Ever since Scotland entered November, the weather had beco increasingly cold.
Hogwarts, located in the highlands, was even more so.
The mountains surrounding the castle were covered in snow, which hadn't lted for more than ten consecutive days.
The Black Lake's surface had long since frozen over, with many young wizards running onto the ice to play.
Although the first Saturday was a sunny day, the temperature remained very low.
That morning, everyone in the Great Hall was excitedly discussing the first Quidditch match of the season that was about to begin.
Gryffindor versus Slytherin.
People kept glancing at Harry with attention.
This was because news had spread that first-year Harry Potter had exceptionally joined the Gryffindor team as Seeker.
Gryffindor team captain Wood was furious.
His original plan had been to keep Harry as a secret weapon, waiting until match day for a surprise attack.
He had even put great effort into maintaining secrecy.
He never expected the news to leak out anyway.
Just as Sherlock had predicted earlier.
But now there was no point in investigating who had leaked the information.
Wood could only rage helplessly.
However, almost everyone was interested in Harry's debut performance.
So said Harry would play brilliantly—the Boy Who Lived of the wizarding world surely couldn't be bad at Quidditch, otherwise he wouldn't have exceptionally joined the team as an official player.
He couldn't have gotten onto the team through connections, could he?
But others said he would perform terribly.
Especially this morning.
Rumors were circulating among the students, saying that during the match, soone would need to hold mattresses on the ground and run along, in case he fell off.
"It's probably Malfoy and his gang. He's been jealous that you could participate in official matches as a first-year," Hermione speculated.
"Obviously," Sherlock said calmly. "Apart from venting emotions, it's aningless—though the imagination is comndable."
"Harry, you should eat so breakfast," Ron said, stuffing sausages into his mouth while speaking indistinctly.
Harry shook his head: "I don't want to eat anything."
"How about so toast?" Hermione coaxed.
"I'm not hungry."
Harry continued shaking his head.
He felt terrible right now.
In just one hour he would walk onto the field, and his nervousness had already sent him to the bathroom several tis.
Yet it hadn't improved his awful, tense mood.
"Eat sothing," Sherlock looked at Harry. "You need to maintain your strength. The Seeker is the person the opposing team focuses on defending against."
Harry was startled, then nodded and took the toast that Neville beside him had passed over.
Hermione and Ron: (＝.＝)
So, you only listen to him, is that it?
At eleven o'clock, almost all the teachers and students in the school ca to the stands around the Quidditch pitch.
Although the seats had been raised into mid-air, it was still sotis difficult to see the match clearly, so many students brought telescopes.
Sherlock brought Hermione and Ron to the highest row.
Speaking of which, getting this pri location was thanks to Wood.
Even now, Wood hadn't given up on getting Sherlock to join the team.
He had even given special treatnt for this—Sherlock could observe when they were training.
During this process, Sherlock had also beco familiar with the team mbers, making getting VIP seats effortless.
Round-faced Neville, Dean Thomas, and Seamus Finnigan saw this situation and imdiately ca over without a word.
As Sherlock's roommates, Neville and Dean had even brought the bedsheet that had been soiled by Ron's pet rat Scabbers.
The three of them worked together to paint a huge banner with "POTTER FOR PRESIDENT" written on it.
Dean, who was good at drawing, had also painted a large Gryffindor lion underneath.
It could be said to be quite thoughtful.
Seeing the huge banner the three had brought, Hermione thought for a mont, then simply cast another spell on it.
The paint began to flash with colorful lights, making it even more eye-catching.
"Where's Sherlock?"
Seamus marveled at Hermione's excellent magical skills while looking around.
Everyone knew Sherlock was Harry's best friend, so he should be present in this situation.
"He had sothing to find Harry about. He just left," Ron said, not looking up while gnawing on a chicken leg.
"Ah, what was so urgent?" Dean was sowhat surprised—the match was about to start!
At this mont, in the changing room, Harry had already changed into bright red Quidditch robes with the other team mbers.
Sherlock pulled Harry aside and said to him:
"Harry, don't be afraid of what I'm about to tell you."
Harry: o((⊙﹏⊙))o.
'How can I not be afraid when you say it like that?'
Quietly swallowing, he heard Sherlock ask: "How is your broomstick?"
"You an the Nimbus 2000?"
Although he didn't understand why Sherlock suddenly asked about this, Harry answered honestly:
"Very good. I only need to touch it lightly and it turns in the direction I need."
"Good. If my deduction is correct, it might have so problems during the upcoming match."
"What problems?"
Harry imdiately beca nervous.
"Don't worry, my friend. It's not a big problem."
Sherlock patted Harry's shoulder. "Soone will cast a spell on your broomstick, trying to throw you off while you're playing."
Harry: Σ(°△°|||)︴
'Do you want to hear what you're saying?'
Soone wants my life, and you still say it's not a big problem?
"I just checked. Professor Snape is on the scene. He will protect you."
Harry: ||Φ|(|T|Д|T|)|Φ||
'Why do I feel even more scared?'
"Also, I will stop them at the first opportunity."
Hearing Sherlock say this, Harry felt slightly more at ease. He lowered his voice: "Is it Quirrell?"
"Not certain yet, but as long as he makes a move this ti, it'll be pretty much confird.
Actually, I originally suggested Dumbledore co watch the match. With him present, you'd be absolutely safe.
But then the person who wants to act would know they couldn't accomplish anything and wouldn't make a move."
Speaking of this, Sherlock suddenly paused. He hesitated for a mont, then posed a question:
"This is very dangerous—even so, are you still willing to continue playing?"
Harry suddenly looked up.
He found that although Sherlock's expression looked as cold as usual, a trace of worry flashed in his eyes.
More importantly, he sensed concern in the other's seemingly casual tone.
Harry imdiately understood—Sherlock was worried.
Worried about his taking on the responsibility of drawing the snake out of its hole.
And he talks about Professor Snape—turns out he himself has such an indirect side too.
Thinking of this, Harry suddenly wanted to joke with Sherlock: "If I said no..."
"Then I'll compete in your place."
Sherlock imdiately said.
Harry: o (￣▽￣) o
"Thank you, Sherlock."
Harry's eyes were sowhat moist as he looked at Sherlock and said softly: "Since both you and Dumbledore need , let do it."
"Hey, Potter, Hols, aren't you ready yet?"
"The captain is about to start his speech. Without one audience mber, he won't have the spirit... Ow, why are you hitting ..."
The Weasley twins had just started speaking when Wood slapped them quiet.
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