The Pacifist Necromancer of Hogwarts

Chapter 369 A Quidditch Match That Couldn't Be Relaxed
As dawn broke, the morning mist still lingered in the woods. He half-closed his eyes, a surge of impatient, overwhelming joy welling up within him. He knew that in less than a day, everything would be ready… He had waited so patiently, and now the day of harvest had finally arrived… People would realize that he truly was invincible…

"Wake up, Harry, wake up!"

“Hmm?” Harry mumbled, opening his eyes. As he fumbled for his glasses, he vaguely saw Ron standing beside his four-poster bed, one hand lifting the curtain.

“You’re laughing out loud,” Ron said, sounding somewhat alarmed. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know. I had a dream.” Harry finally put his glasses on. “What time is it?” He glanced out the window. It was still pitch black outside.

"Around three or four o'clock, I'm not sure."

"Hmm...okay..." Harry mumbled sleepily, turning over with his glasses on and closing his eyes again. When he woke up again, he realized he had bent the temples of his glasses askew. He tried to straighten them, but couldn't, so he just hung them askew on his ears, picked up Nimbus 2000, and went with Ron to the common room to meet Hermione before going downstairs for breakfast. Hermione kept muttering "SPEW," and only when they reached the foyer did she notice that Harry looked a little different than usual.

"What's wrong with your glasses? And why do you keep rubbing your forehead?"

“I forgot to take it off before I went to sleep,” Harry explained, taking his hand off the scar on his forehead. “It hurts. Probably because I didn’t sleep well.”

Ron said, "He laughed loudly in the middle of the night and woke me up. Neville said he was actually awake too, but he didn't dare to make a sound."

"What's making you so happy?" Hermione asked skeptically.

“No, it wasn’t a pleasant dream,” Harry said, somewhat agitated, his scar still throbbing. “It was a strange dream. I have a very bad feeling about it.”

“It’s just a dream, think about something happy,” Ron encouraged. “Think about it: the exams are over, there’s a Quidditch celebration match today, and even better, we won’t see the Slytherin guys in this match. Oh, and we even won the Quidditch Cup!”

“If we take into account the extra points for winning the Quidditch Cup, Gryffindor might even be able to win the House Cup this year!” Hermione added.

“Also, in a few days you’ll be going on vacation with Sirius,” Ron said. “You can invite me to Black’s old house then; you promised to let me try out Sirius’s motorcycle—”

A loud snicker suddenly came from behind them. Harry turned around and saw Draco Malfoy. Crabbe and Goyle stood behind Malfoy, staring at them with unfriendly expressions.

“You’ve never seen what a proper wizarding family mansion should look like, have you, Weasley?” Malfoy said sarcastically. “Yes, you’ve always lived in a stinking junkyard, scavenging for scraps and secondhand goods.”

Ron's face flushed red with anger.

“Nobody ever taught you how to talk, did they, Malfoy?” Harry said coldly.

"Eager for a vacation, Potter, who's been unwanted for so long?" Malfoy drawled, his words carrying a hidden meaning. "If I were you, I wouldn't be so happy so soon. You know, that would seem incredibly foolish."

Even after they sat down at the long table, Ron and Hermione couldn't cheer Harry up. Hermione kept saying that Malfoy was just jealous because the Black family seemed to fit their pure-blood theory better than the Malfoys. But Harry only managed a few bites of bread before losing his appetite, partly because his forehead was still aching, and partly because Malfoy had indeed hit on some of his worries: he didn't want to be happy too soon.

……

Harry emerged from the dressing room, clutching his flying broomstick. Wood had fixed his glasses for him. The weather was beautiful; the goalposts gleamed in the sunlight. He took a deep breath, then slowly exhaled, reminding himself to stay focused. He spotted Ron, Hermione, Dean, and Seamus in the stands and waved to them. Hagrid was there too, Neville sitting next to him, squeezed into half a seat, looking rather cramped.

The Hufflepuff captain stood in the middle of the field, a gleaming silver whistle around his neck, gesturing for the Gryffindor team to come over. They had pre-booked the field under the guise of Quidditch practice, so the celebration wasn't a formal match and there were no professional referees. The teams had agreed beforehand that the captain of the remaining team would act as referee during the match between the two teams.

