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Later that evening, as Harry walked back to his dormitory, he reflected on his recent achievements and the path ahead. The Nimbus sponsorship deal was a strategic move, aligning his interests with those of influential wizarding families and companies. It was a step towards securing his position within the magical community, beyond the confines of Hogwarts.
Nigel's voice, always ready with a quip, broke through his thoughts, "You do realize, Master Harry, that with great visibility comes great scrutiny. Are you prepared for the spotlight that's about to be cast upon you?"
Harry nodded to himself. "I'm aware of the risks, Nigel. But the benefits outweigh them. This is a chance to build connections, to establish a network that could be crucial for my future endeavors."
The day of the first Quidditch match finally dawned, transforming Hogwarts with palpable excitement. Over the past week, the pitch had undergone significant renovations to accommodate the additional audience. Nimbus Racing Broom Company's workers, along with diligent house elves, were in charge of the expansion, meticulously working to increase seating, add VIP rooms, and enhance the overall experience.
When students filled the area designated for them, they were taken aback by the transformation of the pitch. It was far cry from its previous look, now boasting a more professional and grandiose appearance. The student and faculty areas were significantly expanded, with comfortable seats and a clearer view of the pitch. The VIP rooms, perched at strategic points, offered an unobstructed view of the entire field, their glass fronts reflecting the bright sunlight.
In the green and silver side of the seats, Daphne and Tracey stood with Malfoy, Zabini, Nott, Pansy, Bullstrode, and several others from Slytherin. The group was abuzz with anticipation, yet one question hung unspoken in the air, "Where is Potter?" Zabini's voiced query, though directed to no one in particular, caused everyone to glance at Daphne and Tracey, who were known to be closer to Harry.
Daphne simply shrugged, offering no insight, while Tracey mumbled an excuse, "He should appear soon." Her words, laced with hidden meaning, hinted at something more. Pansy, ever ready with a snarky remark, quipped, "I bet he's studying. To achieve such success in every class, he even gave up on sleep and ended up passing out in the hallway. A nerd wouldn't know what a sport is." Her comment elicited a rare smile from Daphne, a sight unfamiliar to those not well acquainted with her.
Pansy, taken aback by Daphne's reaction, pressed, "What?" But Daphne merely turned her gaze back to the pitch, her eyes briefly meeting those of her family seated in the sold ticket area. She caught the eyes of her sister Astoria and her parents.
Meanwhile, in the student seating area, the atmosphere was electric. Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff students, decked out in their house colors, chattered excitedly, speculating about the upcoming match. The Nimbus sponsorship had certainly raised the stakes, and the presence of outside spectators added an extra layer of thrill to the event.
Back in the Slytherin locker room, Harry was sitting with a hood watching Marcus talking to his team. Nigel's voice resonated in Harry's mind, "The stage is set, and the audience is waiting. It's your time to shine, Master Harry. Just remember, amidst all this grandeur, it's still a game."
Harry, hidden from view for the moment, smirked at Nigel's words. "Oh, I know, Nigel. All this is just a small game in the grand scheme of things." He listened as Lee Jordan's voice echoed through the stadium, announcing the Gryffindor team. Marcus Flint, the Slytherin Captain, rallied his team. "Time to show them what we're made of," he declared with a confident smirk.
Adrian Pucey, one of the Chasers, glanced curiously at the hooded figure in their midst. "Who is this guy?" he asked, nodding towards Harry.
Marcus's smirk widened. "Our new Seeker."
The team exchanged surprised glances. "What about Terrence?" asked Miles Bletchley, the Keeper.
"Terrence is focusing on his N.E.W.T.s," Marcus explained. "He was going to play on my insistence, but we found a better Seeker."
The team was skeptical, but they respected Marcus's decision. As Lee Jordan's voice rang out, "Now, raise your voice for the Slytherin Team!" Marcus gave the signal. "Let's go."
The team mounted their brooms, and at the far back, Harry shed his hood and climbed onto his custom-made Nimbus 2000. As they soared into the air, the crowd's reaction was immediate and thunderous.
In the Slytherin section, Daphne and Tracey exchanged triumphant glances, their eyes shining with pride. Malfoy, Zabini, and Nott looked on in stunned silence, their expressions a mix of disbelief and awe. Pansy Parkinson's mouth hung open, her earlier snarky comment about Harry being a nerd forgotten in the wake of his dramatic entrance.
