Harry Potter's : Fantastic Beasts Guide

"Come on, Harry!" Ron shouted at the top of his lungs, his voice filled with excitement. Harry Potter was flying at breakneck speed, clearly focused on something high above the Quidditch pitch.

"Catch the Snitch, Harry!" Hagrid roared from nearby, his booming voice drowning out nearly everyone else's cheers.

In the crowded Gryffindor stands, David wasn't as concerned about the match as he was about the sharp pain in his leg. Hermione, who had been watching Harry's daring flight, had grabbed his thigh tightly in her excitement.

"Ow—Hermione!" David grumbled, his face twisted in pain. "Can you please loosen your grip before you break my leg?"

Hermione quickly realized what she was doing and yanked her hand back, blushing furiously. "Oh! Sorry! I didn't mean to hurt you!" she stammered.

"It's fine," David said through gritted teeth, rubbing his sore leg. But his relief didn't last long. Up above, Harry's broomstick began to jerk violently. It looked like it was completely out of control, shaking and spinning as if it wanted to throw him off.

"David, look at that!" Hermione gasped, pointing upward.

Ron, sitting beside them, shouted in panic, "Something's wrong with Harry's broom! It's like it's possessed!"

David squinted, trying to focus on the chaos unfolding above them. Harry was barely clinging on, his knuckles white as he fought to stay on the broom. No one else seemed to notice—most of the crowd was too caught up in the fast-paced Quidditch match to see what was happening to Gryffindor's new Seeker.

"This doesn't make sense," David muttered, pulling out a pair of binoculars. He scanned the crowd, searching for anything unusual.

"I bet it's Snape!" Hermione declared, borrowing David's binoculars. "Look, he's muttering something! He's jinxing Harry's broom!"

David adjusted his focus to where Hermione pointed. Sure enough, Professor Snape was sitting in the stands, lips moving rapidly as if chanting a spell.

"See? I told you Snape is up to something!" Ron added, his voice full of conviction.

But David wasn't so sure. Nearby, he noticed another figure: Professor Quirrell, sitting quietly a few seats away from Snape. Oddly, Quirrell was muttering too.

"Wait a second," David said thoughtfully. "What if Snape isn't the one jinxing Harry? What if he's trying to protect him? Look at Professor Quirrell!"

"Quirrell?" Hermione frowned. "But he's so timid! Why would he do something like this?"

David didn't have time to explain his suspicions. Hermione suddenly stood up with determination.

"I'm going to stop Snape!" she announced, pushing her way through the crowd.

"Hermione, wait!" David called, scrambling to follow her.

In the Slytherin stands, Hermione charged toward Snape. She reached him, stumbled, and "accidentally" knocked over his cloak. In the commotion, Snape's chanting stopped. But Harry's broom didn't calm down—it became even wilder, rising higher into the sky.

David, meanwhile, had his eyes on Professor Quirrell, who had fallen down several steps in the confusion. But even while lying on the ground, Quirrell continued muttering under his breath, his eyes locked on Harry.

This confirmed David's suspicions. It wasn't Snape—it was Quirrell.

David hurried over and "accidentally" stepped on Quirrell's hand.

"Ahh! My hand!" Quirrell yelped, clutching his fingers.

"Oh no, Professor! I'm so sorry!" David said in mock panic, rubbing his foot over Quirrell's hand again for good measure. "Are you alright? I didn't see you there!"

Quirrell's face twitched in pain, but he quickly masked it with a nervous smile. "I-I'm fine. Just… please watch where you step next time."

"Of course, Professor! By the way, why were you lying on the stairs? Is this some kind of special viewing angle?" David asked innocently.

Quirrell forced a smile. "Yes, yes. A special angle. It's an old trick to see the match better. Perhaps I can teach you one day."

"Really? That's so kind of you, Professor!" David grinned before walking away, leaving Quirrell to nurse his injured hand.

Back in the Gryffindor stands, Hermione returned, looking triumphant.

"I did it!" she whispered excitedly. "Snape stopped chanting, and I set his cloak on fire for good measure!"

David raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything. There was no point arguing about Snape now.

Suddenly, the crowd erupted into cheers. Harry, who had been struggling moments ago, was now diving toward the ground at full speed.

"He's got it!" Ron screamed, jumping up and down.

Sure enough, Harry emerged from the dive clutching the Golden Snitch—in his mouth, no less! The Gryffindor stands exploded with applause.

David shook his head, smiling as he joined in the cheering. "Who knew Harry had such a big mouth?" he muttered to himself.

Hermione laughed, elbowing him playfully. "Whatever works, right? Gryffindor won!"

As the crowd poured onto the field to celebrate, David couldn't help but glance back at the stands where Professor Quirrell sat, quietly nursing his hand.

"Enjoy your victory, Harry," David thought. "But this isn't over."