Quidditch

"You don't understand. You can't indulge a stubborn old bastard like Snape. Even if I can't beat him, I'll still land a few punches before he takes me down."

The three of them...

"And that old bat got bitten by that three-headed dog. When I got there, I happened to see Filch bandaging him up."

Hermione asked, "What happened? Why would it be that three-headed dog?"

"It had to be that big dog that bit him. Fang, the dog Hagrid raises, doesn't have a mouth that big."

Harry lowered his voice. "That means he wanted to get past that three-headed dog on Halloween. Maybe he released the troll to distract everyone."

Hermione stared wide-eyed. "No way. He wouldn't try to steal something Dumbledore was guarding so closely, would he?"

Ron curled his lip. "Give me a break. Snape isn't some saint. Harry, Oren, and I saw him go to the fourth floor that day."

Oren remembered very clearly that Snape was one of the good guys, so he decided to explain things for the poor old professor.

"Professor Snape may be a little gloomy, a little unreasonable, fond of picking on Harry, and somewhat mysterious in his movements... Forget I said anything."

The three of them...

"I won't interrupt your young detective club's discussion. I'm going to rest."

Harry watched Oren's retreating back and muttered, "Is this what it feels like to relax when you don't have homework?"

Ron and Harry exchanged a glance, each seeing the envy in the other's eyes.

Bang! Bang! Bang! Hermione slapped the table. "It's almost nine. Hurry up and do your homework! Harry has a match tomorrow!"

The two of them...

"O-ho, o-ho, o-hohohoho~"

Oren sat up in bed, his CPU spinning at high speed. What the hell was that noise? Had he transmigrated again? Into Tom and Jerry? Had Jerry just smacked Tom again?

Never mind, Ron had kicked a Prussian helmet. Back to sleep.

"Wake up, Oren. If we leave any later, all we'll have for breakfast will be dessert," Neville said, shaking the half-asleep Oren.

Great Hall, Gryffindor table.

Oren asked, "Harry, what's wrong with you today? Decided to fast?"

Hermione said, "You have to eat something. Have a piece of toast."

Harry shook his head. "I'm not hungry."

Hermione's motherly coaxing failed.

"Harry, are you nervous about the Quidditch match later?" Oren asked, patting Harry on the shoulder.

"You don't need to be. This time, our Gryffindor team has Nimbus 2000s in their faces. We can't possibly lose. And we've got two Nimbus 2000s. In short, the advantage is ours."

Harry looked a little better. Pressing his advantage, Oren grabbed a cup and handed it to Harry. "Drink this. You'll feel better."

Harry drained the drink in one gulp. His face immediately flushed, and he seemed much braver as he began wolfing down the food in front of him.

Hermione tugged Oren's sleeve and lowered her voice. "You didn't give Harry some kind of potion, did you? That would be cheating."

"What potion? It's just Firewhisky mixed with plain water. Not enough to get him drunk."

The young witch rolled her eyes at Oren.

At eleven, the Quidditch pitch was packed with noise. The entrance was as crowded as a subway station in a major city. Oren was squeezed until stars danced before his eyes, and when he finally sat down, he realized the other young wizards had swept him into the Ravenclaw stands.

"Well, Oren? Have you decided to join Ravenclaw?"

Cho Chang patted Oren's head, her gaze at his hairstyle looking distinctly suspicious.

"What's with that look? Broad daylight, clear skies—you're not touching my hair."

Cho snickered. "Are you still buying upperclassmen's study notes?"

"No. I've gathered most of Ravenclaw's already, and Slytherin doesn't need the money, so they won't sell. As for Gryffindor and Hufflepuff, aside from a few older students' notes, the rest aren't worth mentioning."

"Oren, why are you buying so many notes on Transfiguration?"

"Nothing. I'm mainly interested in Jerusalem—no, I mean Transfiguration. I really want to improve in that field."

Cho said, "Look, the match is starting."

Madam Hooch called out, "I hope everyone will play fairly."

"Cho, what does Madam Hooch mean by that? Is someone going to cheat?"

"The Slytherin Quidditch team often pulls little tricks. It's pretty annoying."

"Oh~"

The whistle blew. Both teams took to the air, and the match officially began.

"Were matches in previous years this... intense?" Oren watched in confusion. This looked less like a ball game and more like a dogfight between two fighter squadrons.

"Of course not. It's because someone's views during the first flying lesson gave the team captains some new ideas."

Oren...

"This Slytherin team is shameless. They're deliberately ramming people? Fine, that's how they want to play?"

"Next match, I'll put Harry in a full suit of plate armor. Whoever rams him dies! Let's see if they still dare crash into him."

Cho...

"Oren, look! What's wrong with Potter's broom?"

"Does it have Parkinson's? Was it damaged in a collision? That shouldn't be possible. My Nimbus 2000 is pretty sturdy."

Cho cried out, "He looks like he's about to lose control of his broom!"

