Hogwarts: Oh no, I've become Voldemort!

Colin's mouth chattered on and on like a machine gun, but Ginny only caught the first five words: No class today...

No classes!

"I'm going back to rest."

"Aren't you going to watch the game?" Colin asked in surprise.

He thought every wizard in the magical world liked Quidditch! Besides, today was a Gryffindor match.

“Quidditch—” Ginny paused, wondering if she liked Quidditch.

Of course she liked it; in fact, she was always envious whenever she watched her brothers play family Quidditch at home. However, they rarely included her. But on the other hand, she was incredibly sleepy right now.

By the way, could you ask Mr. Riddle if he could help me record a Quidditch match?

"Okay, sleeping on the playground is about the same."

"what?"

"It's nothing, you go ahead first, I'll go to the playground later." Ginny rushed back to her dormitory and took out her diary.

“Mr. Riddle, there’s a Quidditch match today that I don’t want to miss, but I’m just too tired. Could you write it down in your journal, like when we’re talking face to face?”

Quidditch?

Cyrus was immediately drawn to Ginny's words. If he remembered correctly, in the original story, it was after this match that the second person was attacked by the basilisk.

— Colin Crevy.

That's the first-year student who kept bothering Harry.

Cyrus knew it was time to take action again.

"Of course! I guarantee you an authentic Quidditch match!"

"Great, I'll go to sleep now..."

Ginny fell asleep before she had finished writing.

Cyrus, in Ginny's body, was actually quite tired. However, he had stocked up on some energy-boosting pills during the flu season, and these were much more effective than coffee. The price was that he had to watch the Quidditch match with a spiky head.

"Hi Ginny, you've caught another cold?" Hermione greeted Ginny warmly on the playground.

She and Ginny had a very good relationship, but Ginny Weasley always gave her the impression of being frail and sickly. She had just recovered from the flu not long ago, and now she had it again…

"I just didn't sleep well; I stayed up late reading," Cyrus replied.

“Oh, it’s nice to enjoy reading, but you should get more rest,” Hermione said quickly, giving the carefree Ron a glare. “You should learn from your sister! That’s why she can cast spells on older students and break yours instead of getting herself into trouble!”

"Are you crazy? It's because my wand is broken!" Ron didn't expect to get slapped while he was just sitting there, and immediately cried out in grievance.

Hermione didn't say anything more. In fact, she was just making a routine suggestion to encourage her to study, but it had never been very effective.

Their attention returned to the field, where Gryffindor was at a disadvantage from the start.

“The situation isn’t looking good for the Gryffindor team. You know, Malfoy donated several Nimbus 2001s to the Slytherin team, but the Gryffindor team’s brooms are still the Sweeping series, and they’re not even the Seven Sweepings,” Ron said worriedly.

Even Harry's Nimbus 2000 is a level below Malfoy's broom.

Those black, smooth broom handles, like a cool and stylish sports car, caught Ron's eye.

The weather was very stuffy, and after a while, it started to rain.

The score is now 0 to 60, and Slytherin has scored 60 points!

Cyrus doesn't know much about golf, but he can understand the basic rules. A Quake is worth 10 points, a Golden Snitch is worth 150 points, and a Wanderer is worth no points. These Wanderers are usually used to hit people in order to hinder their movement.

However, now, one of the wandering balls is clearly having a problem—

“I think I saw this plot last year…” Ron said blankly.

"Someone tampered with that ball!" Hermione exclaimed, jumping to her feet immediately.

At this moment, the ball almost gave up attacking others and followed Harry as if it had eyes, forcing the twins, who were batters, to surround Harry and keep hitting it away.

Hermione instinctively looked at Snape, but after remembering what happened last semester, she couldn't help but look at Lockhart instead.

Handsome Lockhart?

How can this be?

Hermione did not notice anyone casting a spell.

Chapter 23 The Medical Master Lockhart

Cyrus looked toward the professors' table, where all the professors, including Dumbledore, watched with trepidation. Interestingly, however, none of them made a move.

Now, anyone could probably see that something was wrong with that wandering ball, but the professors remained unmoved, like a bunch of idiots.

"Aren't they going to do anything?" Cyrus couldn't help but ask.

Ron's expression wasn't good, but he still explained, "Of course they can't. You know, there are always unusual things that happen in a formal Quidditch match. If everyone interfered, the match couldn't go on. I think unless someone's life is in real danger, no one will intervene."

"But what about Harry and the others? Did no one suggest checking the Blink ball?"

“Of course not! What if the Blink Dagger is fine? Then they’ll be disqualified! Before the match, Wood told Harry, ‘Either catch the Golden Snitch or die on the field.’” Ron’s face turned pale. “We have to think of something!”

