276 0275 Performance

No one paid attention to Hermione's complaint. They were all immersed in Harry's magnificent flying skills. They cheered, clapped, and whistled, as Harry performed one amazing stunt after another.

"Harry, I released the Snitch!"

When the time was right, Wood shouted into the sky. 

Upon hearing the call, Harry dived down again. This time, he passed through the middle of Fred and George who were flying side by side, playing as Beaters. The golden Snitch that was fluttering like a shadow didn't have time to speed up, and was firmly caught by Harry.

The Quidditch pitch erupted in a frenzy of cheers. Fred and George clapped their hands and shouted, "Do it again, Harry!"

Harry complied. He let the Golden Snitch slip from his fingertips and let it circle around the Quidditch pitch. Then, he quickly caught up to it, using an S-shaped maneuver to pass several teammates in front of him. Finally, he sharply raised the broom, and in a jumping arc, he whizzed past Katie Bell's head. She was another Chaser, and she gasped as Harry flew by. In the end, he caught the Golden Snitch behind the goalpost, where Angelina Johnson, the third Chaser, and Oliver Wood, the Keeper, were waiting for him.

Under the dark sky, with distant white snow-capped mountains and towering goal hoops as his backdrop, Harry turned on his Firebolt, raised his right hand holding the Golden Snitch, and looked down at the pitch like a Quidditch King.

At this moment, apart from the cheers, there was no other discordant sound on the field. The wind had died down, and the sun had peeked out from behind the clouds, casting a warm light on the Quidditch pitch.

"He flies really well. At least, Malfoy can't compare to Harry."

Hermione clapped her hands and said calmly. She had been worried about Harry's safety, but seeing him fly so skillfully and confidently, she couldn't help but feel proud of him.

"That slimy git can't fly as fast as Hedwig!"

Ron, whose palms were red from clapping, cheered and squeezed through the Gryffindor players who were landing one by one, ready to ask Harry if he would let him try the Firebolt later.

"From what I see, nothing can stop us from winning!"

Wood said firmly, his tone even more resolute than when he was outside Professor Watson's office. He had been the captain of the Gryffindor team for six years, and he had never seen such a perfect performance. He was sure that this year, they would finally win the Quidditch Cup.

"I bet, Harry," Fred patted Harry's shoulder appreciatively and said, "Even the Dementors can't catch up to you."

This was the best training session ever. The appearance of the Firebolt greatly inspired the team members, and even Wood, for the first time, didn't find any faults with them. He praised them for their teamwork, their accuracy, and their speed. 

"Can I try the Firebolt too, Harry?"

Harry's roommate, Seamus, asked eagerly, as he walked over to Harry, who was still holding his broom.

Quidditch, as the most popular sport in the wizarding world, was not an empty claim. It's just that Harry's exceptional talent made his peers pale in comparison. But in fact, most of his classmates had secretly practiced Quidditch, hoping to join the team someday, or at least to have some fun.

"Hey, mate!"

Ron glared at Seamus discontentedly, as he reached Harry's side.

"Harry and I already agreed. You have to line up behind me."

"No one is allowed to touch this broom until the game between us and Ravenclaw is over!"

Wood's voice was stern as he prohibited their request. He had overheard their conversation, and he was not amused. He walked over to Harry, and took the Firebolt from his hands.

Wood was desperate for the Quidditch Cup. He couldn't allow any unexpected incidents to jeopardize Gryffindor's biggest chance of winning. Even if the Firebolt wasn't his, even if the request came from Harry's roommate, he couldn't be swayed. He had to protect the broom, and Harry, from any harm.

Faced with Wood's prohibition, Harry could only innocently shrug at Ron and Seamus, who were disappointed. He understood Wood's concern, and he didn't mind giving up his broom for a while. He knew that Wood would return it to him before the match, and he trusted him to take good care of it.

To witness the Firebolt's brilliance, the Gryffindor wizards hadn't even had breakfast. They had skipped the most important meal of the day, and they were starving. After Wood announced the end of the training, they walked back to the castle in groups of three or two, chatting and laughing. After comforting Ron for a few moments, Harry also prepared to go to the Great Hall to find something to eat and fill his stomach. But as the excitement of his dream coming true faded, he suddenly felt something strange, as if someone was watching him.

Following the direction of the strange feeling, Harry turned his head and immediately showed a surprised expression. He stopped in his tracks, and looked at the bottom step of the stands, where two figures were sitting.

"What's wrong?"

Hermione, who had always been skeptical of the Firebolt, immediately noticed Harry's unease. She followed Harry's gaze and raised her delicate eyebrows when she saw the two figures on the bottom step of the stands.

It was Crookshanks, squatting on the stands and looking in their direction. And, it wasn't alone. There was a dog about the same size as Crookshanks squatting next to it.

"Crookshanks, did you sneak away from Hagrid's place again?"

Realizing what was happening, Hermione happily ran over.

Ron was the last to notice the two small animals by the pitch. When he saw Crookshanks, his face darkened. He reluctantly walked over behind Harry, muttering, "Last time it was that cat named Tom, and now I don't know where it found this dog. This beast is quite good at finding friends for itself. Why can't it give Scabbers a chance to live?"

