Celebrating Victory

Long live Potter!

The young wizards in the stands stood up and cheered.

Just now, Harry, who had been detached from the battlefield, suddenly sprinted to the ground, stopped a foot above the ground, grabbed the Golden Snitch tightly, and triumphantly raised his arm.

He caught the Golden Snitch and ended the match within five minutes of it starting.

"It'll be history! I've never heard of Quidditch Match that fast!" Seamus shouted. "Harry should be honored with a monument!"

"We won! Harry won! We won!" Hermione screamed, jumping excitedly on her chair.

She wasn't a big fan of Quidditch, but she watched this match with exceptional focus. Besides the infectious atmosphere, she was also captivated by Gryffindor's first-ever House Cup victory in seven years.

The girl turned around and hugged Loren tightly, only letting go after a while. Her face was flushed, whether from shyness or excitement, it was hard to tell.

"By the way, did you two have a fight with Malfoy just now?" Hermione asked.

"Arguing? We beat Crabbe to a pulp!" Ron said proudly.

Neville just grinned foolishly.

"Let's go, we're going to throw Harry onto the Quidditch hoop!" Seamus and Dean excitedly pulled them along as they ran towards the pitch.

In the middle of the field, Dumbledore said a few words of encouragement to Harry before giving his place to the young wizards who were rushing up.

He leaned against the stands, watching the young wizards celebrate with a smile. "To be honest, seeing them always makes me feel younger. What do you think, Severus?" He turned his gaze to Professor Snape beside him.

"I just find it noisy," Snape said angrily.

The Slytherin House Cup cannot be lost; he will severely deduct Gryffindor points from his classes in the following lessons.

And Quirrell, give him a warning.

There were so many people that even the young wizards from several Gryffindor years were crowding around Harry.

Seeing that things were not going well, Loren protected Hermione and retreated from the crowd.

Ron and Seamus grabbed Neville's clothes and pushed him forward, squeezing through the crowd to get to Harry's side.

Looking at the crowd from afar, Hermione smiled and curled the corners of her mouth, looking charming and adorable.

"Don't you not really like Quidditch?" Loren asked.

"The House Cup! Professor McGonagall will be so happy that we won the competition and also took home the House Cup!"

The stadium turned into a sea of joy, and Harry was tossed higher and higher into the air.

Although the Hufflepuff wizards felt a little disappointed to lose the match, they were happy that this five-minute game would be recorded in school history.

An hour later.

Harry left the dressing room alone, intending to return his Nimbus 2000 to the broom shed.

Walking on the damp grass, the moisture mixed with the scent of earth became sweet, and the gloomy clouds appeared as beautiful shapes in his eyes.

He finally accomplished something to be proud of, and no one will ever say he's just someone with a famous name again.

Recalling the joyous scene just now, the Gryffindor tossed him into the air, and from afar they saw Ron and his friends jumping up and down to greet him...

Harry spotted a hooded, cloaked figure in the distance—it was Snape. He clearly didn't want to be seen and hurried toward the Forbidden Forest.

While others were having dinner, they sneaked into the Forbidden Forest?

Remembering what Hagrid had said before, that others had entered the Forbidden Forest and even awakened the hibernating Acromantula.

"It's Snape! He's going to do something bad!"

Harry jumped back onto his flying broomstick, took off, and silently followed behind Snape.

Entering the Forbidden Forest, he flew close to the treetops, and behind a towering beech tree, he heard voices.

Landing on a branch, Harry carefully climbed forward, holding his flying broomstick, and looked down through the leaves.

"... No, I don't know why you... why you chose to meet here, Severus..."

It was Professor Quirrell's voice, and he was stuttering even more than usual.

"I think I should give you a warning," Snape said coldly. "You'd better behave yourself, and also, about the Sorcerer's Stone ..."

Harry couldn't hear clearly from behind, so he held his breath and leaned forward a little. Quirrell was muttering something when Snape interrupted him again.

"Times have changed. You'd better know who you're loyal to. You don't want to be my enemy, do you, Quirrell?" Snape said, taking a step closer to Quirrell.

"I... I don't know, I know you—"

"You know exactly what I mean."

Snape pulled his cloak over his head and strode away.

Once out of the Forbidden Forest, Harry flew slowly on his broomstick, carefully recalling every word he had just heard Quirrell Harry Snape him retrieve the Sorcerer's Stone.

As Harry passed the Quidditch Pitch stands, he glanced down casually.

There's someone lying down there! Someone lying down there!?

