The next day was the weekend.
A rare break in the clouds brightened the Hogwarts sky, but Harry Potter’s mood remained shrouded in storm clouds.
Today was his very first official Quidditch match, and their opponents were Slytherin—a house that never missed an opportunity to antagonize them.
Over at the Gryffindor table, the atmosphere was thick with tension.
Harry poked aimlessly at the fried eggs on his plate with his fork, unable to swallow a single bite.
“Relax, Harry,” Ron comforted him awkwardly.
“You flew so amazingly during practice.
Even Wood said you’re the most talented Seeker he’s ever seen.” “That’s right, Harry.
You’ll do great,” Hermione agreed, pushing a thick book aside to look at him with earnest concern.
“I’ve read every single book on Quidditch flying techniques and foul rules.
If they try any dirty tricks, I’ll be the first to—” Before she could finish, a burst of loud laughter erupted from the Slytherin table.
Draco Malfoy was standing on a bench, gesturing wildly as he held court for his lackeys, his voice loud enough for the entire Great Hall to hear.
“Place your bets, place your bets!
I bet Potter won’t last a minute before falling off his broom!” “I bet a Bludger breaks his arm!
Five Gold Galleons on it!” “I bet he cries for his mommy!
Hahaha!” The mean-spirited taunts reached Harry’s ears with crystal clarity.
His face paled instantly, and the hand holding his fork trembled.
Right at that moment, an off-key tune accompanied by an utterly obnoxious strut echoed in from the Great Hall’s entrance.
“Today’s a fine day for us common folk, happy as can be!” Rayleigh Stark had arrived.
He held his head high, chin tilted so far up it almost poked the sky, radiating an overbearing aura that practically screamed, “I am king of the world!” Well, upgrading from a popgun to a cannon tended to give a guy that kind of confidence.
The golden equipment that had dropped from Andariel the previous night had completely transformed him.
[Raven Loop · Ring] [+10% Faster Cast Rate] [+61 to Attack Rating] [+5 to Mana] [Poison Length Reduced by 25%] [+1 to Mana After Each Kill] …
[Bat’s Cloak · Leather Armor] [Defense: 32] [+29% Enhanced Defense] [+10 to Life] [Lightning Resist +18%] [Cold Resist +10%] [Poison Resist +10%] …
[Raven Helm] [Defense: 15] [+10% Faster Hit Recovery] [+5 to Mana] [Fire Resist +10%] [Poison Resist +10%] [+1 to Light Radius] …
[Pale Bone Beads · Amulet] [+2 to Energy] [Lightning Resist +7%] [Cold Resist +7%] [Poison Resist +7%] [Fire Resist +21%] [36% Extra Gold from Monsters] …
Equipping this full set, Rayleigh felt his overall defense soar through the roof.
His elemental resistances, in particular, were now on a whole different level.
As for his base stats panel: [Class: Sorcerer (Fire)] [Strength: 25] [Dexterity: 20] [Vitality: 10] [Energy: 80] …
[Life: 60] [Mana: 150] [Fire Bolt: Level 10] [Fire Ball: Level 4] [Warmth: Level 1] [Ice Bolt: Level 1] His weapon itself granted +1 to Fire Bolt, +3 to Fire Ball, and +1 to Ice Bolt.
Right now, he was terrifyingly strong!
Rayleigh tallied his gains with immense satisfaction.
From here on, he just needed to dump points into Vitality to lock down his survivability.
His Strength would follow equipment requirements, and he would put a few points into Dexterity—after all, he was an agile little genius, and slick footwork depended entirely on it.
The reason he hadn’t dumped points into Vitality earlier and instead pumped Energy like crazy was pure necessity.
He was just too starved for mana.
Especially when practicing spells with Hermione, he couldn’t exactly stop halfway through a incantation, pull out a Mana Potion, and chug it down, could he?
If Hermione asked about it, how would he explain it?
He couldn’t very well say it was a ancestral secret recipe from his dad’s hemorrhoid hospital, could he?
While his Potions grades weren’t as abysmal as Neville’s, he was by no means an star pupil, so he couldn’t come up with a believable excuse.
Thus, he had to bite the bullet and stack Energy.
With 150 Mana, he could now cast 15 consecutive Fire Balls, or sustain standard spells up to 50 times.
