Chapter 41: Exceptional Promotion

Wood, learning that Harry had no prior experience with Quidditch, opened the box to reveal the game balls.

"Let me explain the rules to you first..."

"That won't be necessary," Sherlock interrupted, cutting Wood off. "Just get two broomsticks."

Wood looked toward Professor McGonagall, and upon seeing her nod, he promptly fetched two broomsticks. Sherlock handed one to Harry, then vaulted onto his own and soared into the air, signaling for Harry to follow.

Wood’s eyes lit up immediately.

As the saying goes, one can tell the quality of an expert by their very first move. As the team captain, a single takeoff was enough for him to glean a great deal. Clearly, both of these young wizards possessed considerable natural talent for flying.

Hovering parallel to Sherlock in mid-air, Harry asked nervously, "Sherlock, what do we do now?"

Sherlock reached into his robes and flourished an object before Harry’s eyes.

"Look!"

It was a spherical object, glinting in the sunlight.

"Neville’s Remembrall? How did you get that?" Harry recognized it instantly.

"I pinched it from him on the way to see Professor McGonagall."

Harry looked shocked. "But we were together the whole time, when did you—"

"Harry, that isn't important," Sherlock interrupted. "Your task now is to keep it from hitting the ground."

"Huh?"

Harry was bewildered. The Remembrall was in Sherlock’s hand, so how could it fall? Sherlock didn't explain, offering only a faint smile.

"My dear Harry, you wouldn't want Neville to be sad and tearful because his Remembrall got broken, would you?"

Harry: w(ﾟДﾟ)w

As soon as Sherlock uttered those words, a sense of foreboding washed over Harry.

The next moment.

"Go!"

Sherlock tossed the Remembrall away. He gave Harry no time to prepare—or rather, that previous sentence had served as the warning. Harry never expected Sherlock to actually do it.

Fortunately, his body reacted faster than his brain. Almost without thinking, he pointed his broomstick downward and dived toward the ground. Under the combined forces of gravity and magic, he gained speed, faster and faster, appearing as though he were about to crash violently into the grass.

Harry could hear Ron screaming amidst the whistling wind, but he felt no fear. On the contrary, he was exceptionally calm, even a bit exhilarated.

In the end, he caught the glass ball just one foot above the ground. He leveled out his broom, letting it graze the grass as he landed, his hand gripping the Remembrall firmly. He realized Sherlock had already returned to the ground, and just as he was about to speak, a roar came from behind him.

"Potter!"

McGonagall strode over, her wand still in hand; her palm was slick with sweat. She had been a heartbeat away from using magic to save him.

"I have been at Hogwarts for so many years... I have never..."

The familiar phrasing made Sherlock raise an eyebrow.

"How dare you... you could have broken your neck!"

"..."

Harry was speechless; he truly didn't know what to say in such a moment. It felt as though anything he said would be wrong. Fortunately, there was Sherlock.

"Professor, I think this performance is sufficient proof of Harry’s talent."

His calm voice stood in stark contrast to McGonagall’s agitation.

"Sherlock Holmes!"

Sherlock’s intervention drew the heat away from Harry, allowing the latter to breathe a sigh of relief and heightening his gratitude toward Sherlock.

"To put a classmate through such a thing, you are utterly reckless! If anything had happened to Potter, you would be held entirely responsible!"

"He is fine. I trust him, and I trust you even more, Professor."

"You..."

McGonagall was left speechless.

"A genius, a true genius!"

At that moment, Wood spoke up, perfectly timed to interrupt McGonagall as she was still gathering her indignation.

"A fifty-foot dive, caught the thing clean, and not even a scratch on him! Even Charlie Weasley couldn't have managed that!"

He practically lunged toward Harry, clutching the hand holding the Remembrall. The obsession and fervor in his eyes made the corner of McGonagall’s mouth twitch.

"Professor, take my word for it, we must get him a proper broom! I suggest a Nimbus 2000 or a Cleansweep Seven—no, it has to be a Nimbus 2000..."

His appearance forced McGonagall to stop scolding Sherlock.

"Wood, Potter is still a first-year student..."

"That is not a problem!" Wood waved his hand with authoritative flair. "Professor, you must speak to Professor Dumbledore and let us make an exception for a first-year! If you won't, I will! You know we need a better Quidditch team than last year's! Harry, I welcome you to the Gryffindor team. As captain, I am officially notifying you: training starts next week!"

McGonagall: (⊙﹏⊙)

Watching Wood ramble on, McGonagall suddenly felt a bit redundant. Oliver Wood was indeed a model student with excellent conduct, but whenever Quidditch was mentioned, he seemed like a different person. However, she had to admit, Wood was not wrong. Harry Potter was truly a genius.

"Potter."

Harry quickly turned to McGonagall, assuming an attentive posture.

"I expect to hear that you are training hard, or I shall change my mind and punish you."

At that moment, Harry could hardly believe his ears. He had actually been granted an exception?

"Keep it a secret, mind you. After all, you are the youngest house team player in a century; you will be our secret weapon!"

Looking at the expression on Wood’s face, one would think he had already won the House Cup.

"Let’s hope so," Sherlock remarked, noncommittal. He held no hope that this would remain a secret.

"As for you, Mr. Holmes," Professor McGonagall turned to Sherlock, "Harry’s performance has saved you from losing points and spared you from detention, but that does not mean your reckless behavior was correct!"

Sherlock sighed; he had already guessed what she would say next. Sure enough, Professor McGonagall seized the opportunity to set a condition:

"So, I do not want to hear again that you have been absent from Professor Quirrell’s Defense Against the Dark Arts class!"

"Very well, Professor."

Sherlock’s prompt agreement took McGonagall by surprise and left her slightly disappointed. She had expected this maverick young man to put up some resistance.