"I don't know whether he can hold on, but Harry's brains are probably getting thoroughly shaken up."

Oren pulled out his wand and turned the grass directly beneath Harry into a huge mattress.

Cho asked, "Will that work?"

"Probably. It should save him a few broken bones."

Cho...

Oren looked around and saw a brown little blob squeezing through the crowd toward the teachers' seats. Then it rammed Quirrell over and set Snape's robes on fire.

Oren patted Cho's shoulder in shock and pointed toward the teachers' seats.

"Holy shit, whose warrior is this? They're insanely fierce!"

"Isn't that Miss Granger? She seems very interested in where someone went on Mid-Autumn Festival."

"Ahem, I had a small drink at the Astronomy Tower that day."

"One drink?" Cho looked at Oren doubtfully.

"One bottle."

"One bottle?"

"Fine, a whole pile." Oren glanced at Harry, whose broom had returned to normal, then pulled a bottle of Firewhisky from his pocket and stuffed it into Cho's hands. "Eighty-two-year-old whisky. Want a taste?"

Cho rolled her eyes and shoved the bottle into her best friend's hands.

"Don't try to change the subject. I think she's very interested in you."

Oren gave Cho, who was wearing an auntie grin, a speechless look. "You can eat whatever you want, but don't talk nonsense. We're purely academic rivals."

"Heh, academic rivals? The Weasley twins outsourced your homework to our Ravenclaws ages ago. One Galleon for an entire semester's worth of homework."

Oren was stunned. Those two were seriously black-hearted. He had given them nearly a hundred Galleons in total, and they outsourced it for one Galleon? They could at least pay a little more, right? Disgusting! Apparently, he hadn't squeezed them hard enough if they still had the energy to exploit others.

"Look, Harry seems to have spotted the Golden Snitch!"

Harry dove sharply toward the Snitch, then... swallowed it in one gulp.

Cho asked in confusion, "Oren, what are you looking for?"

"Harry swallowed the Golden Snitch. I'm checking whether I have any extra-strength laxatives."

Cho...

"No need to look. Mr. Potter threw it up."

Harry held the Snitch over his head and shouted, "I caught the Golden Snitch!"

"Fine," Oren said with little interest. "What a pity. I wanted to see what the extra-strength laxative would do."

Cho rolled her eyes. "Having a roommate like you is his bad luck."

Oren and Cho chatted as they walked through the crowd toward the entrance of the pitch.

"See you, Oren."

"See you, Cho Chang."

After they said their goodbyes, Harry rushed impatiently up to Oren. "Wasn't that the senior we saw in the Great Hall last time? Are you close with that Ravenclaw senior?"

"Like the people of Hiroshima in 1945. Very close."

Harry didn't understand, but he understood that Oren and that senior were indeed close.

Oren examined Harry carefully. "Does your stomach hurt? Didn't you throw up the Golden Snitch?"

"It's fine. That senior..."

"Stop, Harry. Take some advice from your big brother—you're still too young. You can't handle it."

"Hmph!" The little witch puffed up her cheeks and took the lead toward Hagrid's Hut.

Oren asked in confusion, "Did you make her angry again?"

Ron shrugged. "I suspect you made her angry, but I have no proof."

The three of them looked at one another. "How strange." ×3

The group arrived at Hagrid's Hut. Oren took a huge sip of strong tea and asked, "How are those orange trees doing, Hagrid?"

"Professor Sprout helped out. They'll bear fruit next year."

"All right. Orange juice will definitely be better than pumpkin juice." Oren took another bite of watermelon.

Hermione said, "Ahem, let's get to the point."

Ron said, "It had to be Snape. Hermione and I both saw him staring fixedly at Harry's broom."

"Impossible. Why would Snape do something like that?" Hagrid didn't believe Snape would harm a student.

"It must be Oren," Hermione analyzed calmly. "He discovered the secret that Snape had been bitten by the three-headed dog, and we're often together. Snape must think we all know his secret, so perhaps..."

"Perhaps Snape will come after all of us one by one," Ron finished, his face pale.

Oren, who had just been dragged into this, was utterly baffled.

"How do you know about Fluffy?" Hagrid looked at them in confusion. "I bought him from a Greek fellow and lent him to Dumbledore to guard..."

"Guard what?" Harry asked urgently.

"Don't ask, Harry. That's top secret."

"But Snape wants to steal it."

"Listen, Harry. Snape wouldn't kill any student. Stop meddling in things that have nothing to do with you. Forget about it. That's between Dumbledore and Nicolas Flamel..."

Harry slapped his thigh. "Ha!"

Oren spoke gloomily, "You can ask Hagrid to keep anything for you—except a secret."

Though he wasn't loud, everyone heard him.

Furious, Hagrid started slapping his own mouth.

"Hey, hey, hey, Hagrid, don't do that. Really, don't." Oren hurriedly grabbed Hagrid, and of course, he was the only one who could hold him back.