He finally had the stamina expected of a proper mage.
Next up was Act II.
Survival was the top priority, so putting points into Vitality was put on the agenda.
Strutting smugly over to the Gryffindor table, Rayleigh delivered a sharp slap directly to Harry’s tense back.
*Slap!* “What are you moping about, Savior?” Harry jolted, nearly jumping out of his seat in surprise.
“Rayleigh!
What was that for!” Oddly enough, after being startled like that, most of the suffocating anxiety clogging his chest evaporated.
Rayleigh sat down casually, grabbed a piece of bread, stuffed it into his mouth, and mumbled around it, “Look at you, trembling like a leaf.
It’s just a Quidditch match!
Those Slytherin creeps couldn’t touch you even if you took a dump right over their heads on your broomstick.
What’s there to be scared of?” …Now he felt nervous again.
Should he go to the bathroom?
Harry glanced at Rayleigh with a hint of reproach.
…
Match time arrived.
When Harry rocketed into the arena aboard his Nimbus 2000, he found that once he was airborne, his nervousness vanished completely.
The wind roared past his ears, a sea of spectators surged below, and the entire world opened up before him.
He was born for Quidditch.
“Go, Harry!” Ron and Hermione screamed at the top of their lungs from the stands.
As the game began, Harry performed magnificently, lithely dodging wild Bludgers while his eyes swept the field like radar, searching for a flash of gold.
Suddenly, an anomaly occurred!
The Nimbus 2000 beneath him began to buck violently, as if an invisible hand were frantically shaking it, trying to fling him out of the sky!
“Harry!” Hermione shrieked.
Ron’s face went deadly pale.
“What’s wrong?
Is the broom malfunctioning?” Rayleigh narrowed his eyes.
He remembered this part of the plot.
Tracing a line through the gaps in the crowd, he peered toward the staff stands opposite them.
Sure enough!
Professor Quirrell was staring fixedly at Harry, his mouth muttering continuously.
His intense focus practically screamed “I’m up to something malicious.” Right next to him, Severus Snape was also staring intently at Harry, his black robes billowing in the wind as his lips moved rapidly.
“It’s Snape!” Before Rayleigh could process the situation, Hermione had already jumped to a conclusion.
She grabbed Rayleigh’s arm, her eyes ablaze with anxiety and fury.
“He’s trying to kill Harry!
We have to stop him!” “Wait!
Hold on, girl!
Look closely, the guy next to him in the turban is way more suspicious!” Rayleigh tried to struggle.
However, Hermione had fully transformed into a champion of justice.
Possessing surprising strength, she gave Rayleigh zero chance to defend his point and dragged him along as she pushed through the crowd toward Snape.
“There’s no time!” Navigating through the packed stands, Hermione moved with terrifying purpose.
She drew her wand from her robes, aimed it at the hem of Snape’s greasy black robes, and whispered an incantation under her breath.
A small cluster of blue flames flickered into existence, silently licking at the edge of Snape’s hem.
Severus Snape, completely focused on chanting his counter-curse, paid no mind to the disturbance behind him.
It wasn’t until a burning smell drifted up that a professor beside him squeaked in horror and began slapping his back.
Snape snapped back to reality, frantically swatting at the flames on his clothes.
In the chaos, he collided hard into Professor Quirrell beside him.
*Bang!* Professor Quirrell stumbled from the impact, and the sinister curse spouting from his mouth abruptly cut off.
Up in midair, Harry’s Nimbus 2000 instantly regained its stability.
Seizing this split-second opportunity, Harry lunged forward and, before anyone else could react, snatched the Golden Snitch out of the air!
Or rather, he nearly swallowed the Golden Snitch.
The referee’s whistle echoed through the skies!
“Harry Potter has caught the Golden Snitch!
Gryffindor wins!” The entire stands erupted into chaos!
However, after a wildly enthusiastic victory party, Rayleigh, Hermione, Ron, and Harry gathered together.
The joy of victory was replaced by a deeper sense of unease.
“That was way too dangerous just now,” Ron said, heart still pounding.
“I knew it was Snape!” Hermione declared, clenching her fists with total conviction.
Rayleigh looked at her and let out a sigh.
*Fine, I might as well play along with the old bumblebee’s game.* Though the trio had turned into a quartet, he was already pulled in far too deep to back out now.