Chapter 19 Quidditch Match

Chapter 19

Time flew by, and another Quidditch match was about to start, marking Harry's second game, with Gryffindor facing Hufflepuff.

Malfoy was enviously cursing Potter, hoping he would fall off his broom this time. Gryffindor would need to send a hundred people to carry a mattress to follow Potter, to keep him from falling and getting injured.

When the match was set to begin, Malfoy impatiently pulled Brian to the field, gleefully informing him that Professor Snape was the referee this time, which would surely be entertaining.

And it was indeed entertaining, as Snape wore a stern expression, consistently finding minor infractions to penalize the Hufflepuff team, making Malfoy laugh heartily. He even poked Ron in the back of the head, distracting them.

"See that? Your team is useless except for being pathetic, choosing players who are orphans or so poor they eat dirt. Are they just here to share their sob stories?" Malfoy taunted, "Always committing fouls, Professor Snape won't be lenient with you."

Ron ignored him; he knew it would only provoke him further.

Hermione didn't catch what he was saying; her hands were tightly gripping her robe, her eyes focused intently on Harry, looking extremely anxious.

Malfoy found it dull and turned to Neville: "Dim-witted Longbottom, maybe you can aspire to join the Gryffindor team next year. An orphan, a pauper, and a dimwit—that's the ideal Gryffindor team."

Neville's face turned bright red as he buried his head deep down.

"Oh, Malfoy, if you dare say another word..." Ron could no longer contain himself; he had been worried about Harry.

"Do you think Dumbledore is your savior? He has never cared about you," Malfoy continued to mock.

Brian glanced in Dumbledore's direction and noticed he had just looked up to meet his gaze; their eyes locked, and Dumbledore blinked.

"Hey, Draco, enough of that nonsense. Why not start your prediction about who will win this match?" Brian couldn't bear to listen any longer and tugged at Malfoy's robe.

"Heh, isn't it obvious? If Potter and his team win, I'll eat my robe," Malfoy temporarily spared Weasley, watching as Snape penalized the Gryffindor team again, he raised his chin.

As soon as he finished speaking, they saw Harry making a stunning dive on the field, which drew gasps from the stands.

"Clearly, Potter has found some money on the ground," Malfoy said, forcing a grin.

Hermione screamed and jumped onto her seat, cheering for Harry.

Ron lunged at Malfoy; he had been holding back for too long. The two tumbled into a ball under the seats. Crabbe and Goyle rushed over to assist, but a braver Neville blocked them, and they got into a scuffle.

Brian watched as Harry dove down through the air, quickly halting his descent. He raised his arm, displaying the golden snitch in his hand.

The stands erupted, and after checking his newly acquired 0.3 witness points, Brian pulled out his wand from his robe pocket.

Matches involving the savior always seem to yield more rewards.

"Draco, Crabbe, Goyle, stop fighting," Brian pointed his wand at the struggling group under the seats.

"Dimitte fortitudinem!" Seeing Crabbe and Goyle pounding on Neville, Brian shouted at them.

The two couldn't help but release their grip, and poor Neville had taken quite a beating, his cheeks swollen and his face pale.

"Weasley, let go of Draco's hair..." Brian saw Ron pulling Malfoy's blonde hair, repeatedly punching Malfoy's face with one hand, and he cast the same spell on Ron but this time he waited a few seconds to let Draco experience the consequences of his words.

Malfoy, with one eye blackened, was freed from Ron's punches, but before Brian could pull him away, one of his fists landed hard on Ron's nose.

"Ron, where are you? Harry won! We won!" Hermione screamed. Ron wiped his nosebleed, glaring fiercely at Malfoy and Brian.

Brian looked innocent. Inside, he was laughing after seeing their conditions; however, in the end, it was his magic that had helped him.

"Well, Malfoy, what did you just say? If Harry wins, you'll eat your robe!" Ron said triumphantly, staring at Malfoy.

Malfoy's cheeks flushed slightly; he covered his bruised eye and spoke haughtily, "You hurt me, Weasley. I'm going to tell my dad about this, and he'll have you expelled from Hogwarts..."

Brian noticed Malfoy's embarrassment and helplessly dragged him away from the noisy stands.

"What did I tell you, Hermione? Walker is just another bad seed; he's always helping Malfoy deal with us," Ron said, rubbing his sore nose as Hermione hurried over.

"Oh, Neville, you need to go to the hospital wing. Let's go," Hermione nodded vaguely at Ron and turned to help Neville up.

"You shouldn't have stopped me, Brian. I wanted to teach that Weasley a lesson," Malfoy said slowly, raising his sharp chin after they had moved away from the stands.

"It seems like getting your face swollen like a tomato is not enough for you; anyway, if you want to exchange a few extra moves, you are free to go, and Professor Dumbledore is over there," Brian said sarcastically and began to walk forward, leaving Malfoy behind.

"Hey; you're right, it's not worth being punished just to teach Weasley a lesson," Malfoy rushed behind, scratching his swollen face.

Brian looked at Malfoy's bruised eye and raised his wand. "I've recently learned a healing spell; it might make you feel a bit better; let me try it on you."

"No, I'd rather go to the hospital wing," Malfoy dodged his wand, covering his eye.

"You don't trust me?" Brian insisted.

"Let go of me! I don't want to open my eyes and find my head turned into a toad or something!" Malfoy broke free from Brian's grasp and ran off with Crabbe and Goyle.

...

In the evening, Brian arrived at Quirrell's office and brought him a bottle of potion.

"No, I can't... I can't do it; I can't do anything... Please, Master..."

Outside Quirrell's office, Brian faintly heard a trembling voice pleading.

"Okay... alright... I understand..." The voice paused for a moment and then sobbed softly.

Brian lingered outside until the voice completely disappeared. He knocked on the door and walked in.

"Don't come by randomly for a while; Snape is starting to suspect me," Quirrell said, his face growing even paler, trembling slightly.

"Is that so? So what will you do?" Brian said, hiding his urge to laugh.

"Don't worry, he hasn't found any evidence; he can't do anything to me," Quirrell sneered. "Today he warned me in the Forbidden Forest, but there's no doubt he has no way to stop me."

"As a former supporter of the Dark Lord, he's truly a traitor, constantly trying to prove his worth in front of Dumbledore like a dog," Quirrell mocked.

"I've already learned from that big oaf Hagrid how to get past that big dog; your method was quite good," Quirrell praised. "That dragon egg has him so enchanted that he couldn't find his way; I easily got him drunk and asked what I wanted to know."

"Then you can go retrieve what's inside?" Brian said, his eyes lighting up with excitement.

"Not quite yet; I need to find a way to heal my body and ensure I'm in good condition," Quirrell said, touching his large scarf, his lips turning pale. "Perhaps I need to look for a unicorn in the Forbidden Forest."

"The protective barriers set by the other professors are nothing to me," he murmured, "but what exactly is Dumbledore's barrier?"

"You could try to find out," he said to Brian. "Of course, it's difficult; don't get too close to Dumbledore; he can see what you're thinking."

"Just keep an eye out for some information; don't expose us," Quirrell instructed.

"Of course, Professor," Brian said, displaying a nearly perfect smile.

...

"Hagrid has obtained the dragon egg..." Brian thought as he walked out of Quirrell's office, pondering whether he could gain some witness points from this matter.

Obtaining witness points was too difficult; he could only seize every possible plot that could yield witness points. If he continued to learn step by step, by the time Voldemort resurrected, his level wouldn't be much stronger than Hermione's at that time. He needed to gain enough power to protect himself and even control the plot.

As Brian was lost in thought and walking forward, a figure blocked his path.