"I'm lucky," Ginny shrugged, "the Golden Snitch flies fast, and Sambe happens to catch a cold, and he sneezes and closes his eyes when he shouldn't." Anyway, once you're back in the team......"

"Ginny, I got a lifetime ban. Harry said in frustration.

"You were just banned when Ambregie was in school. Ginny corrected him, "That's different. Anyway, if you come back, I'm going to try chasing the ball, Angelina and Alicia are going to graduate next year, and I like the feeling of scoring more. ”

Harry looked at Ron, who was hunched over in the corner, glaring at his knees and clutching a bottle of Butterbeer in his hand.

"Angelina still won't let him quit," said Ginny, as if she knew Harry's thoughts. She said she knew he was going to be fine. ”

Harry was happy with Angelina's faith in Ron, but thought maybe it would be better for him to let him go. Ron was overwhelmed when Slytherin happily sang "Weasley is our king", and the former was now confident of winning the Quidditch Cup.

Fred and George walked over.

"I knew he was going to run out of energy," Fred said as he looked at Ron's crooked figure, "and I'll warn you when he missed the ...... for the fourteenth time," he exaggerated with his arm as he made a doggy water skiing motion.

"Oh, I'll save it, huh?"

Ron soon dragged himself to sleep. To respect his feelings, Harry waited a while before he would be in the dormitory, lest Ron would have to pretend to be asleep. To be sure, when Harry finally returned to the room, Ron's snoring was a little louder, sounding completely fake.

Harry lay on the bed, thinking about the game. From the point of view of an onlooker, it was a complete failure. Ginny was doing very well, but he knew that if he had been allowed to come, he would have caught the Golden Snitch earlier. It had fluttered around Coke's ankle for a moment, and if Ginny hadn't hesitated, she could have won for Gryffindor.

Umbridge sat a few rows below Harry and Van Lin and Hermione, and once or twice she turned to look at him, the wide toad's mouth grinning, perhaps she thought it was a contented smile.

Harry lay in the darkness, furious by the memory. After a few minutes, however, he remembered that he had to clear all his emotions before bed, as Snape had reminded him after each Occlumenclumy class.

Harry tried to do so, but the thought of Snape deepening his resentment towards Umbridge found his mind focused on how much he hated the two men.

Slowly, Ron's snoring died down and was replaced by deep, slow breathing.

It was harder for Harry to fall asleep, his body was tired, but his mind couldn't rest. He dreamed of Neville and Professor Sprout waltzing outside the interrogation room while Professor McGonagall played bagpipes.

He looked at them with their cheerful looks, members. But when he left the classroom, he found that instead of a BarabastheBarmy tapestry, there was a torch stuck in a stand on the wall in front of him.

Harry turned his head slowly to the left, where, at the end of the long, windowless passageway, was a dark door. He walked towards it, excited. He had a strange feeling that this time he would have enough good luck to open it. He walked in front of it, excitedly to find a hot pale blue light on his right, the door was open, and he reached out and pushed it open......

Ron let out a loud, real snoring, and Harry snapped ake, finding his right hand reaching out into the darkness ahead, as if to open a door a hundred miles away.

With a sense of loss and guilt, he put his hand down. He knew he couldn't have seen the door, but he still had a strong curiosity to know what was behind it. He couldn't help but blame Ron a little bit for interrupting him, if only he could control his snoring.

But Harry didn't say anything about it, because it was so absurd that even he couldn't believe that Voldemort wanted him to see it.

Crystal ball?

Harry muttered, then turned to look at Van Lin's bed.

The familiar blue light still hadn't been extinguished, which seemed to reassure Harry, who had to look at his bed every night when he woke up every night to make sure he was okay at Hogwarts.

On Monday morning, when the owl came to deliver the letter, they went into the hall to have breakfast.

Hermione wasn't the only one desperately waiting to see the Daily Prophet: there was hardly anyone who wasn't anxious to hear from the escaped Death Eaters, who were still not caught, despite all the sightings.

Hermione gave the owl something to eat and immediately opened the newspaper. Van Lin looked at his magic book unhurriedly, while holding his sandwich on the other side.

Harry was drinking orange juice, and since he had only received a letter once a year, he thought it must have been delivered by mistake when an owl slammed it at him.

"Who are you looking for?" Harry moved the orange juice away from under the bird's beak with some weakness, and turned sideways to look at the name and address of the recipient: Harry Potter in the Hogwarts school hall was about to take the letter down as he frowned, three, four, five, or even more owls flapped their wings and flew down, squeezing their positions, stepping on the butter and salt dish, trying to make Harry read the letter he had brought first.

"What's going on?" Ron asked, surprised. The entire Gryffindor table leaned in, and the seventh owl flew down, screaming and flapping its wings.

"Harry!" Hermione gasped, reaching into the pile of feathers and pulling out a long, round package from a long-eared owl, "I think I know what that means—look at this first!" she opened the package, revealing a tightly rolled copy of March's Wizarding Weekly.

He opened it and saw his own face smiling sheepishly at him on the cover. The screen was covered in big red letters, which read: "Declare once again the truth about the mysterious man I met and the night he returned."

"Great, isn't it?" Luna cried, running to the Gryffindor table, squeezing between Fred and George. "It was published yesterday, and I asked my dad to send you a copy for free. That's what I'm looking forward to—" She waved at Harry, the owl flying around the table.

"Letters from readers. Van Lin said that he had experienced a lot since the Quidditch World Cup.

"That's what I thought," Hermione said eagerly, Harry, do you mind if we do—"

"Look," Harry said dumbfounded.

Hermione and Luna each tore open a letter.

"This is written by a guy who thinks you're a person who won't waver. Ron said as he looked at his letter cursoryly.

"This woman recommends that you go to St. Mungo's Hospital to try a nice course in striking spells. Hermione said, a little disappointed.

"That's good," Harry said slowly, reading a letter from a witch who lived in Pestry. "Hi, she said she believed me!"

"And this ......," Van Lin glanced at the address, "a French wizard, she also said that she believes in you, maybe we can still see Fleur's happiness." ”

"Oh, that's not very reliable. Fred said he enthusiastically joined the opener.

"This guy says you're not a gibberish, but he really can't believe that the mystery man is back, so he doesn't know what to do now. Oops, what a waste of parchment. ”

"Someone who believes in you again, Harry!" Hermione said excitedly. "I've read your story and come to the conclusion that the Daily Prophet has done you unjustly, and although I'm not quite willing to believe that the mystery man is really back, I think what you say is true. Wow, that's amazing!"

"There's another guy who thinks you're talking nonsense," Ron said, crumpling a letter over his shoulder. "But this one, she said you converted her faith, and she now thinks you're a hero — and she put a picture of it, so— wow!"