As the match continued, their commentary flowed naturally, a mix of admiration, concern, and playful banter. They gasped, cheered, and sometimes even closed their eyes when the action got too intense, especially during the nail-biting moments when Harry narrowly avoided collisions.

At one particularly tense moment, when Harry executed a particularly daring move to evade a Bludger, Tracey couldn't help but exclaim, "Is he trying to give us heart attacks? Because it's working!"

Hannah, clutching the edge of her seat, added, "I swear, if Harry pulls off another one of those death-defying dives, I'm going to need a calming potion. How does he even spot the Snitch from that distance?"

Susan, her hands pressed together nervously, chimed in, "It's incredible, isn't it? The way he maneuvers through the air—it's like he's part of it. But honestly, every time he speeds up, I have to remind myself to breathe. Do you think he practices flying in his dreams?"

Daphne laughed, the tension momentarily broken. "At this rate, we'll all need a trip to Madam Pomfrey. But honestly, watching him fly... it's magical, in every sense of the word."

When the opposing Seeker, a determined Gryffindor, finally noticed the Snitch and made a beeline for it, Harry was ready. With a burst of speed, he intercepted, his broom weaving through the air with precision. The crowd held its breath as Harry and the Gryffindor Seeker raced neck and neck, the Snitch fluttering just out of reach.

Then, in a move that would be talked about for years to come, Harry executed a daring dive, pulling up at the last possible second to snatch the Snitch from the air, mere inches from the ground.

The stadium erupted into cheers as the Slytherin team swarmed Harry, celebrating the thrilling victory. With a swift move that mirrored his in-game agility, Harry escaped their joyful barricade and made his way to the VIP room to meet his aunt and friends.

"You were flying like you had wings, Harry," Petunia said, her voice carrying a mix of pride and awe.

Nigel, in a tone that was a blend of amusement and mock disbelief, quipped, "Well, I never thought I'd see the day when Aunt Petunia would cheer for a sport that involves flying on broomsticks. What's next, taking up Quidditch herself?"

Ignoring Nigel's commentary, Harry turned to Neville and others, who were all beaming with pride. "That was a close one, wasn't it?" he remarked casually, as if he hadn't just performed a series of heart-stopping maneuvers that had the entire stadium on edge.

Tracey, still buzzing with excitement, replied, "Close? Harry, you were spectacular! I thought my heart would burst out of my chest with that last dive!"

Daphne added, "You have a way of making the impossible look easy. It's infuriating and impressive all at once."

Neville, usually reserved, couldn't hide his admiration. "You've got some serious skills, Harry. That Snitch didn't stand a chance."

As they shared a laugh, Harry's gaze drifted to Hannah and Susan, who were discussing the game with animated gestures. Susan, catching Harry's eye, gave him a thumbs-up, still seemingly in awe of the day's events.

Petunia, noticing the camaraderie among the students, felt a pang of realization about the world Harry belonged to. It was a world of excitement, danger, and boundless possibilities. She turned to Harry, her expression softening. "I'm glad you have friends who share in your adventures, Harry. It makes me worry less, knowing you're not alone in all this."

Harry, touched by her words, replied, "I'm glad too, Aunt Petunia. They make Hogwarts feel like home."

The conversation flowed effortlessly as they discussed highlights from the game, the near-misses, and Harry's incredible catch. The atmosphere was light and full of laughter, a stark contrast to the tension that had filled the stadium just hours before.

After the exhilarating Quidditch match, Harry, with a mix of mischief and excitement, decided to give his Aunt Petunia a secret tour of Hogwarts. Ensuring they were both well-hidden under the Invisibility Cloak, they navigated the castle's corridors, heading towards a destination known to few students and even fewer visitors—the Hogwarts kitchens.

Petunia, initially hesitant, found herself captivated by the enchanting castle, its walls echoing with centuries of magical history. As they descended the steps towards the kitchens, the air filled with the rich aromas of cooking and baking, a comforting reminder of home, albeit a much more enchanted version.

Upon their entry, the kitchens burst into a flurry of activity, with house elves bustling about, preparing meals with a level of efficiency Petunia could only dream of achieving in her own kitchen. The sight was both astonishing and slightly overwhelming, the magic of it all unfolding before her eyes.

It wasn't long before Tweak, the Slytherin House Elf, noticed Harry's presence. With a bounce of excitement, Tweak hurried over, exclaiming, "Lord Potter! What a great surprise. Tweak be honored to see you here!"

Harry, amused by Tweak's enthusiasm, responded, "Hello, Tweak. I hope we're not interrupting. I wanted to show my Aunt Petunia here what real magical cooking looks like."

Tweak, ever so eager to please, nodded vigorously. "No, no! Tweak be happy to show Lord Potter and guest around. Hogwarts kitchens be always open for Lord Potter!"

Harry smiled then asked, "Can we trouble you for a bit of that famous Hogwarts hospitality?"

Tweak, practically beaming, nodded eagerly. "Of course, Lord Potter! Tweak be happy to serve. Please, be follow Tweak."

As they settled on a table at the side, Tweak and a few other house elves quickly arranged a variety of dishes in front of them. The spread was magnificent, showcasing the best of Hogwarts' culinary magic. From steaming pies to enchanted pastries that seemed to change flavors with every bite, Petunia was in awe. Even the vegetables, which Harry had never seen her eat with much enthusiasm, looked inviting.

Petunia, taking in the bustling kitchen and the table laden with food, turned to Harry with a smile. "This is quite something, Harry. I've never seen anything like it," she admitted, her eyes wide with wonder.

Harry chuckled, picking up a magically refilling glass of pumpkin juice. "Wait until you try the food. It's even better than it looks."

They began to eat, and Petunia seemed pleasantly surprised with every dish she tried. "These cooks must be magicians themselves," she joked, earning a laugh from Harry.

Nigel's voice chimed in, his tone dripping with sarcasm, "Well, they do say the way to a person's heart is through their stomach. Hogwarts must be aiming for undying loyalty with meals like these."

Just as they were discussing the peculiarities of a dessert that seemed to sing softly to itself, the door to the kitchens swung open. In walked Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling behind his half-moon glasses, as if he'd stumbled upon the place by accident. His gaze landed on Harry and Petunia, and he feigned surprise.

"Harry, Mrs. Dursley, what a delightful surprise to find you here," Dumbledore exclaimed, though his tone suggested he knew exactly what he would find.

Harry, a bit irked by the mistake and out of habit, corrected Dumbledore, though he knew it wasn't the wisest move, "It's Ms. Evans, Headmaster." Immediately, he mentally kicked himself, "Brilliant, Harry. Just brilliant."

Dumbledore, with his ever-present twinkle, didn't miss a beat. "Oh, my apologies, Ms. Evans. I wasn't aware of the change. I hope all is well?" he inquired, his voice gentle yet probing.

Harry nodded, maintaining a nonchalant demeanor, as if sneaking Aunt Petunia into Hogwarts was an everyday occurrence. "Thank you for your concern, Headmaster. We were just enjoying the culinary delights of Hogwarts," he said, deliberately steering the conversation away from the implications of their rule-breaking adventure.

Dumbledore, with a knowing smile, didn't press the issue directly. Instead, he remarked, "Ah, the Hogwarts kitchens are indeed renowned for their delights. It's always fascinating to see what culinary wonders they come up with for the feast." His tone was light, almost playful, yet there was a subtle undercurrent that suggested he was fully aware of the situation's irregularity.