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It was early Saturday morning when Augustus got up and strolled out of the cold, shadowy Slytherin common room, wandering into a forest clearing just outside the castle. The morning fog was thick—anything more than five meters away was a blurry haze.
Dew clung to the thin, emerald-green leaves hanging from the tree branches, and a soft drizzle mixed with the heavy mist gave the scene a kind of quiet beauty.
"You're out early. The air here is quite nice. I come out for walks in the morning sometimes too."
A girl was walking toward him—not far off. She was strikingly pretty, taller than most girls, with a confident, refreshing energy about her.
"Oh? And you are…" Augustus's silver eyes narrowed slightly in confusion. He didn't seem to recognize her. And with his memory, he could usually remember anyone he'd met, even once.
"You probably haven't seen me before, Mr. Augustus. I'm Cho Chang, the Seeker for Ravenclaw's Quidditch team. I've heard so much about you—Slytherin's mysterious 'Hidden Prefect' and walking library. At Ravenclaw, we've always admired people who are well-read, so your reputation, Augustus, is well known even in our house."
"Cho Chang? That's a great name. You're Chinese, right?" Augustus had a sharp eye—he could tell from her name and accent.
"Yeah! You know about China?" Cho looked a bit surprised that he picked up on her background so easily.
"Ha, just call me Augustus—we're classmates, no need for the 'mister.' I don't know that much about China, but its history is fascinating. Ancient and mysterious. It's a country full of wonder. I imagine, being Chinese, you must be really proud of your homeland." Augustus gave a nod and smiled faintly.
"Of course!" Cho looked proud at his praise. "China is one of the four great ancient civilizations. Whether it's culture or other fields, it has so much to offer. If you ever visit, let me be your tour guide—I promise you'll see the best parts of our country!"
"I'll definitely go if I get the chance." Augustus smiled again. He found himself rather liking this enthusiastic girl.
"It's getting late, I should head back. I've got a Quidditch match this afternoon—Slytherin vs. Gryffindor—and I have to be there as the Hidden Prefect." Augustus nodded politely to Cho and turned to head back toward the castle.
"Don't forget what you promised! If you ever come to China, you have to find me. I'll be your guide." She repeated herself, clearly serious about the offer and not just saying it to be polite.
"I will," Augustus said with a smile, then walked off, leaving the edge of the Forbidden Forest behind.
As 11 o'clock approached, students and teachers started heading to the Quidditch stadium. The air was hot and humid, with the low rumble of thunder echoing overhead. Augustus, in his role as second-year Hidden Prefect, was helping Lillian organize the second-years and get them seated.
When Gryffindor's team entered the field, they were greeted by a roar of cheers—mostly from Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs, who were all hoping to see Slytherin lose. Still, scattered boos and jeers from Slytherin fans could be heard too.
Madam Hooch called Flint and Wood forward to shake hands; both captains stared each other down like they wanted to hex one another, squeezing each other's hands so hard it looked painful.
"Wait for my whistle," Madam Hooch said. "Three—two—one—"
The crowd roared as fourteen players kicked off and soared into the leaden gray sky. Harry flew higher than anyone, squinting through the drizzle in search of the Golden Snitch.
"You alright up there, Scarhead?" Malfoy shouted, shooting past beneath Harry like a missile, clearly showing off the speed of his broom.
Harry didn't answer—he didn't have time. A heavy black Bludger suddenly came hurtling toward him. He barely dodged it—he could feel it brush past his hair.
"Close one, Harry!" George yelled, zooming by with his bat raised, ready to smack the Bludger away from Harry and toward the Slytherins. Harry saw George swing hard at it, aiming for Slytherin's Darian Pucey—but then, weirdly, the Bludger veered mid-air and came straight back at Harry again.
He dove to avoid it, and George whacked it this time toward Malfoy. But the Bludger acted like a boomerang—it turned in midair again and made another beeline for Harry's head.
Harry suddenly shot across the pitch at top speed. He could hear the Bludger whistling after him. What the hell was going on?
Fred Weasley was waiting on the far side, ready for the Bludger. Harry ducked just in time, and Fred swung with all his strength, sending the Bludger flying off to the side.
"That's more like it!" Fred yelled—but he was wrong. The Bludger looped back again like it was magnetically drawn to Harry and started chasing him down once more. Harry had no choice but to fly even faster to get away.
It started to rain harder. Huge droplets smacked into Harry's face and splattered his glasses. He was completely focused on dodging the rogue Bludger, totally unaware of what was happening elsewhere on the pitch—until he heard Lee Jordan shout over the commentary, "Slytherin leads, sixty to zero!"
Augustus was watching the sky with a frown. Something was definitely wrong with that Bludger—it seemed locked onto Harry. He cast a Detection Charm on it and frowned even more at the result. Whatever magic was on that Bludger wasn't from any spell he recognized. And that was saying something—he'd already compiled every spell from two major magical systems into his magical web. If the spell was from either system, his charm should've picked it up.
He couldn't locate the caster, and he couldn't just interfere with the Bludger either. He was a spectator. If he messed with the game and kept the Bludger from hitting Harry, it would count as outside interference—and the match could be invalidated.
The best he could do was speed up the search for whoever cast the spell. Activating the Eye of Insight, Augustus began sweeping the area with a large-scale detection scan, powered by his deep reserves of magical energy.
At that brutal moment, Harry was hovering midair, afraid to rush toward Malfoy in case Malfoy spotted the Snitch. Too slow. The Bludger finally slammed into Harry's elbow with a sickening crack.
Agony shot up his arm. He was dizzy and sliding off his rain-soaked broom. One knee still hooked the broomstick, but his right arm hung limply at his side, completely numb. The Bludger came back for round two—this time aiming for his face.
Harry suddenly swerved, one thought blaring in his barely-functioning brain: Get to Malfoy. Through the pouring rain, he pushed through the searing pain and dove toward Malfoy's smug, smirking face. The smirk turned into wide-eyed terror as Malfoy saw him coming.
"What're you doing—!" Malfoy gasped, swerving out of the way.
Harry let go of the broom with his good hand and lunged—his fingers closed around something small, cold, and metallic. The Snitch.
But he only had his legs gripping the broom, so he started plummeting. He fought not to pass out as the ground rushed toward him, the sound of shocked gasps rising from the crowd.
SPLAT. He crashed into the muddy pitch, rolling off his broom. His arm was hanging at a weird, painful angle. Through the blinding pain, he heard distant cheers and whistles. He blinked down and saw the golden Snitch gripped tightly in his uninjured hand.
"Ha…" he mumbled, "We won." And then he passed out.
He came to a few seconds later, still lying on the pitch, rain pouring on his face, someone leaning over him.
Augustus gave up trying to find the spellcaster. Whoever it was, they were hiding very well—and with all the students and teachers around, finding them would be like finding a needle in a haystack. Thankfully, nothing worse had happened—Harry had only broken an arm. Augustus could fix that with a few spells.
He started walking toward the field. But when he saw Lockhart standing next to Harry, a strange chill ran down his spine—he didn't know why, but something about it just felt off.
"....."