Chapter 154: Quidditch

At ten in the morning, the Quidditch pitch buzzed with excitement.

Felix Harp entered the bustling arena and ascended the nearest elevated platform for spectators. A thunderous cheer erupted from the crowd as a blurry figure in crimson robes sent a Bludger hurtling into the goalpost.

Commentator Lee Jordan exclaimed, "A splendid goal! Gryffindor scores a point back. Currently, Slytherin leads temporarily at sixty to thirty. Their top-notch broomsticks are proving invaluable."

"I must commend Wood; without him, Gryffindor's score would be far more disparate!"

Felix's gaze swept across the other platforms where spectators were seated. Soon, amid the emerald-patterned Slytherin section, he spotted a middle-aged man with platinum blond hair—Lucius Malfoy.

Beside him stood a timid domesticated house-elf.

Lucius's gaze remained fixed on his son, Draco Malfoy. At that moment, he was engaged in a contest of aerial prowess with Harry, showcasing superior speed. Draco executed a swift halt in mid-air and turned back, taunting, "Slow reflexes, Scarhead?"

Harry held his breath, verbally ignoring Draco. His eyes scanned incessantly, whether it was during the Easter break or the past week. Whenever there was a spare moment, Wood would have them training relentlessly.

"We stand at the pinnacle of history!" Wood had rallied the players before the match.

Harry agreed; this was the closest they had come to the championship. He ascended and descended, turned and spun, soared and plummeted, traced a zigzag pattern in the sky.

Draco followed closely behind him, too occupied to provoke Harry.

The intense chase continued for two or three minutes, leaving Harry somewhat dizzy by the end, prompting him to halt.

Soon, Slytherin scored another goal.

Harry's anxiety grew. Following Wood's pre-match strategies, the ideal scenario was to catch the Golden Snitch quickly, denying Slytherin the chance to widen their lead.

However, Slytherin's strategy was contrary. They aimed to prolong the match, exhausting their opponents over two or three hours. Then, relying on their broomstick advantage, they would seize control.

This was why Draco had been persistently harassing Harry.

On the elevated platform, Felix calmly observed the match. Enhanced by the effects of accelerated thinking and heightened senses, he remained acutely aware. He sensed every change brought by the breeze or the clouds.

What was once a blurred shadow became distinct; he could even discern the fleeting expressions on the players' faces.

Fourteen individuals on the field were part of his calculations. Felix attempted to predict their trajectories.

His eyes widened in an instant. "It's Dobby!"

Dobby, the Malfoy family's house-elf?! Harry stared at Dobby in disbelief. Dobby also noticed his gaze and met his eyes with his large tennis-ball-sized orbs. Dobby waved at Harry.

But Lucius had finished reprimanding his son and strode away. The house-elf followed, trailing behind, and just before disappearing from sight, he cast a pitiful look at Harry.

...

Evening, the Great Hall.

"What did you say? Dobby belongs to the Malfoys?" Ron looked at Harry, astonished, with a chicken leg suspended in mid-air.

"Hush! Keep it down," Harry looked around cautiously. Seeing no one was paying attention, he whispered to Ron and Hermione, "I saw it with my own eyes, just as we were leaving the pitch."

Hermione spoke cautiously, "Harry, what are you thinking? Is all of this a Malfoy scheme, or is it just Dobby's doing?"

Harry couldn't be certain. He could sense Dobby's respect for him, yet he couldn't ignore the tradition that bound house-elves to their masters.

After leaving the Great Hall, they walked in the garden, engaged in a heated discussion.

"I think we can trust Dobby, Harry," Hermione analyzed. "His warning referred to the Chamber, the one we've been discussing. If it's all part of the Malfoy scheme, they wouldn't need to add more complications."

Harry leaned towards that opinion, while Ron remained neutral. "Though what you say makes sense, I've never heard of a house-elf defying its master's orders."

During their evening magical writing class, Hermione posed a question, "Can a house-elf defy its master's orders?"

Professor Harp's response carried weight, "Generally, no. But a binding contract cannot control one's free will."

Due to final adjustments, the author needs to review the previous content, ensuring all details are aligned. This process takes time, so please understand the shortness of the chapter. The updates will soar again after this period...

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