Less than five feet above the ground, the Golden Snitch made a nimble right-angle turn and soared upwards! Harry and Henry simultaneously yanked their brooms up, their brooms barely touching the grass, kicking up a small cloud of dust.
The rapid change of direction caused Harry's Seven Stars Sweep to groan slightly, his body pulled by inertia.
Henry's broom also felt the pressure, but his more precise control allowed him to complete the turn relatively smoothly.
The Golden Snitch, like a toy sprite playing tricks on its hunter, began to fly erratically through the air.
Harry and Henry gave chase, their brooms tracing intertwined green and red trails in the air.
"It's too fast!" Lee Jordan's voice was hoarse with excitement. "I've never seen a first-year chase like this! The Snitch's speed is insane! Potter is right on his heels! Wales is flying so fast, so gracefully! They're chasing each other around the field! Every change of direction makes my heart stop!"
Henry was completely focused, the wind whistling in his ears, the cold air stinging his cheeks.
His eyes were fixed on that flickering golden glint and the tenacious red figure beside him.
Harry's talent and perseverance were truly astonishing; his anticipation of the Golden Snitch's movements was almost instinctive.
Several times he nearly touched it with his fingertips, completely disregarding the fact that he was riding an old, clumsy broomstick and the terrifying moment he had just experienced.
Just then, the Golden Snitch abruptly stopped without warning, then plummeted vertically downwards, heading straight for the ground!
Another dive! Harry almost reflexively followed suit.
But this time, Henry didn't immediately follow.
He made a move that made everyone gasp. He jerked his broomstick upwards, rising almost vertically twenty feet, then changed direction, slicing at an angle from a higher vantage point towards the Snitch's predicted landing area!
"What is he doing? The Snitch is down there!" Draco shouted anxiously from the stands.
Daphne's eyes lit up: "He anticipated the Snitch's second change of direction! After a low-altitude plunge, he usually pulls back up rapidly!"
As if to prove her point, just two or three feet from the ground, about to collide, the Golden Snitch flapped its wings and rebounded at an incredible right angle, hurtling towards Henry's path diagonally upwards!
Harry, having plunged too quickly and too deeply, although he also desperately pulled up, was a fraction of a second slower than the Snitch, ending up to its side and slightly behind.
'An opportunity'
Henry and the Golden Snitch faced each other! The distance closed rapidly. Ten feet. Five feet.
He released one hand, leaned forward as much as possible, stretched his arm to its limit, and reached out to grab it.
He touched it! A cold, hard touch came from his fingertips!
But the Snitch's struggle was incredibly strong, and it seemed about to break free.
There was no time to think. Henry risked leaning his body even further forward, and his other hand quickly reached out, his hands firmly closing together!
"Got it!" Lee Jordan's voice cracked. "Henry Wales has caught the Golden Snitch! Merlin's Sock! He's got it! Match over. Slytherin wins!"
The stadium fell silent for a moment, tense with tension.
Then, after Lee Jordan announced Slytherin's victory, the surrounding stands erupted in a deafening roar of cheers! Green and silver flags waved wildly!
"Slytherin! Slytherin! Slytherin!"
Even the other houses joined in the cheering, though with a difference: Slytherin cheered for their house, while the other houses chanted Henry's name.
The Seeker represents the epitome of individual heroism in Quidditch, and Henry's performance had undoubtedly captivated the entire audience.
Even Gryffindor had to applaud him, after all, he had just saved their Seeker.
Henry landed slowly in the center of the pitch, raising his clenched right fist.
Then, under the watchful eyes of the crowd, he slowly released his grip.
In his palm, the Golden Snitch flapped its wings weakly a few times before finally falling silent.
Sunlight shone on it, reflecting a dazzling light.
Madam Hooch blew the final whistle. The scoreboard read: 220 to 50, Slytherin won by a massive margin of 170 points.
Harry landed a short distance away, his bangs soaked with sweat, his face still pale from the intense chase and the earlier shock.
He looked at the golden light in Henry's palm, a clear sense of disappointment flashing in his eyes, but quickly replaced by a complex emotion.
Gratitude for the life-saving grace, excitement about the thrilling chase, and heartfelt admiration for his opponent's brilliant final strike.
He maneuvered his less-than-nimble Seven Stars Broomstick closer, extending his hand, his voice slightly hoarse but sincere: "Brilliant prediction…and thank you, and congratulations."
Henry grasped his sweaty hand, feeling the slight tremor in the other's fingertips.
"You chased exceptionally well, Harry. With a different broomstick, the outcome might have been completely different."
He spoke sincerely; Harry's tenacity and talent had deeply impressed him in this match.
Flint charged forward like a Spanish bull seeing a red ribbon, immense joy dispelling all his previous anger and anxiety.
He hugged Henry tightly, the force still almost suffocating him, then raised his arm high, letting out a deafening roar of victory towards the Slytherin stands.
Henry felt that Flint shouldn't be raising his pincers; he should be pounding his chest to fit his image.
The other team members excitedly surrounded him, patting Henry's back and shoulders.
"Well done! That last prediction was fucking amazing!" Flint roared in his ear, spittle flying everywhere, "And before that... never mind! We won! We're the champions!"
He didn't mention saving Harry again; the euphoria of victory overwhelmed everything.
The Slytherins escorted Henry towards the dressing room, and wherever they went, Slytherin students reached out to touch their hero.
Henry maintained a polite smile and nodded to the sea of green.
The dressing room had already become a sea of revelry, and Flint announced that there would be a grand celebration party in the common room that evening, with all expenses covered by the team fund.
Even Higgs, who had been injured and forced to leave the field earlier, came over. With his arm in a sling, he patted Henry's shoulder firmly with his uninjured arm, his tone frank: "Beautiful flight, Wales. I didn't expect that high tackle; you won cleanly."
This recognition from a former Seeker carried particular weight in the noisy locker room.
"Thanks, Higgs. Hope you recover soon," Henry replied.