Chapter 56 "Golden Snitch"

Standing beside Professor Dumbledore, Wentworth's initial reaction was faint dizziness.

Despite his mental preparedness, the roaring cheers of tens of thousands of wizards around him gave rise to an unexpected freeze in his demeanor.

"Don't be nervous, Wentworth. Remember, you're representing Hogwarts," Professor Dumbledore's soothing voice echoed in Wentworth's ears, though it couldn't prevent him from rolling his eyes internally.

"Professor Dumbledore, was this your plan all along? Soon, every Hogwarts student will know I followed you to witness the Quidditch World Cup final. Isn't this too conspicuous?"

To Wentworth's surprise, Professor Dumbledore refuted the assumption. "You've got it wrong, Wentworth. I'm no seer and don't orchestrate events in advance."

Observing Wentworth's puzzled expression, Professor Dumbledore explained further. "In reality, there's just one reason for this. I'm aware that you're an orphan, and you might not have experienced the Quidditch World Cup in person before."

"Most other Hogwarts students attend with their families and have already seen this spectacle."

"As my student, you deserve to witness the same scenes others have. It's only fitting," Professor Dumbledore concluded.

While not entirely removing Wentworth's doubts, these words managed to warm his heart and dismiss his hesitation.

With a gentle adjustment of his robes, Wentworth followed the staff with a confident smile, making his way toward the center of the field.

At this juncture, Wentworth felt more at ease.

After all, he was merely an eleven-year-old child and any of his actions would be forgiven, especially with the presence of the ultimate powerhouse in the wizarding world behind him.

Observing Wentworth's departure, Professor Dumbledore's gaze lingered, unspoken words forming within him, "As my bloodline, you too should witness what others haven't."

As Wentworth reached the center of the field, the host, who had been waiting, let out an exaggerated cry, exclaiming, "Wow! What an elegant and dashing young wizard. Are all Hogwarts students so debonair now? Seeing you brings back memories of my own days at Hogwarts. Wizards as charming as you used to be the objects of affection for many young witches!"

The host likely anticipated a blushing reaction from Wentworth, but he was met with a response suited to a twenty-something-year-old soul trapped in an eleven-year-old body.

With a smile, Wentworth retorted, "It's the same today!"

Clearly flustered, the host struggled to regain his composure.

Meanwhile, in the stands, Minister Fudge leaned towards Professor Dumbledore, complimenting, "Dumbledore, our Hogwarts students truly are exceptional!"

Breaking from his usual modesty, Professor Dumbledore nodded in agreement. "Indeed, they display remarkable courage."

After a brief exchange with the host, Wentworth took hold of the brand-new conceptual Firebolt broomstick.

As he prepared to mount it, the host leaned in and whispered, "Young man, as your elder, allow me to advise you. This broom is different from the ones Hogwarts provides for practice. It's slower."

"Take your time catching the golden snitches. Remember, they're magically controlled. Over time, they'll slow down, making them easier to catch. I wouldn't want to witness any accidents."

Grateful for the advice, Wentworth nodded, his smile unwavering.

Amidst the crowd's cheers, Wentworth soared into the sky, leaving the host alone on the field.

Seemingly addressing the skies, the host mused, "Seems like my earlier advice was unnecessary."

As Wentworth took to the air, he felt an exhilarating rush.

Men, by nature, loved speed, and the Firebolt beneath him was equivalent to the most elite supercar in the wizarding realm.

Performing swift maneuvers, graceful turns, and sudden stops, Wentworth exhibited seamless control, eliciting louder cheers from the audience.

In his airborne excitement, Wentworth's attention was suddenly captured by a flash of gold.

He swiftly changed direction and pursued the glimmering prize, an elusive golden snitch.

The host below exclaimed, "Look, our young wizard has locked onto a golden snitch. Let's see what he does!"

"His elegant turns are truly captivating. He's adeptly adjusted his broom's trajectory in such a short span, zooming toward the golden snitch."

"I had my doubts about an inexperienced Hogwarts student handling such a fast Firebolt, but it appears our young wizard is incredibly reliable, even before his graduation!"

Applause and cheers mingled with some disgruntled chatter from a few wizards.

Regardless, the atmosphere remained charged.

In the air, Wentworth's focus remained unwavering.

He noted the golden snitch's erratic movements but steadily closed the distance.

"Observe, our young wizard is gradually closing in on the golden snitch. However, the snitch's evasive pattern might pose a challenge for him. How will he tackle this?"

Before the host's words fully registered, Wentworth seized an opportune moment.

Accelerating, he shot past the snitch just as it completed a turn.

"Amazing! He accelerated even further! I assumed he had reached his maximum speed earlier. This young wizard's flying prowess is beyond expectations. Initially, he was biding his time, like a skilled hunter, waiting for the perfect moment to strike!"

"We have a winner! With enthusiastic cheers, let's welcome our young wizard back to the arena!"

However, rather than descend, Wentworth continued to search the sky.

The host's face contorted with confusion, waiting impatiently for Wentworth's descent.

"What a waste of my earlier advice," the host muttered, struggling to maintain his unruffled appearance.

As the crowd's cheers resounded, Wentworth's focus remained steadfast.