Lifetime Ban

October ended in a raging storm, and November arrived, bitterly cold, with a layer of frost every morning and icy winds cutting into hands and cheeks. The sky and the ceiling of the Great Hall turned a pale blue-gray, the mountains surrounding Hogwarts were capped with snow, and the temperature inside the castle had dropped so much that many students wore thick Dragonhide Gloves during breaks in the corridors.

On Saturday, November 2nd, dark clouds rolled over the Hogwarts Quidditch Pitch. A cold wind, carrying a light drizzle, dampened the players' robes, and the air was thick with tension and excitement. The first Quidditch Match, Gryffindor versus Slytherin, officially began.

At the start of the match, both teams quickly engaged in offense and defense, but Gryffindor soon found themselves in trouble. Ron was performing worse than ever, so nervous that he could barely hold his cue, missing several interception opportunities and allowing Slytherin's Chaser to score easily. In the stands, the Slytherin students erupted in mocking laughter, while the Gryffindor supporters looked grim, and Hermione's fingers were tightly gripping her scarf.

The score continued to widen, with Slytherin's Bludger Cassius Warrington frequently throwing the Bludger accurately at the Gryffindor players, forcing them to constantly lose focus. Harry Potter stared intently at the sky, trying to find the Golden Snitch, while Draco Malfoy hovered nearby with a nonchalant smile, seemingly in no hurry at all.

As the game entered its second half, Harry finally caught a glimpse of golden light out of the corner of his eye— the Golden Snitch was hurtling across the edge of the court! Without hesitation, he swooped down, the wind whistling past his ears, but just as he was about to reach out and grab the Golden Snitch, a tremendous force slammed into his side—

"Bang!"

He was violently knocked away, tumbling several times, his fingers almost touching the Golden Snitch's tail fin, but he was just a step too close. The next second, a fair hand steadily caught the golden ball— Draco Malfoy, perched on his broomstick, a smug smile on his lips, held the Golden Snitch high, welcoming the deafening cheers from the Slytherin stands.

With Madam Hooch's whistle, the match ended, and Slytherin won a resounding victory by a large margin.

The Gryffindor players left the field in silence, heads bowed, while the Slytherin strutting around, celebrating their victory. Draco, surrounded by Pansy, wore a mocking smile and deliberately said loudly as Harry passed by, "Poor thing, the Savior got knocked away? Should we find you a stroller so you can ride in it next match?"

Pansy laughed exaggeratedly, "Maybe he should go to the ball instead of Quidditch Match —after all, he's much better at picking up girls than protecting the Golden Snitch."

The Slytherin students around him burst into laughter, but Harry's fingers clenched tighter and tighter. His chest heaved violently, and a defiant anger burned within him like a flame.

He lost to Draco for the first time.

On what grounds?

He is clearly the Savior; the peace the Wizarding World enjoys today is all thanks to the sacrifices of his parents.

In first grade, it was thanks to him that Voldemort's plot to resurrect and return was stopped.

He is the true protagonist of this world. He mastered flight without any instruction on his first attempt, his skill in finding the Golden Snitch is unparalleled in all of Hogwarts, and he was also the first person in Hogwarts to possess Firebolt.

Losing to Skylar in the Triwizard Tournament was one thing, but losing to Draco in Quidditch Match was something he absolutely couldn't swallow!

"They're laughing at you, Harry."

Harry jolted, a deep voice echoing in his mind, carrying a familiar yet chilling aura. His reason told him that the voice didn't belong to him, but it coiled around his thoughts like a venomous snake, taking root and growing in the cracks of his anger.

They don't respect you at all.

"You're Harry Potter, the one who defeated the Dark Lord! Are you going to act like a coward and be publicly humiliated?"

Harry clenched his teeth, his reason telling him to turn and leave, but his feet seemed to be fixed in place by invisible chains. His hand had unconsciously reached for his wand; he didn't even realize when he had made that move.

"Malfoy is no match for you. You were just careless because you were worried about Ron."

They have no right to laugh at you.

"In the world of Quidditch, you are the strongest!"

Harry's eyes narrowed slightly, his gaze fixed on Draco's smug face. Anger clouded his thinking; without even considering the consequences, his hand had already raised his wand—

"Black Bats Emerge!"

He swung his wand wildly, and in the blink of an eye, Harry's spell struck Draco. His entire face was covered by a winged monster, and he let out a terrible scream, trying to tear the monster off his face.