"I can't find out who's casting the spell!" Hermione said anxiously.

Cyrus knew who was behind it, but he had no intention of doing anything about it.

The gaze lingers on another seat on the playground. As the major financial backer of the Slytherin team, Lucius Malfoy has naturally come to the scene, partly to watch his son's game, and partly to see if the Dark Lord's diary really has a way to open the Chamber of Secrets.

The question is, will Lucius Malfoy act the same way he did in the original story this time?

When Riddle was controlling Ginny, did he secretly contact Lucius? Did he help him find a suitable time to drive Dumbledore away?

Cyrus immediately realized that his plan was probably not so easy to implement.

At this moment, Lucius Malfoy was watching Draco's match with all his heart. Although he was usually extremely strict and unforgiving towards Draco, he actually loved his son no less than the Weasleys.

But first, he must be Malfoy!

"It has to be Malfoy first!" Cyrus murmured silently, already having made up his mind.

But whether Riddle had contacted Lucius or not, at least for now, that was his intention. Bearing the Malfoy name, he dared not object to his orders.

Of course, not now.

"oh--!!!"

Suddenly, a huge and enthusiastic cheer startled him awake.

He saw the Gryffindors leap from their seats one by one, and Hermione and Ron, without hesitation, pulled him through the crowd and jumped onto the playground. Many others had followed suit, especially after Harry's almost tragic victory!

He became a hero in all of Gryffindor.

Cyrus only saw him lying on the ground, as if he was about to faint. To make matters worse, his arm was almost completely twisted and numb.

"Is he okay?"

“It’s hard to say. That crazy ball hit his right hand, and I think it was probably already broken at that point. Then he crashed into Malfoy, which terrified Malfoy,” Ron quickly said. “Later, he caught the Golden Snitch first, but his arm was injured even more badly.”

Three people surrounded Harry.

Just then, a bright and cheerful voice came from outside the crowded throng.

"Make way—let me see him!" Lockhart pushed his way through the crowd, and with his signature smile, confidently declared, "A broken hand? Leave it to me. I've seen this hundreds of times!"

Hermione quickly made room for him.

But Harry didn't trust him that much; no, he was even afraid of him.

Upon hearing Lockhart's voice, he was jolted awake from his unconsciousness and weakly protested, "Oh, no, I don't want you."

The voice was both resistant and filled with fear.

“I don’t know what he’s talking about,” Lockhart said loudly to the anxious Gryffindor students gathered around him. “Don’t worry, Harry. I’m just about to heal your arm.”

“No!” Harry said, “It’s fine as it is, thank you…”

At this point, war correspondent Colin also got involved, once again capturing Harry's embarrassing moment with his camera.

So, it's really not unjust that this kid was petrified...

“Lie down, Harry,” Lockhart reassured him. “It’s a simple spell that I’ve used countless times.”

“Why can’t I just go to the school hospital?” Harry gritted his teeth, glancing at Cyrus. “Even if it’s just Ginny…”

He recalled how easily Ginny had broken Ron's curse; by comparison, she was far more reliable than Lockhart.

In reality, Cyrus could easily cure Harry, but how could he petrify Colin, who was going to visit Harry in the hospital, if he didn't let the "medical genius" Lockhart show his skills?

“He really should go to the hospital,” said Wood, covered in mud, unable to suppress a smile despite his injured Seeker. “That was a stunt, Harry, brilliant! I’ve never seen you do anything like that before.”

Through the dense mass of legs around him, Harry saw Fred and George Weasley desperately trying to push the out-of-control ball back into the box. The ball was still struggling fiercely.

“Step back,” Lockhart said, rolling up his emerald green sleeves.

“No—no—” Harry said weakly, but Lockhart was already spinning his wand. A second later, he pointed the wand at Harry’s arm.

A strange, extremely uncomfortable sensation, like lightning, shot from Harry's shoulder to his fingertips. It felt as if his arm was being ripped away. He didn't dare look, closing his eyes and turning his face to the side. But as the people around him gasped and Colin Creevey began frantically snapping photos again, he realized his worst fears had come true: his arm no longer hurt—but it didn't feel like an arm at all.

“Ha,” Lockhart said hastily, “Yes, that’s right, sometimes it happens. But the important thing is, he’s not in pain anymore. Remember that. Well, Harry, go for a walk to the hospital—oh, Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger, would you like to come with him?—Mrs. Pomfrey would—oh—and give you another trim.”

Harry stood up, feeling his body strangely tilt to one side. He took a deep breath and looked down at his right side. The sight before him almost made him faint again.