The celebration in the locker room lasted nearly half an hour before the noise gradually subsided. When Flint announced a party in the common room at seven o'clock, the players dispersed in twos and threes, sweaty and still buzzing, making their way back up to the castle.
Henry was the last to leave. He changed back into his usual dark green robes, stored his Nimbus 2000 carefully, and walked out into the evening alone.
Dusk was settling over the grounds, and the wind had sharpened since the morning.
The stands were empty now, with only a handful of house-elves moving quietly through the rows, collecting scattered ribbons and food wrappers.
He walked slowly along the path toward the castle, his footsteps crunching across the frost-hardened ground.
"Your Highness Henry."
The voice was soft and came from his left. He stopped and turned.
Cho Chang was standing beneath a beech tree at the edge of the path, its branches half-bare in the November cold.
She wore a Ravenclaw blue scarf, her cheeks flushed by the wind, and held a small wicker basket in both hands.
"Miss Chang," Henry said, genuinely surprised. "You didn't go back to the castle? It's very cold out."
"I wanted to wait for you." She stepped forward and extended the basket toward him. "Today's match was remarkable, the rescue, and the catch at the end. My grandmother always said that Eastern culture holds both virtue and talent in equal esteem, and today I saw both." She paused. "This is osmanthus honey and Longjing tea from my mother, and there are some Chinese pastries inside as well. Perhaps they can be added to the celebration tonight."
Henry took the basket. The rattan was cool against his fingers, but the faint, sweet scent of osmanthus and tea drifted up immediately.
"Thank you, Miss Chang. This is a very thoughtful gift," he said warmly. "A great deal happened today that I did not plan for."
"The unplanned moments are what reveal the measure of a person," Cho Chang said, with a small, genuine smile. "Congratulations again, Your Highness. I should go back now."
She turned and walked away, her blue scarf tracing a soft arc in the wind.
Henry carried the basket the rest of the way to the entrance hall, where he was met almost immediately by a wave of noise and motion.
"He's here! The Seeker is back!"
Draco arrived at the front of a considerable group that included Crabbe, Goyle, Pansy, Daphne, and a sizable portion of the Slytherin student body, all of them converging on Henry in a way that had rather more in common with a triumphant welcome than an ordinary greeting.
"Did you hear what Lee Jordan shouted at the end?" Draco's face was alight with the particular joy of someone whose side has won. "'Wales caught the Golden Snitch!' The whole stadium was chanting your name! Even the Gryffindors had to go quiet!"
Pansy pressed through to the front, eyes shining. "That prediction at the finish, how did you know the Snitch would bounce upward?"
"Observation," Henry said simply. He lifted the basket slightly. "Miss Cho Chang from Ravenclaw sent some refreshments for the celebration. We can add them to the table tonight."
"Cho Chang?" Daphne took the basket and examined it with gentle curiosity. "That was very thoughtful of her."
"Never mind that!" Draco seized Henry's arm and began steering him purposefully toward the dungeons. "The party is about to start! Flint said the kitchens are sending a proper spread, and there's Butterbeer from Hogsmeade!"
The Slytherin common room had been transformed. Dark green flags covered the walls and ceiling, and silver serpent decorations glinted in the firelight.
The long tables had been arranged into a wide U-shape and loaded with food: roast chicken, steak, meat pies, a mountainous pile of chips, five varieties of pudding, self-colour-changing jelly, and row upon row of Butterbeer.
Almost every Slytherin from first year to seventh was present. Even Theodore, who almost never emerged from his corner, was sitting in an armchair near the fireplace with a Butterbeer in hand, watching the room with his quiet, attentive expression.
Flint climbed onto a table, tapped his brass cup with a spoon, and waited for the room to settle.
"Today," he said, his voice rough with excitement, "we proved exactly who the strongest team at Hogwarts is. We didn't just win. We won well."
The room erupted again.
Winning this match did not settle the championship, but it settled something that mattered to Slytherin on a different level entirely.
Losing to Hufflepuff was bearable. Losing to Ravenclaw was bearable. Losing to Gryffindor was a separate category of unacceptable.
"And a great deal of what happened today," Flint said, pointing across the room to Henry, "is because of our Seeker, Henry Wales. A first-year substitute, brought on when Higgs was injured, who held his nerve, completed his defensive assignment, and caught the Snitch in the final moments." He paused, appearing to weigh his words. "His conduct during the match was equally worthy of note."
It was very Slytherin, acknowledging the rescue without naming it as kindness, framing it as conduct rather than compassion, allowing it to be respected without requiring anyone to call it a virtue.
"To Wales!" Flint raised his cup.
"To Wales!" the entire room answered.
Draco was grinning so broadly it was difficult to make out his usual composure underneath.
Henry raised his Butterbeer, tilting it toward those around him. The drink was warm, creamy, and faintly caramelised. It was, genuinely, quite good.
The party settled into full motion. The older students gathered to dissect the tactical details; the younger ones reenacted the afternoon's highlights with increasing dramatic licence.
Draco appointed himself the official chronicler of the Snitch catch and described it to every willing audience he could find, the account growing more elaborate with each retelling.
Henry moved through it all with ease, receiving toasts and congratulations from his teammates without excessive modesty and without arrogance.
When the rescue came up, he said simply that the match mattered, but a student's safety mattered more, and that the professors would agree.
The framing was tidy, it connected what he had done to the school's own stated values, leaving anyone who might have questioned helping a Gryffindor with no obvious angle to press.
When the most enthusiastic wave of attention had passed and he found a moment on the sofa, he opened his system panel.
[Current Influence Range: Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry]
[Influence Level: Emerging (5/1000)]
[Available Influence Points: 5]
[Influence Sources:]
Slytherin House: +51/week
Hufflepuff House: +6/week
Gryffindor House: +6/week
Ravenclaw House: +2/week
Professor Attention: +3/week
[Current Weekly Income: 68 points (settled every Sunday at 23:59)]
[Influence Shop (Unlocked, requires Influence Level 5)]
He looked at the numbers for a moment.
The increase was considerably larger than he had anticipated. It appeared that Quidditch had been the right investment after all, at least where measurable returns were concerned.