The phoenix flew southeast, lingering every few steps.
Fawkes reluctantly flew away. Dumbledore was still smiling at the children nearby, like a gardener watching with satisfaction as the saplings he had planted grew strong.
The whoosh of broomsticks cutting through the air came from the distance.
It seemed Minerva was on her way.
Hmm? Minerva? Dumbledore looked at the troll lying on the ground and the young wizards sprawled around it. His smile froze.
Zhang Xiao felt he had recovered enough and hurriedly urged everyone to leave. The troll could wake up at any moment.
McGonagall wove through the Forbidden Forest on her broomstick like a graceful little bird.
Riding a broomstick through woods this dense undoubtedly demanded exceptional flying skill.
With the wind whipping past her ears, McGonagall saw the trees ahead, thick and thin alike, as players trying to block her path.
Loud cheers seemed to ring out around her once more. "Minerva! Go!"
And there was the commentator's impassioned voice:
"Minerva McGonagall has the Quaffle! Gryffindor is using the Hawkshead Attacking Formation!
Excellent, a reverse pass! Minerva McGonagall has made a reverse pass! The Quaffle is now in Julian Coverdale's hands.
Beautiful! Parkin's Pincer!
Slytherin has no answer! Compared with Gryffindor's brilliant tactical maneuvers, they're as clumsy as Crups chasing a ball!
The ball is back in Minerva McGonagall's hands. She's past one defender, two, three!
Now she's facing the Keeper!
Good heavens! What's this? A variation on the Transylvanian Tackle? The Keeper is terrified!
She's scored! An absolutely magnificent goal! Minerva McGonagall! She's scored a stunning goal worthy of a place in school history!
Gryffindor! Gryffindor!"
Thunderous cheers rose from the stands all around, and a nostalgic smile appeared on McGonagall's no-longer-young face.
She rounded the last stretch of woodland and entered a clearing. The