He still remembers the way it first felt in his hand, even after so many years. He remembers the way the Snitch's flitting wings ruffled against his palm; a dying moth trapped in the grasp of a human. Although he knew that magic was, in fact, what was causing the Snitch to behave in this way, he couldn't help but feel as if it were alive.
It seemed to breathe in shallow gasps for every flick of its mechanical wings. He could feel its rapid heartbeat against his flesh, gradually falling behind as the roar of the crowd began to rise.
And with that Harry Potter, a wizard in a world in which anomalies are the norm, experienced—for the first time— a different kind of magic.