110 The Game Begins!
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The audience went wild, their cheers echoing off the castle walls. Following Harry's broomstick was a serpent, shimmering in green and silver, enhancing the spectacle. Floating above him, the Slytherin Crest, made of light, appeared in the air with Harry beneath, triumphantly holding the golden Snitch.
"Slytherin won the first game of the season, in 3 seconds! The new Seeker showed everyone that he might be a first year, but he is no amateur!" Lee Jordan continued, his voice filled with a mix of awe and excitement.
In the VIP section, influential witches and wizards, initially surprised, now burst into applause, their faces alight with admiration. Whispers of 'Harry Potter, the prodigy Seeker,' and 'Did you see that flip?' filled the air. The Nimbus Racing Broom Company representatives, in particular, were visibly thrilled, seeing their investment pay off spectacularly.
On the Gryffindor side, Oliver Wood's expression was one of shock and envy. The Gryffindor team, dejected, looked blank. They couldn't even score one goal.
In the Slytherin section, the cheers were deafening. Daphne and Tracey were jumping up and down, their faces alight with pride. Malfoy, Zabini, and Nott looked on, their initial disbelief now turned into smug satisfaction.
Professor McGonagall, perched on the edge of the teachers' stand, couldn't hide her shock and a hint of envy as she watched Harry Potter, the newest sensation of the Slytherin Quidditch team. How she wished he were wearing Gryffindor's colors. Beside her, Professor Snape wore a smug expression, his initial skepticism about Harry's participation in the game now replaced by a sense of vindication. He had doubted the wisdom of allowing a first-year student, especially one as smart as Harry, to waste his time in games when he could study. But as he watched Harry's performance, Snape realized that this was not just a whimsical pursuit of a teenager; Harry had a plan, and he had the capability to execute it flawlessly.
Madam Hooch, still reeling from the shock of what she'd just witnessed, managed to gather her composure. Blowing her whistle, she declared in a voice that struggled to hide her astonishment, "Winner: Slytherin. 150 and nothing." The announcement only intensified the cheering from the stands, especially the Slytherin section, where the jubilation reached fever pitch.
The press, scattered around the pitch with their Quick-Quote Quills and cameras, were capturing every moment. This was not just a regular Quidditch match; it was an event that would be talked about for years to come. Harry Potter, the boy who lived, had turned a Quidditch match into a display of sheer talent and showmanship.
"How is this for showing off, Nigel?" Harry asked internally, a sly grin on his face, the crowd's cheers still echoing in his ears.
"Master Harry, you exceed my every expectation. Here I thought you couldn't be more showy, and yet you prove me wrong," Nigel's voice responded in Harry's mind, tinged with a mixture of amusement and disbelief.
Harry chuckled silently, feeling the thrill of his achievement. He opened his palm, and his custom-made Nimbus 2000, as if responding to an unspoken command, flew gracefully into his hand. Standing on his broomstick, Harry floated around the pitch once, basking in the adulation, then flew away, leaving a trail of green and silver sparks in his wake. "This was easy," he thought to himself, his confidence soaring as high as he was.
"Of course, it was easy when you had a cheat like me," Nigel chimed in, his voice carrying a hint of pride and sarcasm.
Harry smirked, "Like I said before, everything is permissible in the game of power and influence."
As Harry flew back towards the castle, the energy from the Quidditch pitch seemed to follow him. His mind was already racing with the next steps, the new opportunities that this game had opened up for him. His performance on the Quidditch field was not just a show of physical prowess; it was a strategic move in the complex chess game of Hogwarts politics.
Nigel's voice, always ready with a witty remark, added, "Well, Master Harry, I dare say you've just set a new standard for Quidditch at Hogwarts. How do you plan to top this in your next game?"
Harry chuckled, a plan already forming in his mind. "Topping it? You got it wrong, Nigel. I will not do such a thing. Instead, I will do the opposite."
Nigel, his tone laced with curiosity, probed further. "No? Do tell, Master Harry."