“Look over there, Harry.” Wood put his arm around Harry’s shoulder and whispered, “Ravenclaw’s Seeker this time is their backup Seeker, that dark-haired girl, Cho Chang, a third-year student. I heard she’ll officially replace Cassandra next year—you know, Cassandra’s almost a seventh-year student, she needs to prepare for exams and internships, she doesn’t seem to be planning to become a pro, what a shame—anyway, we don’t know this new Seeker’s style yet, your goal today is to keep an eye on her, she can’t possibly fly better than you…”

Harry glanced in the opposite direction a few times and spotted the girl. The sunlight was a bit blinding, and Wood's voice seemed to come and go.

Suddenly, Wood slapped his arm: "Alright, that's it!" Harry snapped back to reality, realizing he hadn't been paying attention to the tactical instructions at all.

After the two captains shook hands, the whistle blew, and Harry flipped onto his broom, pushed off the ground, and soared into the air. The wind whipped across his face, clearing his head considerably. He hovered in mid-air, watching for the Golden Snitch on the field while keeping an eye on the Ravenclaw Seeker. The girl flew lower than him, also intently searching every corner of the field. She flew fast and steadily, but Harry soon realized that her turns weren't as agile as his, probably because her broom was older…

A flash of gold appeared on the sidelines.

Harry immediately flew in that direction. The Ravenclaw Seeker, seemingly unaware, was still flying low. Her captain shouted something at her, and she looked up at Harry, then rushed over, swinging her broom horizontally in front of him, blocking his view. Harry pulled his broom up and flew over her, but the Golden Snitch had vanished.

Harry looked down, and the Ravenclaw Seeker smiled at him—a beautiful smile. Harry's scar began to throb again. He blinked hard and looked for the Golden Snitch once more.

"What's wrong with you?" Wood flew over to his side, frowning. "You should have knocked her down! This is not the time to be a gentleman!" He finished speaking and rushed down, just in time to block a Quake that was being thrown toward the Gryffindor goal.

“Okay,” Harry said, letting out a slow, heavy breath. He hadn’t had a chance to tell Wood that he wasn’t feeling well today.

The sun beat down on his back. He felt alternating between hot and cold. When the Ravenclaw Seeker blocked his way again, he rolled over, hanging upside down from his broom, and continued charging forward. Cho Chang, caught off guard, couldn't stop him and immediately followed suit. One of the Weasley twins intercepted a very accurate Running Ball for Harry, sending it hurtling towards Cho Chang, knocking her off balance but also obstructing Harry's view for a few seconds. The Golden Snitch had vanished again.

Halil pulled his broom high, flying back into the air, his vision blurring. He couldn't help but feel thankful he hadn't eaten much for breakfast, otherwise he might have vomited on the field.

He didn't see the Golden Snitch again after an unknown amount of time, but his headache was getting worse. He began to hope the match would end quickly, whether he or his opponent caught the Golden Snitch. He paused in mid-air, squeezed his eyes shut, hoping to ease his increasingly blurry vision…

He stood high in a forest, pointing his wand down at a man, his heart filled with rage and cold-blooded pleasure… His plans had been nearly ruined, his enemies had seen him weakened, his incompetent servants… The man convulsed under the Cruciatus Curse, raising his head to stare at him with hatred…

"Harry! Harry!"

He opened his eyes, staring in alarm at the face before him. It wasn't Sirius Black's hateful face. Ravenclaw's Seeker, Cho Chang, stood beside him, looking at him with inquisitive concern.

"Is the game over?" Harry steadied his broom, asking irritably. "Did you catch the Snitch?"

“No,” Qiu Zhang said. “Our tactic was to have me keep an eye on you. I noticed you weren’t moving, so I flew up to check on you. Are you alright?”

“I’m alright,” Harry said gruffly, scanning the area for Wood. He needed to pause. He needed to check on Sirius’s safety. “That’s good,” Cho Chang said, her tone cooler. She pulled her broom and flew back down.

The sun beat down brightly on Harry's head, and the glare from the goalposts seemed to obstruct his vision. His head throbbed, and he could barely make out the figures below. The red and blue jerseys gradually blended into one, dissolving into the lush green grass…

He was surrounded by a swamp, snakes writhing and crawling around him, and scattered white bone fragments... Sirius leaned against a tree, Anthony stood beside him, seemingly doing something... He sensed that everything was about to be ready...

"Avada Kedavra!" he cried, and a beam of green light shot from the tip of his staff, heading straight for the person beside the tree... Everything must come to an end, and everything will have a new beginning. He is returning, and the death of Dumbledore's men will be a good prologue... He laughed heartily...

