The match had begun, and Harry was flying steadily on his broom, his eyes scanning the sky for the Golden Snitch.
"Stay here," Wood leaned in closer. "Wait until you see the Snitch before engaging. We don't want you attacked too early."
"All right, Captain," Harry replied with a nod.
"Beautiful! Gryffindor's chaser, Angelina Johnson, leaps, grabs the Quaffle, spins in a circle, and shoots ahead of all her opponents — Slytherin's defenders desperately try to stop her but fail — Gryffindor, ten points!" shouted commentator Lee Jordan.
"That's it!" A roar erupted from the stands, the cheers of all three houses blending with Slytherin's frustrated shouts.
After Gryffindor scored, it was Slytherin's turn to attack.
However, with Wood as keeper, simply unbeatable, they couldn't get past him to score.
"Look, Gryffindor launches another counterattack — beautiful play by Arya Spinnett, the talent Oliver Wood discovered, a reserve last year… My goodness, Flint, Slytherin's captain, intercepted the ball. Let's see Gryffindor's reaction — oh, Arya's interception is perfect!" Lee Jordan practically shouted in a single breath.
"No! Arya's pass… she sent the ball to a Slytherin player — heavens! Gryffindor almost gave up, but then a miracle happened: an unintended long pass ricocheted off Angelina's well-trained muscles, and she scored another goal for Gryffindor!"
Lee Jordan had barely finished when Professor McGonagall gave him a sharp tap on the back of his head.
"No off-topic commentary!" she said, giving him a severe look.
Lee Jordan's enthusiasm waned, but he continued commenting with less energy.
Gryffindor seized another opportunity to attack. Harry, watching from above, heard Wood's terrified shout:
"Harry! No!"
Harry tapped his armor lightly, activating its protective shield.
Flint, who had targeted the Snitch, grinned maliciously, imagining Gryffindor's Seeker being knocked off course.
But, to everyone's surprise, a dull thud came from above. Harry was unharmed, and the Snitch bounced away.
"Harry, are you all right?" Fred ran up to him, nudging the Snitch toward Flint.
"I'm fine," Harry said, tapping his armor, showing no sign of panic.
Then, he saw a streak of golden light.
It was the Golden Snitch! Immediately, he pressed the broomstick's handle and accelerated toward the light.
Slytherin's Seeker, Terrence Higgins, spotted it too, and the two raced side by side. The Chasers hovered, momentarily forgetting their duties, watching the fierce duel with bated breath.
Harry's broom was excellent, and his flying skills exceeded Higgins'; he had already gained a two-broom-length lead.
"Danger!" Angelina's piercing warning came from above.
Harry also noticed Marcus Flint charging toward him. He took a deep breath, bracing for impact, subtly angling his arm, ready to use his stronger elbow for defense and counterattack.
Thwack!
With a muffled crash, Flint screamed and flew away like a kite with a broken string.
Harry turned toward him, grinning mischievously in midair. That feeling was simply exhilarating.
But his joy was short-lived. Suddenly, he felt the broom tilt violently.
What's happening?
Harry quickly righted the broom, narrowly avoiding a fall.
However, a violent jolt followed, as if the broom had a mind of its own, trying to throw him off.
Who is doing this? Who cursed my broom?
Harry's first thought was that someone wanted to harm him. But he had made no enemies at Hogwarts…
Malfoy? No, that boy may dislike me, but he doesn't have the power for this.
He gripped the broom firmly with his right hand and struck the handle with his left.
"Finite!" he shouted.
The broom stabilized briefly, but before Harry could even breathe a sigh of relief, it began shaking violently again.
"Harry, look at Harry!" Ron shouted, terrified, from Gryffindor's stands, pointing to the sky. "His broom is out of control!"
Hermione snatched Neville's telescope and raised it to her eyes.
"This shouldn't happen… Harry is an excellent flyer, and this is the new broom Professor McGonagall gave him. How can this be happening?" Ron muttered anxiously beside her.
"I know!" Hermione said urgently. "Quiet, Ron! Let me see what's going on!"
She focused the binoculars on Snape and, as she suspected, found her answer:
"I should have guessed!" Hermione dropped the binoculars and hugged Ron tightly. "Look, it's Snape! He's targeting Harry, muttering some spell. He must be trying to harm Harry!"
"But why?" Ron asked, confused. "Isn't he a friend of Harry's parents? Why would he curse him?"
"Don't worry about it!" Hermione said, worried, glancing at Harry. "Just watch."
She stepped away from Ron and hurried down the Gryffindor stands.
From above, Harry still struggled with his broom. Out of the corner of his eye, he glanced at the Head Table and saw Dumbledore sitting calmly, showing no intention of intervening.
Wait, Professor Dumbledore, are you just going to stand there? Watching your student get thrown off by a cursed broom?
Harry continued casting spells to steady the broom while shaking it from side to side, observing carefully. He could land, but doing so would lose the chance to discover who was trying to harm him.
Deciding to investigate, he cast a keen-vision spell on himself and looked toward the teachers' chairs, where Snape stared intently, muttering to himself.
Could it be him?
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