Sherlock Holmes at Hogwarts.

Chapter 210 As long as Sherlock speaks, everything will be alright.

Harry looked at Sherlock, and his eyes unconsciously welled up with tears.

He knows it!

Although Sherlock was busy with other things during this time, he never forgot about himself.

And even with such a busy schedule, he still managed to find time to do a data comparison between Nimbus 2000 and Nimbus 2001.

Sherlock is being far too good to himself!
However, Harry did not say these words aloud.

Good brothers, forever!

it is more than words.

After a while, seeing that it was almost time, Harry got up, dressed, and had breakfast with his roommates.

When they arrived at the Great Hall, they were surprised to find the rest of the Gryffindor Quidditch team crammed around an empty long table.

They all appeared nervous, uneasy, and taciturn.

Sherlock frowned upon seeing this.

It seems I underestimated the pressure that Nimbus 2001 put on the entire Gryffindor house team.

Harry, who had been comforted by Sherlock, immediately became nervous upon seeing this situation.

"Harry, you'd better eat some breakfast."

Ron mumbled as he stuffed cheese bread into his mouth.

Harry shook his head: "I don't want to eat anything."

"How about we have some toast?"

Hermione coaxed.

"I'm not hungry."

Harry continued to shake his head.

Ron and Hermione exchanged a glance, then looked at Sherlock.

Then and now, just as now and now.

Around the same time last year, Harry couldn't eat anything before his first Quidditch match.

No matter how much the two tried to persuade him, it was no use. Finally, Sherlock spoke up and Harry ate something.

At that time, the two were somewhat speechless, feeling that Harry only listened to Sherlock.

But now they only hope that Sherlock can unleash his power once again.

Harry is more important than anything else.

"Eat something, Harry—you need to conserve your energy. The Seeker is always the opponent's primary target."

Hermione and Ron breathed a long sigh of relief upon hearing this.

Sure enough, everything would be alright as long as Sherlock spoke.

and many more!

This voice!

Why is it a female?
The two suddenly realized that it wasn't Sherlock speaking, and looked up in surprise, only to find that Cho Chang, the Ravenclaw girl from the mysterious East, had appeared at some point and was now standing gracefully in front of the Gryffindor dining table.

That was exactly what she said.

Harry was stunned when he saw Cho Chang: "Cho, you, what are you doing here?"

"Isn't there a match for you today?"

Cho Chang greeted the others and then sat down opposite Harry.

Seeing Harry's somewhat dejected look, she frowned: "Don't be like this. Do you remember what I told you before?"

"Which sentence?"

"..."

Qiu Zhang said with some helplessness, but still said, "The key to deciding the outcome of the competition is always people."

"I know, but..."

"Eat something first. If you don't even believe in yourself, how can you expect your teammates to believe in you?"

Looking into Cho Chang's big, dark eyes, Harry paused for a moment, then nodded and took the toast that Neville handed him.

Sherlock nodded with satisfaction upon seeing this.

Hermione and Ron looked helpless.

So you think our words have no effect?

In any case, this result is good.

As eleven o'clock approached, the entire school faculty and students began heading to Quidditch Stadium.

Today was a hot and humid day, with distant rumbles of thunder in the air.

When Harry entered the dressing room, the team members put on their bright red Gryffindor uniforms and then sat down to listen to Wood's customary pre-match morale-boosting speech.

"Young men and young women."

Wood's gaze swept over each team member, lingering for a moment on Harry's face before he spoke:
"it's time."

“This is a significant moment,” Fred Weasley said.

“This is the moment we’ve been waiting for,” George Weasley said.

"Shut up, both of you!"

Wood said irritably, “Slytherin’s flying brooms are better than ours—that’s undeniable.”

But the people on our flying brooms are better than them; we train harder and have flown in all kinds of weather conditions.

“That’s absolutely right,” George Weasley said.

“My clothes haven’t dried since August,” Fred Weasley said.

"Shut up!"

Wood glared at the Weasley twins again; their constant banter had completely ruined the tension he had been trying to create.

He took another deep breath before speaking:
"We'll make them regret it—Harry!"

"To!"

"Choo Chang of Ravenclaw is right. You have to show everyone that as a Seeker, having a rich dad isn't enough."

The longer this drags on, the worse it will be for us. So Harry, we either have to finish this quickly or die on the field. You have to make the whole of Slytherin regret letting that little bastard Malfoy pay his way into the team!
Believe in yourself, the power is within you!
You can definitely do it!

Faced with Wood's repeated emphasis, Harry clenched his fists and nodded emphatically.

When the Gryffindor Quidditch players walked onto the field, they were greeted by a deafening roar of cheers and applause.

