Harry Potter : Bloodraven-Chapter 64: Trial of Unity (III) (CH - 84)

Whoosh!

A small figure sliced through the air like an arrow, shooting straight up through the seventeenth obstacle before making a sharp right turn without much change in speed.

His grip was tight on the broom handle, his body leaning forward, and his eyes focused like an eagle locking onto the next target. The eighteenth hoop was just ahead, and he leaned forward even more before accelerating toward it.

His mind was so fixed on the task that not even the roar of the crowd below, chanting his name like a riot, caused the slightest reaction to distract him from achieving his goal.

The trials had been going on for over half a day, with the sun already past its peak. During all this time, he had watched his friends and seniors take the test before him, never participating himself—just observing every twist and turn, every little trick they used to navigate through the trial, and noting down every technique he could use to make his turn count and succeed.

Even though he hadn't had the chance to practice the things he had observed and taken into account, he had played them out in his mind countless times.

Morover, he was confident he could pass all thirty obstacles if he played it safe and flew cautiously. But that wasn't enough, because taking it easy simply wasn't an option. The competition was fierce, and only four people would be selected for the Seeker position he was aiming for.

Wow!

Amazing!

Harry!

Harry!

The voices were full of praise, even a little hysterical, filling the air. The atmosphere at the scene had reached its peak, with Gryffindor's cheers louder than anyone else's, echoing everywhere. With every turn Harry took, the crowd grew more and more excited.

This was genuine appreciation for talent, because no one had expected him, a first-year—someone supposedly with zero flying experience before coming to Hogwarts just two weeks ago—to fly as impressively as the seasoned players from the senior grades.

To top it all off, this was Harry Potter, the savior, the Boy Who Lived. Seeing him display such remarkable skills captured everyone's attention, even from the rival houses, more than any other contestant had before him.

Maverick had even halted the contestants scheduled after Harry from flying until he finished, simply because of the way Harry had taken off too fast for the boy's level. The last thing he wanted was to put the savior in danger, and he wanted to be fully concentrated during his entire run.

And true to his thoughts, Harry flew fast, nearly pushing the limits of the broom he'd been given, but surprisingly controlled, with the finesse of experienced players like Flint and Oliver. It wasn't quite at their level, but it was definitely better than most, even surpassing the Weasley twins, who had finished the trials earlier.

The twins, who presumably had the chance to practice flying all the time at home and had been flying since they were children, didn't even come close to the skill Harry was displaying at this moment.

"This kid is eleven years old?"

Watching the impressive maneuvers, the veteran Quidditch legend was also taken aback and couldn't help but voice his doubt.

Standing beside him, Maverick smiled and shrugged before glancing at McGonagall to respond.

"Yes. Mr. Potter is a first-year." Sensing the gaze and hearing Steven's comment, she spoke clearly, addressing everything. "In fact, he's never flown a broom in his life until a week ago. Perhaps three or four days of practice in the last two weeks, but that's all."

Steven turned his head sharply before asking again, "You mean the kid has never flown in his entire life up until a few days ago...?" It was clear he was finding it hard to believe. After all, this kind of talent was nothing short of monstrous—he himself couldn't claim to be that good at that age.

"It should be true," Maverick chimed in, adding more details. "To be honest, the boy should be new to everything magical until recently. This is..." He paused, then added with a smile, "This is just raw talent. Worthy of being the Chosen One..."

"The Chosen what?" Steven asked, confused, tilting his head. He then saw McGonagall raise a brow at his friend and remark, "I didn't take you for one to believe in such things, Professor Caesar..."

Maverick shrugged, smiling amusedly as he saw them all growing serious. "You have to admit, he's exceptionally gifted. I don't care much about prophecies, but he's definitely got the talent to rival that maniac Riddle—"

Cough. "Professor, anyways, please concentrate... Potter's about to reach the last five rings," McGonagall quickly steered the conversation away from the taboo subject.