He quickly grabbed the broom handle and placed it on the stands.

"It's Malfoy's henchman." Harry was puzzled; judging from his expression, he had been knocked down by Binding Charm.

Despite hating Slytherin and Malfoy, Harry still broke Crabbe's Binding Charm.

"This is outrageous!" Crabbe roared angrily and ran towards the Castle.

"Not even saying thank you, how rude," Harry muttered.

He put the flying broom back in the broom shed; he needed to discuss the Sorcerer's Stone with Ron and Hermione.

Gryffindor Common Room.

Harry found the layout of the common room a bit strange; the candles and torches were all upstairs, making the room dimly lit, and there was a two- or three-meter-tall cardboard box in the center.

The Twins and older students were huddled together, discussing something.

"Harry, where have you been?" Hermione was the first to notice Harry's return, and this greeting drew the attention of those around them.

"We won! You won! We won!"

Ron slapped Harry hard on the back and shouted, "We beat up Malfoy's henchmen! Everyone's waiting for you, we're having a celebration, George and Fred brought out a seven-tiered cake from the Kitchen!"

"Cough cough cough." Harry grabbed Ron's hand and slapped it away.

Well, so you guys were the ones who beat Crabbe. I can tell Ron really went all out today; just a few blows like that almost ripped his internal organs out.

"Never mind those things for now—"

Harry was about to talk about what happened in the Forbidden Forest when the Twins suddenly appeared from behind and lifted him up, startling him so much that his voice rose sharply.

"Our gold medal Seeker is back!"

Guess who's going to be thrown into the cake?

Harry turned pale with fright at George and Fred's words. "No, no! No!"

"Throw it in!"

"Throw it in!"

Seamus and Ron led the cheers, and the celebratory atmosphere reached a fever pitch that no one could stop. They tore open the large cardboard box, revealing a huge cake piled high with cream.

Bang!

White cream splattered from the cake, landing on the sofa and on the faces of the little wizards around them.

"Homage to Harry!"

George and Fred grabbed a big wad of cream and threw it, shouting "Homage to Harry!" but the cream ended up smearing Percy's face.

"You two!" Before Percy could finish his reprimand, a dollop of cream was stuffed into his mouth.

The cream fight started instantly, with cream flying all over the lounge.

The candles were placed high up to prevent cream from accidentally getting on them; they had planned this in advance.

"Salute to Wood!" Angelina exclaimed, casually smearing a dollop of cream on Wood's head—something she had wanted to do for a long time.

"Salute to Wood!"

The Quidditch players banded together and buried Wood and Harry together.

Wood was smiling, even though his eyes were covered in cream and he couldn't open them.

Harry kept dodging the cake flying at his face, a smile on his face, and quickly put the Forbidden Forest out of his mind.

"Barbaric, so barbaric," Hermione muttered, hiding behind Loren.

But the little Witch's eyes gleamed with cunning, and she was eagerly preparing to grab a large piece of cream cake to smear on Loren's face from behind.

In the dormitory, Loren and his five friends lay on their beds, wearing satisfied smiles.

Neville accidentally burped, and it all tasted like sweet, creamy butter.

Loren rolled over, facing Ron. "Is the word 'Mudblood ' really that dirty? Hermione and I didn't even notice, and you guys just rushed out."

Hearing this, Ron's smile faded. "Very filthy. There are few words in the wizarding world more filthy than Mudblood. Even if Professor McGonagall were here, she would support us beating him up."

"Yes!" Neville nodded vigorously.

"You guys fought without calling me..." Seamus muttered to himself, deeply regretting missing the chance to beat up Slytherin.

"If I had known, I wouldn't have lifted the curse on Crabbe. I would have had the Prefect take attendance tonight and then go looking for him." Harry felt that today was a perfect day. He won the Quidditch Match, Ron and the others beat up Malfoy's henchmen, and he even caught Snape tonight.

Harry planned to discuss it with Ron and Hermione before deciding whether to bring it up with Loren.

As his roommates spoke up one after another, Loren felt a surge of warmth in his heart. "Why didn't you tell the professor that chess players should consider a few moves ahead?"

"Can we beat him up if we tell the professor?" Ron said.

Telling the professor that the most he can do is deduct points from Slytherin's grades and put them in solitary confinement is not as satisfying as directly beating him up.

"If you ask me, Neville is the really brave one. He was the one who held Crabbe back, and I took the opportunity to hit him," Ron exclaimed.