Professor Snape has indeed become quite ruthless during this period.

Not only Gryffindor, but Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff also lost a lot of points to him.

No other professor could do what Snape did—disregarding his personal image and frantically boosting his house's reputation—so both houses naturally wanted to see Slytherin defeated, which would be a way to vent their anger.

Quidditch teacher Ms. Hooch asked the two captains, Oliver Wood and Marcus Flint, to shake hands.

Wood was a strong man of average build, while Flint was an average man of average build.

The two glared at each other with threatening eyes, gripping each other's hands tightly, as if this would give them the upper hand.

"Listen to my whistle."

Ms. Huo Qi naturally noticed this scene, but she pretended not to have seen anything.

She knew all too well the feud between Gryffindor and Slytherin.

She doesn't bother with anything unless it's a foul on the field.

"Three—two—one—"

The crowd roared with excitement as they took off, fifteen flying brooms soaring into the leaden sky.

Harry flew higher than everyone, including the referee, and squinted as he looked around, searching for the Golden Snitch.

Hermione crossed her arms on her knees, staring intently at the arena.

She has a very solid theoretical knowledge of Quidditch.

He was even comparable to Wood, that fervent Quidditch boy.

But when it comes to practical experience, they fall short.

During this period, the Quidditch pitch was always occupied by the four house teams every weekend, which greatly reduced the time she had to learn to fly with Sherlock – in most cases, she would only stay on the pitch when Gryffindor was training.

Although Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw did not explicitly refuse, she and Sherlock did not linger in order to avoid suspicion.

As for Slytherin, there's no need to elaborate further.

Ron, with binoculars around his neck, was trying to spot Harry on the field.

"Bloody Hell! That little bastard Malfoy actually dared to provoke Harry!"

At this point, Ron had to admit that Malfoy was indeed talented at flying—at least much more so than him.

Through the telescope's view, Malfoy moved swiftly beneath Harry like an arrow.

This is not something that can be achieved simply by relying on the speed of the Nimbus 2001.

Ron reluctantly put down the binoculars, turned to look at Sherlock, and asked in surprise:

"Sherlock, why aren't you nervous at all?"

Upon hearing Sherlock's words, all the nearby children turned around.

Sherlock was indeed as Ron had said, his expression calm and showing no sign of tension.

"Now that Ron has mentioned it, I think so too."

Seamus asked, somewhat puzzled, "Holmes, you don't seem worried at all, why?"

“Yes, Holmes, those are Nimbus 2001s, and there are seven of them!” Dean couldn’t help but ask.

Faced with the doubts of his friends, Sherlock calmly and composedly said:
"It's simple, because Harry is much stronger than Malfoy."

Upon hearing Sherlock's words, everyone exchanged bewildered glances.

That's a really simple and blunt reason.

But... is it true?
“The people we really need to worry about are never people like Malfoy.”

Sherlock said softly.

Hermione didn't hear her clearly and asked, "Sherlock, what did you say?"

"nothing."

Sherlock's gaze wasn't just on Harry, or even on the field; while observing the game, he would occasionally glance at the stands.

No one knew what he was looking at; they just thought his behavior was a bit strange.

At this moment, it started to rain, and the rain got heavier and heavier.

Large drops of water hit Harry's face, making it difficult for him, who was wearing glasses and high in the air, to see the specific situation on the field.

Slytherin 30 to 0!

Just then, Lee Jordan's commentary served as a timely reminder that the situation was not optimistic.

Nimbus 2001 did ultimately prove effective.

Slytherin has already scored three goals in such a short time since the start of the game.

If it weren't for the outstanding performance of Gryffindor's captain and goalkeeper, they would have lost even more.

This only made Harry more nervous.

"Hey, isn't it exciting, Scarhead?"

Malfoy noticed Harry's anxious behavior and couldn't help but feel extremely smug.

Now that we're at the Quidditch pitch and Sherlock isn't around, I can curse Harry all I want.

It feels so good to be able to vent!

He even felt he could do something even more outrageous to Harry, like…

It knocked the opponent off the flying broom!
However, for now, we can only think about it; if we really want to put it into action, we need to plan it out carefully.

He knows Sherlock well; during a match, a normal collision wouldn't elicit any complaints from the opponent.

But if it's a malicious foul...

Gemma Farley has made it very clear.

"If you don't want to end up like Marcus Flint, you'd better apologize to Mr. Potter and Mr. Colin."

The thought of his prefectural chair made Malfoy feel nauseous.

It's utterly absurd that a Slytherin prefect, a pure-blood wizard, would speak up for those stinking Mudbloods!
If I were ever a class monitor, I definitely wouldn't act like her!
(End of this chapter)