The Silent Bookstore Manager at Hogwarts

Of course, Zachary's appearance didn't just teach Red a new language; at Red's request, Zachary also gave Harry a lesson.

"In fact, I don't know what I can teach an eleven-year-old."

Zachary didn't seem to want to say anything more, but he still cleared his throat reluctantly.

"But in that case, would you like to hear how we handle... all sorts of incidents? Before I left the Anti-Corruption Bureau, I handled quite a few things as well."

Zachary finally decided to talk about his previous job experience. He couldn't say nothing, but he also couldn't say everything, so he could only talk about some unimportant things.

What Harry wanted to hear was exactly these irrelevant things. He truly felt that he was exhausted both physically and mentally today, and even his best efforts to suppress it were meaningless. He could even now maintain a bizarre routine of falling asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow but waking up at the slightest sound.

So Zachary told him a lot about dealing with all sorts of strange things, which was part of the Bureau of Countermeasures' work. Before leaving, Zachary even had Harry test his shooting skills.

"Your Excellency, your apprentice's shooting talent is quite impressive."

Zachary's assessment was that nothing could change his expression, even knowing that his friend Hobson was almost beyond saving.

Aside from that, Zachary didn't say much. He simply bowed to Red, then silently packed his luggage and left the Silent Bookstore, preparing to visit his old friend and hoping he could be of help.

"Red, do I really have this talent? I can barely hold a gun properly."

Harry shook his wrist. He really didn't think the stern-faced man's claim of talent was true. To Harry, it seemed more like a veiled compliment or advice.

"It's already quite good that you managed to get the right posture on your first try. If we're being honest, that guy is a sharpshooter. There are very few people who can compare to him in terms of pure firearms shooting."

Red shook his head. The Quidditch season was almost here, and Harry needed to get into the swing of things. Otherwise, Red was afraid Harry would just watch as the opposing players threw the ball out and smash their heads in.

Harry understood that the biggest obstacle to learning the Great Arts was not the difficulty of talent or knowledge, but that Harry had to maintain his own existence under the guidance of the Great Arts, rather than being submerged in them and becoming a puppet of their power.

Harry could only nod, clearing the thoughts from his mind. He only had one thing to do now: focus on his Quidditch match.

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With the start of the new Quidditch season, the entire Hogwarts was swept up in Quidditch fever. Almost everywhere, young wizards were discussing the Quidditch teams of the four houses and their members. Of course, many people also mentioned Harry, the legendary student who defeated a troll in his first year.

"You guys know what? It seems like Harry always disappears during Gryffindor Quidditch practice, don't you think...?"

"What? You mean Harry Potter has become a member of the Quidditch team? Didn't you realize how ridiculous you were saying that?"

All the discussion focused on today's Gryffindor vs. Slytherin match. After all, the two houses had a long-standing feud, and the tension was palpable. Harry could feel the intense atmosphere of conflict even before he stepped onto the field.

Of course, this grand spectacle did not shake his heart. In the past, he might have been a little nervous, but after fighting and defeating the troll at close range, Harry suddenly felt that many things could no longer shake his heart, at least not this Quidditch match.

Harry, making his debut as a secret weapon, quickly attracted the attention of everyone in the audience. Some cheered for him, while others looked at the first-year wizard with suspicion, as if they were examining whether he was really qualified to join the team.

Professor McGonagall looked at the secret weapon she had found with a hint of excitement. She genuinely felt that Harry was quite surprising in some ways, not just in his control of the flying broomstick.

"Harry, the Golden Snitch is in your hands... We will do our best to maximize our advantage."

Captain Wood said those last words before the match began, and then, as Madam Hooch tossed the Quaffle into the air, the match officially started. All Harry could hear was the whistling wind. Riding on a flying broomstick was indeed a wonderful experience. Harry's eyes were fixed on the Golden Snitch. The Quidditch players from Gryffindor and Slytherin were already fighting together in a chaotic frenzy.

However, it was obvious that Slytherin's tactics were a bit dirtier. At least Harry could clearly see that they didn't seem to want to play Quidditch according to the rules, but rather wanted to skirt the rules and do something dirty to the Gryffindor members. Wood was knocked unconscious because he couldn't defend against this and fell to the ground with his broom. Fortunately, the height was not high and he seemed to be fine.

"Is this what they call a savior? He doesn't look very impressive."

Although Harry didn't hear what the Slytherin Quidditch player said, he understood what he meant. However, Harry didn't care about such opinions. What he needed to do was find the Golden Snitch and win the game. Everything else was unnecessary. On the battlefield, survival is victory; on the Quidditch pitch, ending the game is victory.

As Harry was mentally calculating the Golden Snitch's route, he suddenly felt a tremendous force pulling on his broom. He initially thought it was a Slytherin player trying to interfere with his actions, but it was clear that wasn't the case. Soon, his broom began to go out of control, swinging him around as if trying to make him fall directly from the sky.

"Harry, someone's made a move. Guess who?"

Red's voice suddenly entered Harry's brain, and almost instantly Harry made his decision. He released his broom and began freefall amidst the gasps of Professor McGonagall, Hagrid, and his friends.

He looked at his glasses; the lenses of the [Tilde Lens], after being specially polished, reflected the current state of the audience seats.

Snape stared wide-eyed in disbelief, a look of panic even appearing on his face, as if he were astonished at why Harry had suddenly been thrown down.

"Is this what it feels like to float?"

Harry didn't let himself freefall, nor did he cast a levitation spell; he turned to look at the ground.