Crabbe was stronger than Neville and both Rons combined, but Neville disregarded his own strength and held Crabbe tightly, giving Ron an opportunity to punch him in the face a few times.

When Neville heard the praise, he couldn't help but smile. "At the time, I just wanted to beat him up, I didn't care about anything else."

"Neville truly lives up to his Gryffindor..."

Loren didn't go into the Fantasy Book tonight; he chatted with his roommates until late and fell asleep sometime later.

The next morning, Harry found an opportunity to pull Ron and Hermione aside to an empty classroom and tell them what he had seen and heard in the Forbidden Forest.

"Snape must be trying to force Quirrell to help him get the Sorcerer's Stone," Harry finally concluded.

"You mean the Sorcerer's Stone is only safe if Professor Quirrell can stop Snape?" Hermione asked.

"Possibly."

"If you ask me, Quirrell seems like a coward; he won't last long."

The three ultimately decided to keep a close eye on Snape and Quirrell's movements to determine whether the Sorcerer's Stone was safe.

Snape became even more gloomy and irritable, pacing around the school all day, and staring at Quirrell with a terrifying look from time to time. To Harry and the others, this meant that he had not yet succeeded and that the Sorcerer's Stone was still safe.

It was another Wednesday night. After observing the stars for the day, they went back to the lounge together.

"The weather is so gloomy, I can't see any stars at all, how am I supposed to write this report?" Ron complained, rubbing his neck incessantly.

Apart from Loren, all the other young wizards were doing the same thing, their necks were extremely stiff.

The weather in England is very unpredictable, often rainy, especially towards the end of winter. They strained their necks in front of the stargazing telescope for a long time before they could barely make out some faint glimmers of light.

"Find a day when you can see the stars and record the constellations. Write about one of the Nine Planets each time, and occasionally the moon. Other meteors and comets can be written about in one stargazing session, which is enough for most of the semester."

Loren walked lazily behind, and after observing the condition of Mars from the tower, he confirmed that he still couldn't tell whether it was bright or not, so he didn't continue to torment his neck.

Harry and Ron's eyes lit up when they heard the idea, and they exclaimed excitedly, "Great idea!"

"No!" Hermione objected to the idea. "That's lying. A report should state the actual celestial observations."

"The professor won't look closely anyway," Ron muttered.

Loren and Harry nodded; they shared the same idea.

Hermione was exasperated. "It just won't work."

"Okay." The three of them replied to Hermione, as they were all used to Hermione seriousness and knew how to deal with her.

"You guys!" Hermione could tell from their perfunctory tone that they were just going through the motions. She turned to stare at Loren. "I'm going to check your future stargazing reports."

"Let them check then, you can't verify it anyway," Loren muttered under his breath.

Astrology is a tricky thing; I write that Venus is becoming brighter and the rings on Saturn are getting darker, but who knows if it's true or not?

Also, why are you only investigating me?

As they passed the Third Floor Corridor, Hermione, Harry, and Ron slowed their pace. While Loren wasn't looking, they pressed their ears against the door of the room where Fluffy was, trying to hear Fluffy was still inside.

They did this every time they passed by after the Quidditch Match. Loren had noticed it long ago, but he played along and pretended not to see it.

After passing the Fourth Floor, their steps became lighter.

In the middle of the corridor, they encountered Professor Quirrell, who was walking in the opposite direction.

He was dressed in a black robe, with a purple scarf wrapped bulkily around his head. His face was pale, and he was even thinner than before, but his eyes shone with a spirit.

Remembering Quirrell's scent, Loren instinctively held his breath and stepped aside to let Quirrell pass first.

Hermione and her two friends showed Quirrell friendly smiles, encouraging them. Quirrell had persisted until now without giving in to Snape, and they felt that the professor wasn't so bad after all.

Once Quirrell was out of sight, Loren gasped for breath. "Thank goodness it's winter. I can't imagine how we'll conduct Defense Against the Dark Arts when the weather gets warmer."

Winter's dry, cold weather lessened Quirrell's scent, but as temperatures gradually rise, a few young wizards might actually be drawn into the Hospital Wing by the wicked smell of garlic.

"Mind your manners, Loren. Professor Quirrell is better than we thought," Harry advised.

"Then why don't you Defense Against the Dark Arts sit in the front?" Loren raised an eyebrow, thinking, "What a hypocrite (Harry is a Voldemort)."

The three remained silent. This question was irrefutable; compared to defending Quirrell, their own noses were more important.