Wood, hearing that Harry had no experience with Quidditch, opened the box to show the game balls.
"Let me explain the rules first..."
"No need for such trouble."
Sherlock interrupted Wood. "Just get two broomsticks."
Wood looked to McGonagall, and seeing her nod, he promptly fetched two broomsticks.
Sherlock handed one to Harry, then jumped onto the other and flew directly into the air, gesturing for Harry to follow.
Wood's eyes immediately brightened.
As they say, when an expert makes a move, you immediately know if they have skill.
As the house team captain, just that one takeoff was enough for him to see many things.
Clearly, both young wizards had considerable talent in flying.
Maintaining parallel flight with Sherlock in mid-air, Harry asked nervously: "Sherlock, what do we do now?"
Sherlock directly pulled something from his pocket and held it up before Harry.
"Look!"
It was a spherical object that glittered in the sunlight.
"Neville's Remembrall? How did you get it?"
Harry recognized it immediately.
"I picked it from him before we went to find Professor McGonagall."
Harry looked shocked: "But we were together the whole time. When did you..."
"Harry, that's not important," Sherlock interrupted. "Your task now is to not let it hit the ground."
"Huh?"
Harry couldn't understand. The Remembrall was in Sherlock's hand—why would it fall to the ground?
Sherlock didn't explain, just smiled slightly:
"Dear Harry, you wouldn't want Neville to be heartbroken over his broken Remembrall, would you?"
Harry: w(ﾟДﾟ)w
The moment Sherlock said this, Harry immediately had an ominous premonition.
The next moment.
"Go!"
Sherlock directly threw Neville's Remembrall out.
He gave Harry no time to prepare—or rather, that previous sentence had already been his warning to Harry to get ready.
Harry hadn't expected Sherlock to do this at all.
Fortunately, his body reacted faster than his brain.
Almost without thinking, he pointed his broomstick downward and accelerated into a dive toward the ground.
Under the combined force of gravity and magic, his speed grew faster and faster, until it seemed he would crash heavily into the ground.
Harry could even hear Ron's screams mixed with the howling wind, yet he felt no tension at all.
Not only was he not tense, but he was unusually calm, even somewhat excited.
Finally, he caught the glass ball at a height of one foot from the ground.
He pulled the broomstick up just in time, letting it settle gently on the grass, the Remembrall held securely in his palm.
He then discovered that Sherlock had somehow returned to the ground as well. Just as he was about to speak, angry shouts came from behind him.
"Potter!"
McGonagall strode over, the wand in her hand not yet put away, her right palm holding the wand slick with sweat.
She had been just moments away from using magic to save him.
"In all my years at Hogwarts... I have never..."
The familiar words made Sherlock raise an eyebrow.
"How dare you... you could have broken your neck!"
"..."
Harry was speechless. He truly didn't know what he should say at such a moment.
He felt that anything he said would be wrong.
Fortunately, there was Sherlock.
"Professor, I think this performance is sufficient to prove Harry's talent."
The calm voice formed a sharp contrast with McGonagall's agitation.
"Sherlock Holmes!"
The moment Sherlock spoke, he drew all the fire away from Harry, allowing the latter to breathe a quiet sigh of relief while his gratitude toward Sherlock rose once again.
"Making a fellow student do such a thing—you're absolutely reckless! If something had happened to Potter, you would bear full responsibility!"
"Nothing would happen to him. I believe in him, and even more in you, Professor."
"You..."
McGonagall was left speechless.
"Brilliant! A real natural!"
Just then, Wood spoke at the perfect moment, interrupting McGonagall's building emotions.
"A fifty-foot dive to catch that thing cleanly, and he didn't even get a scratch!
Even Charlie Weasley couldn't have done that!"
He practically leaped to Harry's side.
Gripping firmly the hand with which Harry held the Remembrall, the obsession and fanaticism in his gaze made McGonagall's mouth twitch.
"Professor, listen to me—we must get him a proper broomstick!
I say, let's get a Nimbus 2000 or a Cleansweep Seven—no, it has to be a Nimbus 2000..."
His appearance forced McGonagall to stop being angry at Sherlock.
"Wood, Potter is still a first-year student..."
"That's not a problem!"
Wood waved his hand domineeringly:
"Professor, you must go to Professor Dumbledore and get us permission to use a first-year student!
If you don't go, I'll go myself!
You know we desperately need a Quidditch team better than last year's!
Harry, I welcome you to the Gryffindor house team.
As captain, I'm officially notifying you that training starts next week!"
McGonagall: (⊙﹏⊙)
Watching Wood's self-directed monologue, McGonagall suddenly felt somewhat superfluous.
Oliver Wood was indeed an excellent student with good character and academics.
But whenever Quidditch was mentioned, he seemed to become a different person.
However, she had to admit that Wood was absolutely right.
Harry Potter—he really was a natural talent.
"Potter."
Harry immediately turned to McGonagall, adopting an attentive listening posture.
"I want to hear that you're training hard, or I'll change my mind and punish you."
At this moment, Harry could hardly believe what he was hearing.
He had actually been promoted exceptionally?!
"It must be kept secret—after all, this is the youngest house team player in a century. You'll be our secret weapon!"
Just looking at Wood's expression, it was as if he had already won the House Cup.
"Hopefully."
Sherlock was noncommittal about this.
He wasn't optimistic about keeping this matter secret.
"As for you, Mr. Holmes."
Professor McGonagall turned to Sherlock. "Harry's performance saved you from losing points and being put in detention, but that doesn't prove your reckless behavior was correct!"
Sherlock sighed. He had already guessed what she was going to say next.
Sure enough, Professor McGonagall seized the opportunity to make her demand:
"So, I don't want to hear anyone tell me again that you're missing Professor Quirrell's Defense Against the Dark Arts classes!"
"Very well, Professor."
Sherlock's straightforward agreement somewhat surprised McGonagall, and also disappointed her.
She had originally thought this unconventional little fellow would resist a bit more.
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