Hermione was the first to notice Harry Potter's distress—not because she was watching him, but because he happened to be near Qin. With her opera glass's narrow field of view, she could only track one or two people at a time, and if she wasn't following Qin, who else would she watch?
So spotting Harry was pure happenstance.
Of course, many in the stands were just like Hermione—their eyes glued to Qin Yu, and so they couldn't help but notice the "leisurely" Seeker, Harry Potter, who often hovered nearby.
When Harry suddenly began whipping around the sky, his Nimbus 2000 behaving like a bucking bronco, the entire stadium's attention snapped to the scene.
"Is Harry's broomstick broken?" Neville whispered anxiously.
"No way! It's brand new—a Nimbus 2000!" Ron insisted. He knew that broom inside out; after all, he and Harry had unwrapped it together.
And he was right: the Nimbus 2000 wasn't just fast and sleek, it was famed for its stability. Ordinary interference wouldn't make it go haywire.
Which meant—if something was wrong, it wasn't ordinary.
Up in the air, Harry was shrieking in terror. He clung desperately to his broomstick as it lurched and twisted beneath him, tossing him about like a rag doll. His bones felt ready to fly apart; any second now, he was sure he'd be thrown off entirely.
A fall from this height? The consequences didn't bear thinking about.
In that life-or-death moment, Qin was the first person Harry thought of.
He was certain that as long as Qin was there, he'd be safe—maybe that's why, since the match began, he'd subconsciously drifted toward Qin's side of the pitch.
But when Harry looked for help, his heart plummeted. Qin wasn't even looking his way; he had his back turned, focused elsewhere.
"Help me… Qin… aaah!" Harry shouted, voice ragged with panic.
He was so frantic, his cries came out in broken bursts, barely coherent. What if Qin didn't hear him?
At last, Qin turned and glanced his way.
But it was just a glance. After a brief nod, Qin flew off.
Flew away.
Gone.
Vanished.
Merlin's beard, are you really leaving me to die, Qin? Harry wailed inside, despair crashing over him like icy water. It was as if his last lifeline had been swept away by the current, leaving him alone in the abyss.
He wanted to believe there was another explanation, but in that moment, he had no energy to think—he could only cling to his broomstick and hope Qin would come back.
...
Harry didn't have time to question it, but others certainly did.
Hermione, watching the scene unfold, frowned in deep thought as she tracked Qin Yu's departing figure.
She didn't believe for a second that Qin would abandon a friend in danger. On the contrary, he seemed calm—almost calculating—as if he'd already found a way to help.
But why fly in the opposite direction?
Hermione was stumped.
"What on earth is Qin up to?" she muttered, keeping her glass trained on his speeding silhouette.
But no matter how she watched, she couldn't figure it out. Frustrated, she swept her view across the pitch.
"Adam, can we swap, please?" Hermione turned to her "equipment supplier," Adam Quinn.
She waved her monocular. "This thing's just too limiting."
"Of course! Here," Adam replied, handing over his binoculars without hesitation.
"Thanks!" Hermione said, immediately switching to the upgraded view. Instantly, her world widened—two eyes, a much broader field, and so much more detail.
No time to savor the improved optics—she focused on the chaos below.
"…We're not sure what's happened to Harry, but it's thrown the match into confusion… Slytherin is taking full advantage, organizing a—uh—ruthless attack…" The worry in Lee Jordan's voice was palpable.
Through her new binoculars, Hermione saw Slytherin Chaser Pucey seize the Quaffle during Angelina's momentary distraction.
"…Some Gryffindor players are trying to figure out what's wrong with Harry, shouting at him from below. Others are still focused on the match… As for Qin—he's flying straight at Pucey, clearly intent on keeping Gryffindor in the game…"
Hermione traced Qin's path as he closed in on Pucey.
She didn't believe for a second that Qin would ignore Harry just to stop a Slytherin goal.
Then again, she wasn't too worried about Harry's safety. Even if he fell, she knew Qin was fast enough to catch him before he hit the ground.
She had good reason to trust his speed—after all, she'd been on the back of his broom more than once. She knew exactly how quick he could be.
As long as Harry stayed within the boundaries of the pitch, Qin could save him in time.
That thought conjured an image in her mind: Harry, sitting on Qin's broom, leaning back against his chest.
Ew!
No, no, no!
Hermione wrinkled her nose, pushing the thought away. The idea was even more intolerable than seeing someone else in her boyfriend's passenger seat.
"You'd better have a real plan…" she muttered, pouting as she watched the drama unfold overhead.
...
The match was changing by the second. Slytherin capitalized on the chaos to snatch the Quaffle and launch a fierce attack on the goal.
Gryffindor was thrown off balance—only Qin seemed fully focused, throwing himself into defense.
Spectators buzzed with debate.
Some thought Qin should help his teammate first.
Others argued that in Quidditch, victory was everything—even if a single player was in trouble, the match had to go on.
"…Sometimes Quidditch is just that brutal. Broken arms and legs are par for the course," Monnie said, her tone pragmatic and a little cold.
"Wait—Harry's not really in danger, is he?" Ron asked, his worry for his best mate growing.
"Don't worry, don't worry. This isn't some cutthroat professional league. And look—there are loads of teachers watching. Professor McGonagall, Professor Snape, even Professor Quirrell—they're all keeping an eye on Harry. There's no way they'll let him get seriously hurt," Monnie reassured him.
"So… he's not in mortal danger, but there could still be other dangers?" Ron's anxiety faded only a little.
"…" Monnie fell silent. Truthfully, injuries were always possible.
Well, at least they weren't Muggles. As long as you didn't die, a few bruises weren't the end of the world.
"Worrying won't help. Just watch—"
She broke off as her attention snapped back to the pitch. Qin had suddenly accelerated, racing to a new position.
Monnie raised her binoculars to see what he was up to.
She saw him lift his pale red bat high, then smash a rogue Bludger with all his strength.
The Bludger rocketed toward Adrian Pucey, who was charging forward with the Quaffle.
The black iron ball hurtled through the air, fast as a bullet. But Pucey, having kept an eye on Qin, simply shifted his flight path and dodged the attack with ease, letting the Bludger whistle past.
Before Lee Jordan could even voice his regret at Qin's "miss," the Bludger, still moving at top speed, arced away—straight toward the stands.
"…Oh no, the Bludger's headed for the crowd! Everyone, duck!"
Whether it was the commentator's warning or the sight of the incoming Bludger, panic swept through one section of the audience.
"Well, that's a foul—Qin hit the ball out of bounds! Luckily, no one was hurt."
A near miss, and the game resumed.
When everyone calmed down, they realized that at some point, Harry Potter had stopped his wild, out-of-control flight and returned to normal, and Gryffindor's play was back on track.
But among the crowd, only one person had pieced together the truth—a pint-sized detective in disguise: Edogawa Hermione!
She'd noticed that the section of the stands targeted by Qin's Bludger was where the Hogwarts teachers were seated—including, notably, Professor Snape, whom she'd discussed with Qin in private.
And all signs pointed to one thing: Professor Snape did not like Harry.
For Qin, one was a respected teacher, the other a cherished friend.
"So that's why Qin's gaze was so conflicted just now… He must have been hurting inside, too…" the little detective murmured, her voice tinged with worry and sorrow.
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