The Bat-Bogey Hex, Ginny's modified version, is very powerful.

Upon seeing this, Terence Higgs Family immediately drew his wand and used "Finite Incantatem" to break the spell on Draco. However, Draco remained curled up on the ground, groaning and moaning, with blood on his nose and face.

The next second, a sharp shout rang out throughout the stadium, "Potter! Stop!"

Madam Hooch approached quickly from a distance, holding a whistle in one hand and a wand in the other. Her Broomstick lay a few feet away, and her face was ashen.

"You actually attacked your opponent maliciously after the match?! Go see Professor McGonagall immediately!"

Madam Hooch was furious and almost immediately issued the punishment. Harry's face turned pale and then red, a mixture of anger, regret, and resentment, but in the end, he silently put away his wand and turned to walk towards the castle.

Behind him, Draco's sneer was barely concealed, while Pansy watched his retreating figure with a gloating look.

Harry stood in Professor McGonagall's office, his stomach feeling as heavy as lead. His ears were still ringing; the emotional storm that had just erupted on the Quidditch Pitch hadn't subsided, and his hands were still trembling slightly.

Professor McGonagall stood behind her desk, her expression stern and cold, her gaze sweeping between Harry and his wand. She took a deep breath, about to reprimand him, when the office door was suddenly pushed open with a dull thud.

Umbridge strode in with her usual small, quick steps, a smug look on her face, a piece of parchment clutched tightly in her hand. Her pink coat gleamed in the fireplace light, and a cloying, repulsive smile played on her lips.

"Minerva, excuse me for interrupting," Umbridge's voice was high-pitched and insincere, "But I think you haven't had a chance to see this latest Educational Decree yet."

She waved the parchment in her hand as if displaying some supreme authority, then cleared her throat and read in a deliberately slow tone, "Educational Decree Number Twenty-Five — The High Inquisitor hereafter has supreme authority over all punishments, sanctions, and deprivations of rights involving Hogwarts students, and has the right to modify such punishments, sanctions, and deprivations of rights imposed by other faculty members."

She raised her chin, a morbid excitement gleaming in her eyes, her gaze fixed on Professor McGonagall's face, awaiting her angry reaction. However, McGonagall simply stared at her with a cold, almost dangerous expression, her lips tightly pressed together, her gaze behind her glasses sharp as a knife.

"Therefore—" Umbridge sighed dramatically, turning to Harry with a wider smile, "I'm sorry, Potter, your Quidditch career is over."

Harry jerked his head up, staring at her in shock. "What?"

A malicious pleasure flickered in Umbridge's eyes as she slowly said, "By my highest authority, you are banned for life. Your Broomstick will be confiscated, and you will be immediately locked in the dungeon."

Harry's breathing quickened, he could feel his blood rushing backward, and an unbelievable rage surged within him. His Quidditch career... was over? Because of an impulsive spell? Because of Malfoy's provocation? He hadn't even had a chance to explain, to defend himself!

"You can't do this!" he roared, his fists clenched tightly. "This is Professor McGonagall's office; she's the one who makes the decisions—"

"Oh no, no, no, Potter," Umbridge gave a mocking laugh, her eyes full of sarcasm, "I'll decide."

She paused deliberately, then turned to Professor McGonagall, a saccharine smile playing on her lips, "Of course, Minerva, if you wish to appeal to the Minister for Magic... you are welcome to try."

Professor McGonagall's face was icy cold. She stood ramrod straight, her eyes blazing with fury that seemed to ignite Umbridge. An unspoken tension hung in the air, the flickering firelight from the fireplace reflecting a chilling light through her spectacles.

But Umbridge remained unmoved; she knew she had won. She waved the parchment in her hand, her smile deepening, then turned and left the office with light steps, as if she had just enjoyed a sumptuous meal.

The door slammed shut, and the room fell into a deathly silence.

Professor McGonagall took a deep breath, her face still ashen, but she simply removed her glasses, rubbed the bridge of her nose, and said in a very low voice, "You can go back now, Potter."

Harry stood rooted to the spot, anger surging in his chest. He was unwilling to accept being deprived of the right to fly, of the sport he loved most, and of the sky that belonged to him. But what could he do? The Ministry of Magic's orders were ironclad rules, and Umbridge now held absolute power.

He turned abruptly, pushed open the office door, and stormed out, seething with rage.