Chapter 300: Harry's Narrow Escape
Chapter 300: Harry's Narrow Escape
With Marcus Flint injured and out of the game, Gryffindor finally had a chance to catch their breath and scored a goal, narrowing the gap.
The score was now 10 to 50... a significant difference, but at least they weren't scoreless anymore.
As soon as the Bludger resumed its normal behavior, Harry noticed and began to speed up, squinting through the silvery curtain of rain to search for the Golden Snitch.
Harry was anxious.
Unsure if the Bludger's normal behavior would last, and with the point gap widening, he had to catch the Snitch and end the game as soon as possible.
"Were you practicing ballet, Potter?" Malfoy flew deliberately close to him and shouted, "I never knew you had a talent for it. Maybe you should sign up for the Skull Dance Troupe!"
Harry was annoyed by Malfoy's taunts and couldn't help but glance back at him. And it was at that moment that he saw... the Golden Snitch flying between the two of them.
Without hesitation, Harry gave chase.
Malfoy reacted a little slower.
Although he started off quite far behind, he gradually closed the distance between them thanks to his superior broomstick.
"It's the Golden Snitch... Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy have spotted it... They're speeding up!"
From the commentary box, Lee Jordan shouted excitedly, "The Golden Snitch has changed direction... Harry Potter is hot on its trail, maintaining a distance of less than two feet... Draco Malfoy is falling behind... Looks like a superior broomstick isn't everything after all."
The distance between Harry and the Golden Snitch was shrinking. His fingertips could almost touch the Snitch's wings... But just then, one of the Bludgers suddenly changed direction and headed straight for them.
This time, Harry didn't dodge. He let go of his broom and lunged forward, grabbing the Golden Snitch firmly in his hand.
However, at the same moment, his arm was hit by the Bludger and broken.
There was a loud splash as Harry tumbled off his broom, falling into the muddy field below. His arm hung at an odd angle.
Cheers erupted from the stands.
Kyle was also delighted... For the first time in three years, he had managed to watch the entire first game, which was definitely worth celebrating.
As the crowd chanted Harry's name, Kyle also noticed that the house-elf Dobby hurriedly left the Quidditch stadium.
Behind Dobby, Kaka was enthusiastically whacking Dobby on the head with a cleaning broom, as if to discipline the other house-elf.
This was how house-elves resolved their conflicts... simple and brutal, without magic, just a good old-fashioned beating.
Kyle raised an eyebrow, wondering if the Bludger that had suddenly changed direction at the end had anything to do with Dobby... If so, the little creature certainly held a grudge.
It was a pity about Harry, though. Kyle had thought that at least he would be able to save that arm.
After the game ended, Madam Hooch transported Harry to the edge of the field, next to Marcus Flint, intending to send them both to the school hospital together.
A crowd gathered around them.
Dazed, Harry saw a row of sparkling white teeth.
"Oh, no, not you," he groaned.
"What are you saying, do you want me to heal your arm?" Lockhart shouted to the students gathered around, "Don't worry, I was just about to do that."
He drew out his wand...
"Now, which one of you should I heal first?"
Harry was immensely grateful that he hadn't passed out. He raised his uninjured hand and pointed shakily at Marcus Flint, "Him, he's more seriously hurt."
"What a kind and considerate young man." Lockhart wiped away a tear, touched by the gesture, "Don't worry, it will only take me a blink of an eye to heal either of you. So let's start with the one closest to me.
Harry struggled to sit up.
"Now, now, lie back down," Lockhart said, raising his wand. "This is just a simple spell, one I've performed countless times before..."
"Professor Lockhart..."
Kyle squeezed his way through the crowd and whispered to Lockhart, "I know you can definitely heal them, but perhaps we should leave this to Madam Pomfrey... Otherwise, she might be out of a job."
"And I'm sure everyone would much rather hear your thoughts on the match just now."
"Oh... You're absolutely right. I shouldn't steal Wood's thunder," Lockhart said, patting his head. "My apologies, I'm so used to healing injured folks during my travels... I hope Wood can forgive me."
"But speaking of Quidditch, you've asked the right person. The Appleby Arrows invited me to join their team not once, but twice. However, I had to decline due to my commitment to saving villagers plagued by Werewolves of Wagga.
In fact, just last July, they sent me another invitation... It arrived the day after Dumbledore came to see me. If only their invitation had come a couple of days earlier, I might be out there on the pitch right now."
His words caused quite a stir... Even now, he still had many admirers within the school.
As for Harry, who was lying on the ground, he breathed a sigh of relief.
"Thanks..." he whispered to Kyle.
Fred and George pushed their way through the crowd. Taking advantage of Lockhart rambling on about his flying skills, they lifted Harry and hurried toward the hospital wing.
...
Everything went smoothly, and Madam Pomfrey had Harry's arm reattached in a second.
However, she looked a little displeased.
"Every year there are injuries... This sport is too dangerous. I don't understand why Dumbledore doesn't ban it."
She handed a bottle of potion to Harry. "Drink this, it will aid your recovery..."
Harry took the potion without a word and took a sip.
Even though he was prepared, the taste still made him almost throw up. It tasted just like the water the Dursleys used to wash pots, and he had to clench his jaw to stop himself from retching.
"I thought there were supposed to be two injured people?" Madam Pomfrey looked around. "Why is it only you?"
Just then, the Slytherins carried Marcus Flint into the hospital wing and placed him on a bed as far away from Harry as possible.
Enemies glared at each other, and the Slytherins didn't hide their disdain for the Gryffindor team members.
However, they didn't dare cause a scene in the hospital wing, so they settled for giving Harry dirty looks.
"His nose is broken, and he's lost several teeth..." Madam Pomfrey examined Marcus and frowned. "Dumbledore really should ban this dangerous sport!"
"Actually, Madam Pomfrey, Quidditch isn't that dange—"
Before Malfoy could finish his sentence, Madam Pomfrey shot him a look, and he wisely shut his mouth.
Ever since his stay in the hospital wing a few days ago, Malfoy had developed a fear of Madam Pomfrey and her horrible-tasting potions.
The thought made Malfoy's face turn even paler, and he unconsciously glanced toward the door.
He had intended to find an opportunity to mock Harry, but now, all he wanted was to get out of there as soon as possible.
(End of Chapter)
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