The match was drawing near, and although Harry tried to ignore the chatter around him, his nerves were steadily fraying. The rest of the team wasn't exactly calm either—everyone was fired up at the prospect of finally defeating Slytherin in the House Cup. With Albert on the team, their confidence had only grown stronger.
It had been nearly seven years since Gryffindor last triumphed over Slytherin in a Quidditch final. No one had managed to break Slytherin's winning streak. To make matters worse, today's referee was none other than Professor Snape, notorious for his blatant favoritism toward his own house.
On the day of the match, Neville, Ron, and Hermione managed to find a spot in the stands. Neville, sitting beside Ron, looked around curiously, wondering why everyone was clutching their wands as if preparing for battle.
Hermione was mumbling under her breath, going over a list of possible spells. The tension in the air continued to thicken.
Just as the game was about to begin, Hermione suddenly interrupted Neville's idle thoughts.
"Look at the staff table," she said, pointing toward the row of seated professors.
"Professor Dumbledore is here too. That means there won't be any security issues today."
Sure enough, Hermione and Ron spotted Dumbledore's iconic silver-white beard and immediately exhaled with relief.
The whistle blew. The match had begun. As they leaned back to watch, someone suddenly smacked Ron on the back of the head.
It was Malfoy.
"Oh, sorry, Weasley. Didn't see you there," he said with a smirk. Crabbe and Goyle snickered beside him.
"I wonder how long Potter can stay on his broom this time. Anyone fancy a bet? How about you, Weasley?"
Everyone ignored him, their attention fixed on Harry's performance.
But Malfoy, clearly enjoying himself, didn't stop. Eventually, Ron couldn't take it anymore—he lunged forward and tackled Malfoy to the ground.
Hermione, quick to react, struck Goyle with a hasty Stunning Spell. Though it was imperfect, it was enough to take Goyle out of the fight temporarily.
A brawl broke out. Hermione, Ron, and Neville stood their ground against Malfoy, Crabbe, and the now-dazed Goyle.
Meanwhile, high above the pitch, Snape had just raised his wand toward Harry's broom when something flashed past his ear—golden and fast. Inches away.
Harry pulled out of his dive, grinning triumphantly, the Snitch clenched tightly in his fist.
Lee Jordan's voice rang out across the stadium:
"Unbelievable! Less than fifteen minutes into the game and Gryffindor—led by Albert and Harry—has done it! Four goals from Albert and a Snitch catch from Harry puts Gryffindor ahead, 190 to 90! They've won!"
The stands erupted. Cheers echoed like thunder. It was a new record—no one could recall a Snitch being caught so quickly.
"Neville! Ron! Where are you? The game's over! Albert and Harry won! We did it—Gryffindor's on top!" Hermione shrieked, jumping up and hugging Padma Patil in the row ahead.
Albert and Harry embraced in celebration, both beaming with pride over their victory in the finals.
"We really did it!" Harry laughed. "We beat Slytherin!"
Their joy was infectious.
An hour later, the cheering had quieted, and students began heading back to the castle. Harry and Albert followed slowly, walking together from across the grounds.
"Harry, where have you been?" Hermione snapped as they approached.
"We won! You won!" Ron shouted, clapping them both on the back. "Everyone's waiting in the common room! Fred and George nicked some cakes from the kitchens."
But before rejoining the others, they pulled into an empty classroom. Harry checked for Peeves, shut the door, and placed his broom carefully to the side. Then they told their friends what they had seen—and what they had overheard.
Snape had confronted Quirrell.
"He was threatening him," Harry said. "He wanted Quirrell to help him get to the Philosopher's Stone. He even asked if Quirrell knew how to get past the guard creature. Quirrell thinks there are more enchantments protecting the Stone, not just the creature. He may have cast some anti-dark magic spells, and Snape wants to break through them…"
"Are you saying," Hermione asked, horrified, "that the only reason the Stone is still safe is because Quirrell hasn't given in to Snape yet?"
Albert muttered a healing spell over his bruised eye—the result of colliding with Snape midair when he intervened to stop him from interfering with Harry's catch.
He shook his head. "No… we can't jump to conclusions. What Harry heard didn't confirm anything clearly. If anything, it sounded like Snape discovered something."
"Oh, come on," Ron scoffed. "Don't tell me you think Snape's a good guy just because he praised your homework. He gave those points away like candy just because the others brewed a decent potion."
Harry stood firm. "I don't care. I still think Snape's trying to steal the Stone."
They all voted in favor of distrusting Snape—except Albert, who held onto his quiet doubts.
Even so, Albert said nothing as the group tried to think of ways to thwart Snape. Harry was convinced Quirrell was the last line of defense. He began giving Quirrell encouraging smiles whenever he passed him in the halls. Ron even tried to stop people from mocking Quirrell's stutter.
Albert was speechless. By the end of the term, he was certain that when Harry finally faced Quirrell and Voldemort together, he would deeply regret this naïveté.
For Albert, though, the bigger concern was the upcoming final exams.
Exams at Hogwarts were no joke—they could make or break your future career. So he buried himself in his studies.
Hermione, unsurprisingly, was already deep into revision. When Albert studied with her, he was shocked to see her notebook color-coded and filled with carefully organized notes. She'd even made a strict revision timetable.
Under Hermione's strict eye, Albert stuck to his own schedule, which was somehow even more intense than the prep he did for high school entrance exams in his past life.
Still, seeing an eleven-year-old girl working so hard, he had no choice but to bite his lip and push on—his pride demanded it.
Harry and Ron, however, couldn't be bothered.
One day, as Hermione scolded them again, Harry snapped, "Hermione, the exams are still ages away!"
"Ten weeks will fly by in a blink," she replied. "You'd better start reviewing properly."
Ron rolled his eyes. "Honestly, why do you even need to study? You already know everything!"
Hermione looked at him like he was mad. "Why? Are you insane? We need to pass these exams to move on to second year! I should've started a month ago—I don't even know what I was thinking!"
Albert, watching them argue, quietly sat down and pretended to vanish into the background. He knew, deep down, that the best students weren't just brilliant—they made everyone else try harder too, whether they wanted to or not.
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