The Gryffindor side, led by Oliver Wood, eyed the new Slytherin Seeker with a mix of curiosity and competitive fire. Harry's presence on the field added an unexpected twist to the game, raising the stakes even higher.
In the VIP section, influential witches and wizards leaned forward in their seats, their interest piqued. Whispers and murmurs spread like wildfire, speculating on Harry Potter's sudden appearance as the Slytherin Seeker.
Hermione Granger and Neville Longbottom, seated among the Gryffindor students, shared a look of surprise. "I didn't know Harry played Quidditch," Hermione murmured, her eyes wide with shock.
Neville, equally astonished, stammered, "He's full of surprises, that one."
In the commentator's booth, Lee Jordan struggled to maintain his usual composure. "And here comes the Slytherin team, led by Captain Marcus Flint. Wait—is that Harry Potter? The Harry Potter, as Slytherin's new Seeker? This is going to be an interesting match, folks!"
The Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff students, initially neutral, now buzzed with excitement, sensing that the game would be one for the history books.
The press, seated in their designated area, were scribbling notes feverishly as they watched Harry Potter, the unexpected Slytherin Seeker, hover effortlessly on his broom. It wasn't just any broom – it was a masterpiece that commanded attention. The handle, a deep, lustrous wood, seemed to capture and reflect light in a way that was almost hypnotic. Silver and green patterns spiraled along its length, the silver shimmering like moonbeams filtering through dense forest leaves, and the green pulsating with the vibrancy of life, perfectly embodying the Slytherin spirit.
The crowd, some with mouths agape, couldn't help but marvel at the broom's elegance. Engravings of serpents, artfully crafted, wound around the handle, their presence more than mere decoration; they pulsed with a subtle magic, suggesting an intertwining of form and function. The broom's bristles were a testament to precision engineering, each strand uniformly dark and flawlessly aligned, contrasting starkly with the handle's lively colors.
Atop the handle, just beneath the bristles, the initial 'P' was inscribed, surrounded by a design reminiscent of a family crest. It was a personal signature that spoke volumes about the broom's unique connection to Harry.
As Harry floated there, the stadium buzzed with whispers and exclamations, the air electric with anticipation. The Gryffindor team, led by Oliver Wood, eyed the new Slytherin Seeker warily, recalibrating their strategy in light of this unexpected development.
Nigel's voice, tinged with a blend of pride and amusement, echoed in Harry's mind. "Well, Master Harry, you certainly know how to make an entrance. That broom of yours is causing quite the stir. I dare say it's almost as attention-grabbing as you are."
Harry, maintaining his focus on the game, answered. "It's all part of the plan, Nigel. A bit of showmanship never hurts, especially when it comes to Quidditch."
When Madam Hooch appeared on the field, Quaffle in hand and the whistle at her neck, the tension in the air was palpable. "I want a nice clean game," she declared, eyeing both teams sternly. As she kicked open the box, bludgers and the golden snitch burst into the air, ready to be pursued.
Harry, perched on his broomstick, spoke in his mind, "Nigel, focus on the Golden Snitch."
Nigel, ever the source of dry wit, chuckled, "Ah, cheating in your first game. How very Slytherin of you, Master Harry."
Harry, choosing to ignore the sarcastic remark, concentrated on the task ahead. The moment Madam Hooch released the Quaffle, launching the game, the stadium erupted in cheers. Harry, however, was fixated on the bright golden spot marked by Nigel in his vision. "Show me its path. Calculate every turn," he commanded internally.
Nigel acquiesced, drawing a virtual path for Harry to follow. Meanwhile, Lee Jordan's commentary filled the stadium, "Gryffindor's got the Quaffle, going for the goal." But Harry paid no mind, his eyes locked onto the Snitch's trajectory.
Then, something astounding happened. "What is that? Harry Potter's onto something," Lee Jordan exclaimed, his voice tinged with disbelief. The crowd's attention shifted, their eyes widening in amazement.
Standing atop his broomstick, Harry executed a breathtaking flipover, landing deftly on the ground with the Golden Snitch securely in his hand. "What is that! Harry Potter caught the Snitch in mere three seconds and a quarter. This is a world record!" Jordan's voice echoed through the stadium, incredulous. (The canon World Record is 3 seconds and half. The original record holder earned it through casually swerving just after the start of the match and the Snitch flew right up his sleeve, a move then immortalized as the "Plumpton Pass." Plumpton claimed for the rest of his life that he meant to do it… What Harry did is not impossible canon-wise.)
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