Harry and Ron approached the bottom of the stands, where Hermione was already holding Crookshanks in her arms, affectionately stroking its furry head. Crookshanks purred loudly, and rubbed his face against Hermione's cheek. He seemed to be very happy to see her.

Ron watched all of this with cold eyes. As for Harry, his attention wasn't on Hermione and her cat. Instead, he was staring at the small black dog crouching on the steps.

'It's really strange.' Harry thought to himself. 'Why does this dog look familiar? And the way It looked at him… hmm, pleased?'

"Oh, Crookshanks!" Hermione rubbed the ginger cat's head, looking a bit guilty but still smiling. "How have you been at Hagrid's, Crookshanks?"

Meow-- Crookshanks purred and licked his paw, then rubbed his furry face against Hermione's hand. 

Seeing that Crookshanks showed no sign of blaming her, Hermione felt even more guilty. She took a deep breath, as if gathering her courage, and then turned to look at Ron, who was standing with Harry.

"Ron, I think it's time for Crookshanks to go back to living in the castle. You can't–"

Hermione couldn't finish her sentence because Ron clearly understood what she meant and his face immediately turned sour. He crossed his arms and glared at her.

"What do you two think–"

Harry interrupted, pointing at something behind Hermione. She turned around and saw a slightly uncomfortable little black dog sitting on the steps leading to Hagrid's hut. 

"Where did Crookshanks find this puppy?" Harry asked, puzzled.

Because of Crookshanks, the atmosphere between Hermione and Ron became a bit awkward. Neither of them answered Harry's question right away. It wasn't until a while later that Hermione sniffed and suppressed her emotions, saying,

"It's hard to say, Harry. Maybe Hagrid thought Fang was feeling a bit lonely, so he found this dog somewhere."

"Maybe we can go ask Hagrid." Harry suggested, looking around for the half-giant gamekeeper.

Ron and Hermione both looked at Harry, surprised by his reaction. The little black dog crouching on the steps seemed reluctant to go to Hagrid's. It tried to escape, but its agility was clearly not as good as Harry's. Harry was quick and nimble, thanks to his Quidditch skills. He caught the dog as soon as it jumped off the steps and couldn't move.

Harry handed the Firebolt hidden under his armpits to Ron, who took it with awe, held the black dog in his arms, and ran towards Hagrid's hut at the edge of the Forbidden Forest. The dog whimpered and struggled, but Harry didn't let go. 

Although Ron and Hermione were a bit puzzled, but seeing Harry so decisive they could only follow him. 

The closed door of the hut explained everything. Hagrid was not there. Harry looked a bit disappointed, but he still didn't give up and looked around. As a result, he found Fang, Hagrid's boarhound, playing with wild goblins in the grassland to the west of the hut.

"Hey, Fang!" Harry called out loudly, and when Fang heard his voice, he immediately gave up playing with the unlucky goblin and happily ran over, wagging his tail. He licked Harry's face, making him laugh.

"Where's Hagrid?" Harry asked, patting Fang's head. "Is he patrolling in the Forbidden Forest?"

Fang shook his head, his eyes looking towards the direction of the school gate. He barked, as if trying to tell Harry something.

"It seems Hagrid is out–"

Ron and Hermione caught up from behind at this time. They were out of breath, and their faces were red. Seeing this scene, Ron shrugged meaninglessly. He didn't care much about Hagrid or the dog. He was more interested in the Firebolt, which he still held in his hands.

"You seem to care a lot about this dog, Harry?" Hermione asked curiously, looking at the dog in Harry's arms. The dog looked nervous and scared, as if it sensed something was wrong. "Is there something wrong with it?"

"I can't say for sure, Hermione–"

Harry hesitated, not sure how to explain his feelings.

"But I feel like I've seen it somewhere before. Hmm, it gives me a very familiar feeling."

"Maybe it's just your imagination, Harry–"

Ron played with the Firebolt that Harry had thrown to him, his eyes scanning the smooth white waxed handle and the perfectly trimmed branches and casually said,

"Or maybe you saw it in Hogsmeade. You know, the villagers who live there like to keep dogs. They can help with hunting and guard the house–"

"You're right, Ron."

Harry agreed, nodding his head. He pursed his lips and put the frightened little Sirius on the ground. They were now in the Hogwarts campus, and if Harry really found any clues and screamed, Sirius couldn't be sure whether it was Bryan, coming fast or the Dementor, the soul-sucking guard, guarding the school gate. Those terrifying creatures wouldn't listen to his explanation. 

"So, what do we do now, Harry? Are you going to leave it here or take it back to the castle?" Hermione asked, looking at the dog with concern.

"Never mind–"

Harry said, shaking his head. He didn't like dogs, and he didn't want to get involved with them. He also didn't want to get detention from Filch, before the first Quidditch match of the school year. 

"Let's leave it here then. Hagrid will take good care of it," Hermione said, "It's Crookshanks's playmate."

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