Harry, walking through the empty corridors of Hogwarts, his footsteps echoing softly, elaborated on his strategy. The distant cheers from the Quidditch pitch were still audible, a testament to his recent triumph. "It's all about managing expectations, Nigel. If I perform spectacularly in every game, it will become mundane, expected. But if I occasionally pull off something extraordinary, interspersed with more average performances, it creates a sense of unpredictability. People will be drawn to my games, eager to witness those moments of brilliance."
Nigel, understanding Harry's approach, responded in his typical fashion. "Ah, the art of keeping them guessing. A classic tactic. Keep them on their toes, eh?"
Harry nodded to himself, pleased with Nigel's comprehension. "Exactly. It's about crafting a narrative, a story where I am the unpredictable hero. This way, I maintain intrigue and interest around my persona."
Arriving at the kitchen, Harry was greeted by Tweak, the Slytherin House Elf, whose big eyes widened even further in surprise. "Sir Potter! Welcome!" Tweak exclaimed, his head tilting curiously. "Aren't you supposed to be at the game?"
Harry, still riding the high from his Quidditch triumph, chuckled lightly. "The game's over, Tweak. But it's left me quite famished. Could you whip up something for me?"
Tweak, ever the diligent house elf, nodded vigorously, his large ears flapping. "Of course, Sir Potter! Right away, right away. Tweak be preparing something delicious now!" he said.
As Tweak busied himself, Harry settled into a chair, watching the elves move around the kitchen with remarkable agility. Nigel, never one to miss an opportunity for commentary, spoke up in Harry's mind. "You do realize, Master Harry, that after today's performance, your life at Hogwarts will never be the same. You're not just a student anymore; you're a spectacle."
Harry smirked at Nigel's observation. "That was the plan, Nigel. The whole reason was this."
Nigel's voice carried a hint of mirth. "Oh, I'm all for a bit of excitement, but be prepared for the attention, both wanted and unwanted. You've just painted a rather large target on your back."
Harry watched as Tweak brought over a plate of steaming food, the aroma filling the kitchen. "Thanks, Tweak. This looks fantastic," he complimented, picking up a fork and diving in.
Tweak beamed with pride. "Tweak be happy to serve Sir Potter. Tweak be hope you like it!"
Harry sat in the kitchen, savoring his meal. The flavors of the food, meticulously prepared by Tweak, were delightful, yet his mind was already plotting his next moves.
"I was known for my academic excellence, and now I excel in sports as well. People who saw me merely as a nerdy memorizer, perhaps slightly adept in spellcasting, will now reconsider their views," Harry mused in his mind, a forkful of food paused mid-air. "This notoriety is essential for securing the title of Serpent of the Crown. While the exact criteria for selection by the Room are still unclear, Selena hinted that the most fitting Slytherin would be chosen. Fame, cunning, magical prowess, intelligence - I'll demonstrate them all. Once I gain the title, I'll wield control over Slytherin, extending my influence to the other houses. When I establish a certain influence in the whole school, our journey in the game of politics will truly begin."
Nigel chimed in Harry's mind, "Ah, the ambitious mastermind at work. A commendable strategy, Master Harry. But do remember, with great power comes great danger- and a fair share of headaches."
Harry smiled faintly, acknowledging Nigel's cautionary words. "True, Nigel. But power is a necessary tool to shape the future I envision. And as for headaches, well, that's what potions are for, aren't they?"
Nigel, unable to resist a quip, replied, "Ah, yes, the potion for headache relief. One of Hogwarts' unsung heroes. But do tread carefully, Master Harry. The path of power is fraught with pitfalls."
Harry nodded in agreement with Nigel's warning, his mind sharp and alert despite the exhilarating day. "I've read enough Greek tragedies to know what hamartia can bring. But I have you, Nigel, my ever-watchful eye," he said, his tone laced with a mix of confidence and reliance.
Nigel responded, his voice carrying a proud yet sarcastic undertone, "Indeed, you have me, the beacon of wisdom in your sea of ambition. Just remember, even the brightest beacon can't save a ship determined to crash against the rocks."
Harry chuckled softly at Nigel's characteristic wit as he thanked Tweak for the meal and left the kitchen. The once-empty corridors of Hogwarts were now abuzz with students, their conversations revolving around the day's sensational Quidditch match.
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