He faintly heard gasps of surprise. The next moment, he knew nothing more.

……

When Harry woke up, he felt terrible all over, but nothing hurt as much as his head. He frowned…headache…nightmare…

He jolted awake, sat up, and gasped for breath. Ron and Hermione were standing by his bed, staring at him, seemingly startled. Hermione's eyes were red.

“Sirius,” Harry said urgently to them, “Sirius, stay with Professor Anthony.”

“We know,” Ron said, puzzled.

“No, they’re in danger,” Harry said, rolling off the bed and nearly losing his balance. He then realized he was in the university hospital. Madam Pomfrey entered with medicine, looking at him sternly.

“You’re not going anywhere right now, Mr. Potter.” She came over and shoved Harry back onto the bed without a word, then shooed Ron and Hermione out. “You were lucky this time. Angelina Johnson caught your broom, Wood stopped you in mid-air, and Davis cast a softening spell on the ground. Diggory cast a nearly successful slowing spell, which helped a lot.”

She watched as Harry drank two or three potions and cast a whole host of spells on him. But Harry wasn't paying any attention to what she was doing; his mind was preoccupied with Sirius's dirty face and a green light flashing before his eyes. He begged and pleaded with Madam Pomfrey, making a whole bunch of promises he barely heard, before she finally agreed to let him go back to his dormitory to rest.

Harry had just run up the stairs of the Gryffindor Tower when he ran into Ron and Hermione hurrying down.

"Here you go." Ron shoved the two-way mirror into Harry's hand.

"Sirius?" Harry called out to the mirror, "Sirius!"

He stared intently at the mirror, hoping to see Sirius's gray eyes reflected in it. Sirius never failed to respond. Whenever he took out the two-way mirror, as long as he spoke Sirius's name into it, he would hear a reply.

He can only see his own eyes.

“Maybe Sirius is busy right now,” Hermione said cautiously. “You see, you’ve never called him at this time, have you?”

“Something’s happened to him,” Harry said firmly, glancing around. “Professor Dumbledore—I need to tell Professor Dumbledore.”

He ran down again. Ron and Hermione followed behind him.

“Harry? Are you alright?” Angelina saw Harry as she went upstairs. “Oh dear, Oliver is so remorseful. He said he didn’t know you weren’t feeling well today. Professor McGonagall is probably yelling at him right now.”

Harry ignored her and rushed into the foyer. Ron and Hermione seemed to be hurriedly explaining something to Angelina. As he ran down the corridor, Filch shouted something at him, but he paid no attention… Suddenly, he bumped into someone.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he mumbled, trying to walk around it.

A cold, smooth voice rang out above him: "Why are you running around campus, Potter? What are you plotting? I heard you just made quite a splash."

Harry looked up. Snape stood there with his arms crossed, looking down at him.

“It’s nothing, Professor,” Harry said, using all his self-control. “I need to speak with Professor Dumbledore about something…”

“Professor Dumbledore,” Snape paused, speaking softly, “is a very busy man, not one to concern himself with the trivialities of a second-year student. Not even if you are the famous Harry Potter.” His gaze moved from Harry’s face to his hands. “What are you holding?”

“A mirror,” Harry said impatiently.

“A mirror,” Snape repeated slowly. “Let me see it.”

“There are lots of mirrors in the bathroom,” Harry said. “Go ahead and look around if you want.”

Ron and Hermione, who had just caught up, gasped upon hearing his words. Snape's eyes narrowed.

“Give it to me, Potter,” he said coldly.

Harry reluctantly handed him the mirror. "Nothing special, just an ordinary mirror." In his anxiety, he couldn't help but pray that Sirius would suddenly appear in the mirror and startle Snape. Even if Snape immediately smashed the mirror, it didn't matter. Even if Snape deducted fifty points from Gryffindor, it didn't matter. As long as Sirius appeared, they would treat the story as a joke and laugh heartily every time it was mentioned.

Snape looked at himself in the mirror.

“Strange thing. I’m sure it’s some kind of magical artifact,” Snape said. “It’s probably tainted with dark magic. Five points will be deducted from Gryffindor’s record for bringing a suspicious magical artifact into the school.”

Snape turned the mirror over, looked at the pattern on the back, then looked up at Harry. Harry was staring intently at him. Snape seemed amused and a slight smile played on his lips.

"Confiscate it, Potter."

Harry had never hated Snape this much.

(End of this chapter)