But the sight of it frightened everyone half to death, because the Golden Snitch was flying very low, skimming close to the ground.
Harry dove after the Snitch, dropping rapidly as well, and he did not slow down at all—if anything, his speed kept increasing.
All the young wizards watching cried out in horror:
"No, Harry, stop!"
"He's going to crash!"
Madam Hooch saw what was happening and moved to stop him. If Harry really hit the ground at that speed, he would almost certainly be badly hurt—he might even die.
But before she could act, she suddenly realised her wand had slipped from her fingers and was now floating in midair in front of her.
She glanced to the side and saw Dumbledore wink at her.
"Trust him."
And so, amid the chorus of screams and gasps, Harry closed his fingers around the Golden Snitch—then twisted his body hard, forcing his broom into two tight spirals, and came to a dead stop with only a hair's breadth between him and the ground.
Everyone screamed at the top of their lungs, "Wronski Feint!"
The Wronski Feint was a Seeker move: you pretended to spot the Snitch and dived toward the ground at full speed. Just before you hit the ground, the player performing the feint would pull out of the dive, while the opposing Seeker often wouldn't react in time and would slam into the pitch.
The hard part of the move was the sudden stop. Going from top speed to an immediate halt was one of the most difficult techniques in all of Quidditch.
Harry hadn't even had Malfoy on his tail, but he still pulled off the stop—at the exact instant before he would have hit the ground, and he even had the time to grab the Snitch on the way.
That made it even harder than an ordinary Wronski Feint. Even in professional Quidditch matches, very few players could manage something like that.
And yet, today, right in front of their eyes, a first-year student who had only just started learning to fly had pulled off this super-difficult manoeuvre.
Merlin…
What kind of talent was that?
All the students were cheering wildly, and even Madam Hooch was no exception.
She stared unblinkingly at Harry as he sped across the pitch, the light in her eyes burning hotter and hotter.
As the flying instructor, Madam Hooch loved Quidditch as well. Seeing Harry's astonishing talent, a powerful thought rose up in her heart.
She wanted to train Harry herself—to raise this gifted boy into the brightest, most dazzling star on the Quidditch pitch!
She decided she had to talk to Harry later. With talent like that, not putting him into Quidditch would be a terrible waste.
Amid all the noise and commotion, Dumbledore was surprised as well, his face full of quiet amusement as he watched the high-spirited boy in the sky.
He said to Professor McGonagall, "Well, Minerva, was I right? Harry really did it."
Right now, McGonagall's eyes were wide with shock. She answered on reflex, "Yes… he really did win…"
Her heart was surging like a storm-tossed sea. She had never expected that on top of outstanding gifts in Potions and Transfiguration, Harry would also have such terrifying talent for Quidditch.
He hadn't even been trained, and yet he could already perform a Wronski Feint!
There was no doubt—Harry was a once-in-a-millennium genius in Quidditch as well.
Her thoughts immediately jumped to the sorry state of the Gryffindor Quidditch team in recent years. They hadn't won the Quidditch Cup for seven years straight.
Seven years. Did anyone have any idea what those seven years had been like for her?
For seven whole years, every time she ran into a fellow Head of House, she could barely hold her head up—especially in front of that big bat Snape.
Snape never taunted her on purpose, but facing the Head of House whose team had taken the Quidditch Cup over and over again, she couldn't help feeling uncomfortable.
Today, Professor McGonagall finally felt she could see hope. As long as she got Harry onto the Gryffindor Quidditch team, they were sure to beat Slytherin and win back the Cup!
As for Harry only being a first-year, McGonagall tossed that concern straight out of her mind.
On a Quidditch team, the place belonged to whoever had the skill. Age didn't matter. The reason they usually only picked students from third year and up was simply because first- and second-years weren't good enough yet.
Harry was clearly more than good enough. In that case, the fact that he was a first-year was actually a bonus.
With Harry on the team, Gryffindor might dominate the Quidditch pitch for the next seven years.
At that thought, the Kitty Professor was completely won over.
Afraid something might go wrong if she waited, she moved at once, saying quickly to Dumbledore, "Albus, I have something to take care of. Please excuse me."
Before Dumbledore could reply, the professor who was normally so poised and elegant broke into a little run in Harry's direction.
Left standing there, Dumbledore blinked, then shook his head with a helpless smile.
He knew very well how frustrated Minerva had been in recent years. Thinking of that, her loss of composure now was only natural.
Professor McGonagall strode toward Harry. When she reached him, she forced herself to calm down and called,
"Harry Potter, come with me!"
Her shout finally allowed Harry to extricate himself from the ring of cheering Gryffindors.
He walked up to her and asked, pretending to be puzzled, "Did you need something from me, Professor Cat… I mean, Professor McGonagall?"
The moment he saw her heading his way, he'd known the matter was settled.
There was no way Professor McGonagall could resist the temptation of Gryffindor winning the Quidditch Cup again; she would do everything she could to get him on the team.
And once she needed him that badly, he would be in the perfect position to ask her for a permission note for the Restricted Section.
Professor McGonagall, you don't want Gryffindor to keep losing forever… do you?
McGonagall led Harry back toward the castle, eyes burning into him as they walked.
"Your performance just now was excellent—yes, truly excellent. Your talent is extremely rare, and you're perfectly suited to being a Seeker. I wonder… would you be interested in joining the Quidditch team?"
This was exactly what Harry had hoped for, so of course he didn't refuse. He smiled.
"Of course, Professor. I'd be delighted."
Looking at the gifted boy in front of her, McGonagall could almost see the Gryffindor team lifting a shining golden Quidditch Cup. Her fondness for him shot up instantly.
"Good, good, good. I'll take you to see the team captain right away!"
Following Professor McGonagall, Harry climbed the front steps of the castle. They went through door after door until they stopped in front of a classroom.
McGonagall pushed the door open and stuck her head inside. "Sorry to disturb you, Professor Flitwick. Could you send Wood out for a moment?"
Harry recognised the name—Oliver Wood, the captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team.
Wood had been a little confused at first, but after listening to McGonagall's explanation, he stared at Harry in disbelief, his face lighting up with joy.
"Merlin's beard! So someone really can do that? Not even Charlie Weasley managed it!"
Charlie Weasley had been a Chaser on the previous Gryffindor team, incredibly gifted, and had led them to the Quidditch Cup many times.
Wood was over the moon. The look on his face was as if all his dreams had come true in an instant.
He said excitedly, "Your build is perfect for a Seeker. You absolutely must join our team!"
The Gryffindor Quidditch captain seized Harry's hand and couldn't bear to let go.
To him, it felt like he was already holding the Quidditch Cup itself.
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