain? Nothing worth mentioning.
Oliver Wood roared encouragement at his teammates:
"It's just a drizzle! We've practiced in worse!"
"Yeah, even if it were raining Unforgivables, you wouldn't cancel practice!"
George Weasley hurled a Bludger at Hufflepuff's Seeker and grumbled.
The game was fierce; the stands were just as noisy.
Before the match, Sherlock had told Hermione and Ron he had something to do and quietly left.
Malfoy, seeing this from a distance, lit up with glee and brought Crabbe and Goyle over.
Once the game began, he started mocking Harry loudly.
Ron quickly led Neville, Dean, and Seamus in shouting back.
Hermione didn't join the shouting match. She sat, hands clasped in her lap, whispering under her breath:
"Come on, Harry… hurry up!"
Even though Quirrell hadn't made a move yet, she worried he might do something unexpected.
As Snape's calls grew more outrageous, tension between the Gryffindor and Slytherin students mounted.
When Malfoy mocked Gryffindor yet again, Ron snapped:
"Damn it—you're only this smug because Sherlock's not here!"
Malfoy looked momentarily flustered.
"Afraid of him? Don't make me laugh! He's just some... Muggle-born who got lucky and fooled the professors with his smarts!"
Ron kept his eyes on the field, but shot back:
"If Sherlock were here, Malfoy, you wouldn't dare squeak!"
"Weasley, is that all you've got? Name-dropping your betters?
If brains were gold, you'd still be broke!"
Ron's ears turned red.
"Malfoy, I hope your bones are as hard as your mouth!"
"Ron, don't let him get to you—Oh my god, look at Harry!"
Hermione's voice broke into a shriek.
Out on the pitch, Harry suddenly dived, breaking away from the crowd.
Hufflepuff's Seeker hadn't even realized what was happening.
"You're lucky, Weasley. Scarhead must've seen money on the ground!"
Malfoy jeered again.
This time, Ron had enough.
But—
Before Ron could act, Malfoy was already on the ground.
A familiar figure stood nearby.
Hermione and Ron both cheered:
"Sherlock!"
"You're lucky too, Prince Chrome," Sherlock said, lowering his fist.
Then he turned to Crabbe and Goyle.
"Care to join him?"
A few seconds later, Crabbe and Goyle joined Malfoy in a heap.
High in the air, Harry zipped past Snape on his Nimbus 2000.
The wind from his pass sent Snape's robes fluttering.
Snape frowned deeply.
But before he could find another reason to penalize someone, Harry stopped right in front of him—just inches away.
Then he raised his right hand high.
Just like in the last match.
The Golden Snitch gleamed in his grasp.
The match was over.
The stands exploded in cheers.
A new record—the fastest Snitch catch in House Cup history.
"We won! Gryffindor wins!" Hermione screamed, jumping on her seat and giving Sherlock a tight hug.
Harry floated down and hopped off his broom just a foot above the ground.
Snape landed beside him, lips pressed tight and face grim.
Clearly, he wasn't thrilled.
Harry was about to ignore him—after all the unfair calls—but then he remembered Sherlock's explanation of the flower language and that special Christmas gift.
So he turned to Snape and said sincerely:
"Thank you, Professor."
---
Advance Chapters on Patreon!
p(a)treon(.)com/HudaLin
-Remove the parenthesis to access patreon normally
Thanks for the Support!