To Bernard's disappointment, nothing strange entered Hogwarts again all the way through November, even after the Black Lake had frozen solid enough for skating.
"Eugene, Bernard's one thing, but why are you so disappointed too?"
The rare occasion had brought all five of them together for lunch in the Great Hall. Klon stared at Eugene beside him in disbelief. After Bernard had complained, Eugene had actually added, "What a pity!"
"The troll must have been brought into Hogwarts by someone. That person must have had some purpose. Since they haven't caused any other trouble for so long, either they've already achieved their goal, or they're still plotting in secret."
Uther cut off a piece of roasted sausage and put it into his mouth.
Eugene nodded in agreement.
"Um..."
Klon scratched his head. He knew his roommates' analysis made sense, but...
"Couldn't Professor Dumbledore have already dealt with them? After all, he's the greatest wizard of this century!"
"...That's true. If Professor Dumbledore had solved the problem, he probably wouldn't tell us."
Uther nodded.
"What do you think, Adam?"
However, Eugene looked toward Adam.
"Me?"
Adam raised an eyebrow. If Eugene agreed with Uther, he would not have asked Adam. Had he noticed something?
"I think this isn't over yet... Of course, that's just a guess."
"I think so too... It's just a strange feeling."
Eugene had become a little more talkative after getting to know them, but he rarely took the initiative to express his feelings like this. For a moment, the others fell silent.
"...Anyway, no matter what happens, Professor Dumbledore will solve everything, right? Let's think about something worth being happy about instead, like the Quidditch match starting tomorrow!"
Klon broke the silence.
"Everyone's heard, right? Gryffindor's Seeker this year is actually a first-year, and he's the Chosen One, Harry Potter!"
"Gryffindor versus Slytherin... Honestly, I don't think this match is all that exciting."
Uther smoothly changed the subject.
"Hannah and the others said Slytherin has always liked pulling little tricks during matches. They'll do anything to win. No matter how good Harry Potter is, he might not win—unless he catches the Golden Snitch as soon as the match begins."
Despite saying that, the next day, they all honestly gathered in the stands at the Quidditch pitch.
"This is my first time watching Quidditch from this angle!"
The area around them was rather noisy, so Bernard had to raise his voice.
"Actually, it's ours too."
Klon leaned over the railing, looking extremely excited.
"Look, they're coming out!"
Adam looked down. They were too far away; from the stands, he could only see the green and red teams below, not which players were which.
But the shortest one in red was probably Harry.
They had met once when school began, but had not had much contact afterward. Gryffindor and Hufflepuff only shared Astronomy and History of Magic, and Adam himself had kept a certain distance from them.
With a shrill whistle from Madam Hooch's silver whistle, both teams soared into the air almost at the same time.
"Whoa!"
A chorus of exclamations rose neatly from the stands, mostly from first-years seeing an official Quidditch match in person for the first time.
The Quaffle was fiercely contested back and forth between the Chasers on both teams. The Keepers watched their three hoops vigilantly, preventing the other side from breaking through. The Beaters protected their teammates from the Bludgers, while the Seekers...
The two Seekers were circling at the edges of the pitch, since there was still no sign of the Golden Snitch.
"Despicable!"
Klon slammed a hand against the railing in agitation—though he was hardly the only one—because a Slytherin Beater had sent a Bludger at one of Gryffindor's Chasers, nearly knocking him off his broomstick.
"Doesn't that count as a foul?"
Bernard's eyes widened. Such behavior was simply unimaginable in the Muggle world.
"Of course it doesn't. It's within the rules. After all, no one can guarantee that a ball they hit won't somehow crash into something."
"All right, that does make some sense..."
However, the situation on the field soon changed. That earlier strike seemed to be a signal, as the Slytherin Quidditch team swiftly displayed its flexible sense of morality and began repeatedly dancing along the edge of fouls.
Madam Hooch's silver whistle blew again and again, only making the Slytherin team conceal their fouls more carefully and making them harder to call. It did nothing to awaken their sportsmanship.
Even Adam could not help complaining.
"They should replace their snake banner with the flag of that thieving country. They have no shame at all!"
"That's just how Quidditch rules are. There are too many ambiguous areas for people with bad intentions to exploit."
Adam and the others were standing by the railing, and as the match progressed, more and more students squeezed over. The one who had just spoken was Cedric.
He looked at the chaotic scene on the field and sighed.
"That's why Hufflepuff always finds it hard to win... We always put the fun of Quidditch first, but it seems we're the only ones who think that way."
If the Hufflepuff team were truly that utilitarian, someone of Cedric's skill would not still be out of the Hufflepuff team.
The Hufflepuff team would never kick out any player just to win.
The Ravenclaw team was rather unusual. They wanted to win, but would not let training interfere with their personal lives, so the gap between the team's strongest and weakest players was enormous. They competed with Hufflepuff for third and fourth place year after year.
As for the Slytherin team, whose playing style closely resembled that thieving country's...
"Look at the field!"
Klon's cry made everyone turn. Harry was struggling to control his out-of-control broomstick—it had suddenly begun shaking up and down in midair, rolling and flipping wildly.
"What's going on? Did Harry Potter's broom get damaged in a collision?"
Klon stroked his chin as he analyzed the situation.
"I heard the school's broomsticks are all pretty old models..."
"The old ones are the brooms used in flying lessons. The ones used for matches are reliable, quality-assured equipment. Usually, only a jinx can interfere with how they operate."
Cedric's expression was extremely grave.
"But a jinx? How would Slytherin dare—"
Just last year, the most outrageous thing Slytherin had done was ram people directly. In a few more years, were they going to start hurling spells at each other in the sky?
"I remember, a jinx has to be cast while staring at the target, right? Let's find whoever's doing it!"
Klon waved his fist.
However, after searching around, the group could not find anyone casting a spell. Every Slytherin player on the field failed to meet the conditions.
"Looks like the worst-case scenario has happened—the person casting the spell is in the stands!"
But how could they find that person among all the people in the stands?
Or rather, if the Hufflepuff team encountered something like this, how would they respond?
"Perhaps it's an even worse situation—"
Eugene suddenly spoke. Narrowing his eyes, he stared at Harry, who was still jolting violently as he climbed higher and higher.
"Maybe the person casting the spell isn't helping Slytherin... Maybe they simply want to hurt someone."
Uther froze, remembering what Eugene had said yesterday.
"You mean... the person who brought the troll into Hogwarts?"
Eugene nodded.
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