Madam Hooch and Healer Pomfrey adopted thoughtful expressions listening to the conversation. But they knew better than to talk more about it, especially after seeing their deputy dean's knowing look.

As for Steven, he seemed even more confused now, but he knew how to read the room and when to press further—or not.

At this time, Harry had just passed through the 27th hoop, which was positioned the highest from the ground. The 28th hoop was to the left, and Harry made a sharp turn immediately after passing through, using his body's weight while gripping the broom even more tightly to avoid being thrown off by the momentum.

You must know that the entire trial, from start to finish, took over ten minutes, even for Flint, who finished the fastest. All that time, gripping tightly without giving your hands a break could strain them to the point where it would start to feel like a burn. And Harry Potter was not a physically fit boy, so for him to keep going nonstop like that could only be attributed to the boy's sheer willpower.

The cheers from the young wizards did not stop; instead, they grew louder and louder. Up until now, apart from Flint, only Harry had managed to pass with the fewest hoops turning red.

Ronald Weasley, Harry's best friend, had already started to lose his voice from all the shouting and cheering. It was clear he was genuinely rooting for him.

His own trial, however, had been a disaster—one of the few who had fallen off their broom after trying to bite off more than he could chew by attempting sharp turns like the senior students.

Fortunately, Maverick, Steven, and McGonagall had acted quickly. Those who lost their grip on their broom were either caught mid-air by Steven or safely lowered to the ground with a Levitation Charm by McGonagall and Maverick, preventing any accidents.

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Just then, a collective gasp rippled through the crowd.

At this moment, Harry was seated on his broom, the whistling wind rushing past his ears as he moved at high speed, but his expression was anything but good.

He had just passed the 29th hoop and made a sharp dive toward the 30th, which was positioned ten meters below. But the fatigue in his arms and body had long reached its limit. The decisive downward turn, combined with his forward momentum, nearly sent him tumbling off the broom, but at the last moment, he managed to grip the handle tightly and continue his descent.

His vision was already beginning to blur, and his arms felt like they were on fire, but he refused to give up. Just one last hoop to pass through—one last push before he could bring the broom to a stop and finally rest.

His determination remained unshaken despite his body's protests. With sheer willpower, he made it through the final hoop. But just as he was about to slow his rapid descent, his body finally reached its breaking point—his vision went black.

Gasp!

The students' shouts erupted, many screaming in fright.

To pass through the last hoop, one had to dive straight toward the ground. Though Harry had successfully passed with a green light, he had lost his grip on the broom and was now plummeting, his descent accelerated by the momentum of his earlier dive.

There were about fifty meters between the final hoop and the ground. At that height, gravity would bring him down in mere seconds, making the panic coming from the crowd completely justified. Even Professor McGonagall looked visibly scared and had already drawn her wand and pointed it toward Harry.

Steven, on the other hand, knew that the distance was too great and the fall too fast for him to reach in time. Still, he immediately buckled down on his broom, ready to take off in a desperate attempt.

"Potter is falling too fast!"

"Help... Professors, help!"

Amidst the panicked screams and rushed movements, a sudden, deafening Boom! shook the ground.

Maverick had vanished from his spot, leaving behind a small crater where he once stood. A powerful gust of wind, mixed with dust and debris, scattered outward, making his colleagues who stood beside him stumble.

In the blink of an eye, he was already rocketing toward Harry like a human missile.

Just as Harry was about five meters from the ground, Maverick reached him, catching the boy while carefully slowing his momentum to avoid injury from the impact.

With Harry in his grasp, Maverick gradually came to a halt, hovering mid-air. He immediately cast a diagnostic spell, his gaze sweeping over the unconscious boy.

Fortunately, he detected nothing serious—only extreme exhaustion and no serious injuries.

Letting out a quiet sigh of relief, he conjured a ball of water in mid-air, allowing it to fall over both of them, cooling Harry's overheated body. With the boy still in his arms, held in a secure carry, he hovered for a moment before a small smile tugged at his lips as Harry's eyes began to slowly open.

