Quidditch Match

On a cold November morning, the Quidditch pitch was roaring with noise as Gryffindor faced Slytherin. Harry Potter, playing Seeker, darted nimbly through the air on his Nimbus 2000, searching for the Golden Snitch.

Wrapped in a thick cloak, Silas sat in the Gryffindor stands with Hermione and Ron. He was not particularly interested in Quidditch itself; he was mainly there for the spectacle, and to see whether Harry's broom was really as obedient as people claimed.

Suddenly, something went wrong!

Harry's broom began to shake and twist violently, like a maddened wild horse desperately trying to throw him off! Harry clung tightly to the handle with both hands, his whole body swaying dangerously in midair as he seemed about to be flung down at any moment!

"What's wrong with Harry's broom?!" Hermione screamed in terror.

Ron's face went pale with fright as well. "It looks like it's been cursed!"

Gasps erupted from the stands. Silas, however, swept his sharp gaze toward the teachers' stand. At once, he saw Professor Quirrell with his head lowered, his lips moving rapidly and soundlessly, his eyes fixed firmly on Harry in the air—he was casting the curse!

Silas's expression turned cold, and fury rushed to his head. Without thinking, he raised his right hand as magic surged within him.

But just as the spell was about to leave his lips, he stopped himself by force. He suddenly remembered Dumbledore's "oath," and more importantly, he realized that Quirrell's target was Harry. For the moment, Quirrell had not provoked him personally.

In that split second, he changed his mind. He spread the fingers of his right hand and aimed at Quirrell in the teachers' stand, firing out a scarlet beam of energy!

"Sekern Red Belt!"

Whoosh—!

Several blazing scarlet energy ropes, like red-hot branding irons, wrapped precisely around the arm Professor Quirrell was using to cast the spell! The ropes instantly tightened. Their powerful restraint not only interrupted his curse, but bound his entire arm so tightly that he could not move it at all!

"Ah—!" Quirrell let out an exaggerated scream of terror, naturally pretending. "What's going on?! Who's attacking me?!"

Harry's broom immediately returned to normal, and he shakily climbed back into a secure position.

"Silas!" Hermione seized Silas's arm in disbelief. "What are you doing?! Why are you attacking Professor Quirrell?!"

Silas pointed at Quirrell and said angrily, "Can't you see it? He was the one cursing Harry's broom just now! If Snape hadn't been watching him and trying to counter it, Harry would've been smashed into a pancake by now! That bastard!"

The more he spoke, the angrier he became. Looking at Quirrell's falsely innocent face, especially that garlic-smelling scarf around his head—with Voldemort's aura lingering on it—malice rose in his heart.

"Damn it! Just looking at you pisses me off! You don't even teach properly in class! That garlic-stinking scarf of yours nearly made me throw up during the first lesson! I'm dragging you over here right now and tearing off that damn scarf hiding something filthy underneath! Let everyone see what the hell you really are!"

With a thought, the Sekern Red Belt produced a powerful pulling force. It dragged the screaming, struggling Quirrell toward the edge of the teachers' stand!

The entire stadium erupted in uproar! The students were stunned, while the professors all rose to their feet.

Professor Snape, standing not far from Quirrell, watched as Quirrell was securely bound by the red energy ropes and forcibly dragged away. On his perpetually gloomy face, the corner of his mouth seemed to twitch upward ever so slightly. A flash of satisfaction and approval passed through his black eyes.

Good job, kid. Your methods were a little rash, but you picked the right target.

Of course, he knew something was wrong with Quirrell, and he had been secretly watching and opposing him all along. Silas's reckless action had disrupted his plans, but it had also publicly torn apart Quirrell's disguise in the most direct way possible, leaving him immensely satisfied.

For a time, the scene was utter chaos. In his own unique way, Silas had stirred up a storm at Hogwarts. Professor Quirrell—and the one on the back of his head—had been plunged into a sudden and deeply embarrassing crisis.

Just as Quirrell lost his balance from the pull of the Sekern Red Belt and staggered toward the Gryffindor stands, a flash of golden light appeared before Silas. A massive portal opened instantly! On the other side was not anywhere inside the castle, but a desolate clearing outside Hogsmeade Village, far from Hogwarts!

"Get in there!" Silas growled. Not only did he refuse to let go, he lunged forward himself, crashing into the golden portal together with the tightly bound Professor Quirrell!

The portal swiftly closed behind them and vanished.

The Quidditch pitch fell into dead silence.

Everyone stared dumbfoundedly at the now-empty place in the teachers' stand and the vacant space before the Gryffindor stands, as though that shocking scene had never happened.

Then, in the next instant, a figure abruptly rose from the main stand!

It was Albus Dumbledore!

For the first time, the old headmaster—always as steady as a mountain, as if everything were under his control—showed clear anxiety and shock on his face! His blue eyes, always gleaming with wisdom, were filled with unprecedented concern!

He was panicking! He was truly panicking!

That anxiety came from two sources, like ice and fire intertwining, instantly stripping him of his usual composure.

On one hand, he was directly concerned for the safety of Silas Cyril, his student! He knew all too well what was attached to the back of Quirrell's head—Voldemort, cruel, powerful, and utterly inhuman! Although Silas was exceptionally gifted and wielded many strange forms of magic even Dumbledore could not understand, he was still only a first-year child! Letting him face Voldemort alone, even a weakened Voldemort, was no different from sending a lamb into a tiger's jaws! Dumbledore could almost foresee the horrifying sight of Silas's life being instantly taken by the Killing Curse! This child was someone he had observed for a long time and placed certain special hopes upon. He could not be allowed to perish like this!

On the other hand, what truly set his heart ablaze was that his carefully arranged plan had been disrupted! He had originally intended to use this school year to let Harry, under relatively controllable risks, gradually face Voldemort, tempering his courage and will before completing his first true confrontation and growth amid the trials guarding the Philosopher's Stone. This was his plan for nurturing Harry Potter—The Boy Who Lived—and a crucial part of his long-term strategy against Voldemort!

But now, Silas, this completely unplanned "variable," had used such a crude and direct method to turn Harry and Voldemort's "first official confrontation" into an unexpected encounter between himself and Voldemort! This completely threw Dumbledore off pace! If Voldemort were somehow dealt with by Silas now, however unlikely that might be, or if Silas were killed by Voldemort, or if the plan concerning the Philosopher's Stone were exposed or failed because of this... the consequences would be unimaginable!

"Severus!" Dumbledore's voice had lost its usual gentleness, carrying an unquestionable command and urgency. "Take people and find them immediately! Ensure Mr. Kirill's safety! Quickly!"

Before he even had time to explain further, a Phoenix-shaped Patronus flew from the tip of his wand to notify the other professors. He also drew his wand, clearly preparing to move out himself.

The Quidditch match was forced to stop, and the entire stadium descended into chaos and speculation. Meanwhile, Silas Cyril, the instigator of it all, had already taken the possessed Quirrell beyond everyone's sight and stepped into an unknown realm filled with deadly danger.