Growing Ambition

"Wow! Harry Potter fell, but a textbook tumble posture saved him from being knocked out.

Huh? Why is he covering his mouth—did the roll make him nauseous?

Ah! He's spitting out the Golden Snitch—he caught the Golden Snitch!

Nice! As expected of the Savior Boy—Harry Potter!

He lives up to his title as the savior, snagging the first Golden Snitch of the season!

And this is the first Golden Snitch he's ever caught in his Quidditch career.

Harry Potter—scoring 150 points for Gryffindor—match over!"

Lee Jordan screamed out.

"But Gryffindor team, with a player down, couldn't hold off Slytherin team's fierce assault.

During the time Harry chased the Golden Snitch, Slytherin scored five more goals!

The final score settled at 210:150, Gryffindor team unfortunately lost this match.

Hope Gryffindor team can adjust their state when they go back—too many problems showed up today, they can't pin all their hopes on a newcomer!

Let's congratulate Matthew Black on a brilliant season opener!

What makes fans happier than the win is that—after six months without training, he still showed extraordinary skill. We have every reason to believe Matthew Black will remain the strongest contender for this year's Annual Best Hitter."

Lee Jordan kept gushing about Matthew, even forgetting the courtesy of congratulating Slytherin. He actually enjoyed watching Matthew's games too—Matthew was the best hitter he'd seen since becoming a commentator. The biggest regret was that Matthew wasn't a Gryffindor hitter.

Harry's mood was complicated now—both excited about catching the Golden Snitch for the first time in a match and frustrated by the team's loss.

The other Gryffindor members sighed in relief—not getting shut out by Slytherin was the best outcome they could hope for.

After Harry caught the Golden Snitch, the Gryffindor stands, quiet as a library, finally erupted in cheers, but as the match ended, those cheers were instantly drowned out by the roar of the entire stadium.

"Black!

—Black!

—Black!"

The Slytherin common room was filled with a joyful atmosphere, where a small celebration party was underway.

Captain Marcus stood in the center of the room, dramatically recounting the afternoon match, every other sentence inevitably heaping praise on Matthew.

Matthew held a glass of juice, chatting idly with his roommates in a corner.

A slightly shy brown-haired girl walked over.

"Senior Matthew..."

Matthew showed a gentle smile. "Hello."

"Tonight..." She tucked her fine brown hair behind her ear, looking at Matthew with anticipation. "Is Senior Matthew free?"

Matthew said with some trouble, "Today's Quidditch was too exhilarating. I'm a bit tired now—I'll head back to rest once the celebration party ends."

The girl's face fell, but she still pulled out a letter, her cheeks faintly reddening. "Please accept this, Senior Matthew."

Matthew took the letter and put it in his pocket.

He said with a smile, "Thank you."

The girl ran off, blushing.

Even hiding in the corner, there were unusually many people coming over tonight—some to chat, some to hint they were free tonight, and some who just handed over a love letter and ran off. Out of politeness, Matthew didn't embarrass any of the girls, and his pocket was now stuffed with love letters.

"I've never received this many love letters," Geralt said enviously. "I want to join the Quidditch team next year too."

Jerry said bluntly, "Come on, even if you join Quidditch, you won't get this many love letters."

He glanced toward the center of the room. "Marcus didn't get a single love letter tonight."

Geralt swaggeringly flicked the bangs on his forehead, tousling them with his left hand, and said with a grin, "Then I'd still be a bit better than Marcus."

After the celebration party ended, Matthew didn't go straight back to his dorm to rest. Instead, he planned to head to the Room of Requirement to practice his meditation method and brew some potions he'd need tomorrow.

As he passed an abandoned classroom, he noticed something inside seemed to be giving off a faint glow.

Through the half-open door, he saw a huge mirror inside. The faint glow he'd just seen was the light from the streetlamp at the door reflecting off the mirror's surface.

The mirror was several meters tall, with a magnificent golden border frame. The base was claw-shaped, and at the top of the frame was carved a line of cryptic text. But if you read it backward, it meant: I show not your face but your heart's desire.

Matthew's expression turned strange. He realized he'd run into the Mirror of Erised. This path hadn't had it at noon today—had Dumbledore hauled the Mirror of Erised over overnight?

Unable to tell if Dumbledore was nearby, he decided to act with the curiosity a normal student should have.

Matthew put on a curious look, pushed open the half-closed door, and walked in.

Approaching the Mirror of Erised, its smooth surface shifted into another scene—Midnight London, a moonlit street plastered everywhere with portraits of a black-haired youth with natural curls. His smile was gentle yet carried a hint of majesty, the two blending seamlessly together.

The person in the portrait was Matthew himself!

Matthew couldn't hide his shock. When had he ever had thoughts like this?

After transmigrating to the Wizarding World and gaining more possibilities, was his mindset gradually changing too?

At this moment, a kind voice came from behind Matthew. "Matthew, you've found this?"

Matthew turned his head and saw Professor Dumbledore standing behind him, watching him. Even at such close range, Matthew's Magic Sense hadn't detected Dumbledore at all.

Matthew smiled and said, "Good evening, Professor Dumbledore."

Dumbledore blinked. "I haven't congratulated you yet on winning the first match. I watched the game—it was brilliant. Looks like this year's Annual Best Hitter will still be you."

Matthew replied modestly, "Thank you, but it was my teammates who played well. I just provided some help."

"Don't be too modest. You really played excellently." Dumbledore patted Matthew on the shoulder, then shifted the topic, staring at the Mirror of Erised. "Have you discovered the joy of the Mirror of Erised? I'm curious—what did you see?"

Matthew showed a look of curiosity. "Is this mirror called the Mirror of Erised? I saw myself on a peaceful street in the mirror."

He didn't choose to lie but used a little trick from journalism. The version of himself in the portrait was still himself, and that moonlit street was peaceful enough.