Still floating, Maverick willed a construct of pure magic beneath his feet, forming a stable platform. He gently placed Harry onto it, then guided the floating platform toward where his group stood, heading to show him to Madam Pomfrey.

Maverick himself was an accomplished healer—arguably even better than Pomfrey when it came to diagnostic and healing spells. However, since the others were unaware of this, it was better to let Pomfrey conduct her own examination to reassure them rather than him stating that Harry would recover after a good rest.

"Professor... what just happened..." Harry mumbled, barely able to open his eyes, in a weak, almost inaudible voice.

Maverick let out a small sigh. "That was a dangerous move, Mr. Potter. You should've watched your stamina and not pushed your body beyond its limit. Luckily for you, you nearly managed to survive crashing into the ground at high speed... breaking every bone in your body...."

"W-what..."

His words didn't even register with the already exhausted boy, so Maverick decided not to lecture him himself and instead left that task to McGonagall and Pomfrey later.

As the construct carrying both of them began to move, thunderous applause and cheers erupted from the crowd, directed at both of them while chanting Harry's name even louder than before.

Harry!

Harry!

Harry!

As soon as Maverick landed, Madam Pomfrey rushed to Harry's side, crouching beside him as she pulled out her wand.

With a decisive flick of her wand, the experienced healer cast a diagnostic spell under the worried gazes of McGonagall and the others, and carefully examined the boy's condition before sighing in relief a few seconds later.

She then cast Maverick an appreciative glance before speaking thoughtfully, "Good work, Professor Caesar. The water helped stabilize his heartbeat and lower his rising temperature."

Turning to Harry, she had half a mind to reprimand him for his recklessness. But seeing his half-lidded eyes, barely holding onto consciousness, she swallowed her words. There would be time for scolding later.

She turned back to Maverick, then glanced at McGonagall before stating, "I'll take him to the hospital wing. He needs energy replenishment and proper rest."

McGonagall's expression was still tense as she asked, "Is he alright? Anything serious?"

Pomfrey shook her head. "He's completely exhausted... barely any energy left in him. I doubt he can even properly hear us right now. But nothing serious. He'll be fine after a full day's rest."

McGonagall let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding, and so did several others. Then, her gaze shifted to Maverick, and her eyes softened.

"Thank you, Professor Caesar. You saved my student's life."

Maverick quickly shook his head. "He's my student too, Professor. And besides—" he turned to Steven, who now looked relieved, "I think we've found our reserve Seeker."

Steven blinked before nodding, a small smile tugging at his lips. "I think so. I mean," he glanced at McGonagall before adding hesitantly, "if he can promise not to be reckless with his body... and also improve his physical fitness, then I'd say he's a solid pick even for the full team. But there are a few other good candidates too. We'll see after next week's mock matches."

Maverick didn't argue. The final decision was Steven's to make, and he had no plans to interfere.

As the cheering students slowly began murmuring amongst themselves, Maverick spotted Ron Weasley, Oliver Wood, and Percy Weasley approaching, all looking concerned.

Ron arrived first, panting slightly from running. "Professor... is Harry alright?" His eyes flicked anxiously to Pomfrey, who was still waving her wand over Harry.

She didn't look up as she responded. "Harry Potter is fine. He's just exhausted. I'll take him to the hospital wing so he can rest. You may come if you wish and stay with your friend."

Ron nodded without hesitation, following her as she levitated Harry toward the castle.

Oliver and Percy did not follow, and after being reassured that Harry would be alright, they returned to the crowd.

Meanwhile, the teachers and Steven prepared to continue the trials. They still had a couple of hours left before the designated time to end for the day, and there were plenty of students waiting for their turn to showcase their skills.

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Author's Note:

Just a quick update — up to Chapter 118 is already available on P AT r30n!

PAT r30n [.] com / RyanFic