Madam Hooch's cracked whistle rang across the stadium.
For a moment, nobody moved.
Then the players looked at one another, mounted their brooms again, and rose into the air.
The match continued.
It should have been absurd.
The pitch had cracked open, a gate had appeared, something had reached through it, the grass had burned black and grown back, and Theodore Snow had stood in the center of all of it as if he were correcting a badly written homework assignment.
Yet Quidditch players were Quidditch players.
If the referee blew the whistle, the Quaffle moved.
If the Quaffle moved, someone chased it.
If someone chased it, the crowd shouted.
That was the law.
Ron stared as the players flew upward again.
"They're actually continuing."
Fred wiped imaginary tears from his eyes. "That is the spirit of sport."
George nodded solemnly. "And poor decision-making."
Ron looked at the cabbage box in his arms.
Half the Chomping Cabbages were exhausted. One was still chewing red sand and looking betrayed by the taste.
"You lot fought cursed sand. They're still flying. I don't know who's madder."
The cabbage burped.
Ron decided not to ask.
In the commentator's area, Lee Jordan had regained his voice.
Unfortunately for Professor McGonagall, he had regained all of it.
"And the match resumes after what experts may later call a minor interruption!"
McGonagall's head turned slowly.
Lee coughed.
"A very serious minor interruption."
Hermione sat beside him, still watching the pitch instead of the players. Her notebook lay open, but her hand had stopped moving. The fire-crab pendant at her chest had cooled, though it still gave off a faint warmth.
Theodore was standing below.
His robe was torn at the sleeve.
There was still blood on one hand.
Hermione did not like that.
Not at all.
But he had told them to keep the crowd steady, and the crowd was steady.
So she stayed where she was.
That was what made it harder.
Running forward was easy.
Trusting someone else to stand in the dangerous place was not.
Harry remained near the player entrance, willow branch hidden beneath his sleeve. His arm ached each time he moved his fingers. He watched the match, but part of his attention stayed on Theodore.
Earlier, he had wanted to rush in.
Now he understood why Theodore had stopped him.
The center of the pitch had not been a place where courage helped.
It had been a place where strength, timing, and terrifying calm were required.
Harry lowered his gaze to the willow branch.
He still had a long way to go.
Theodore stepped off the pitch.
The fresh grass behind him looked ordinary now, except for a faint circular pattern that disappeared whenever one looked at it directly.
Madam Hooch passed by him with her cracked whistle in hand.
"Mr. Snow."
"Yes?"
"If anything else comes out of my pitch, I am ending the match."
Theodore thought for a moment.
"Reasonable."
Madam Hooch stared at him.
"I would appreciate it if that did not sound like a concession."
Then she marched away.
Theodore smiled faintly and returned beneath the stands.
The nine nails had settled.
The Wuzhuang foundation was no longer merely reacting. It had taken the broken Ten Absolute Arrays and pinned their principles into Hogwarts' territory.
The pitch core had become the heartfire.
Golden Light, Falling Soul, Red Water, Earth Fierce, Cold Ice, Flame, Blood Transformation, Red Sand, Wind Roar, and Heaven's Extinction had all left traces.
Not complete inheritances.
Not yet.
But enough.
Enough for the foundation to recognize those methods if they returned.
Enough for Willow Immortal to grow.
Enough for Hogwarts to become a little less like an old castle and a little more like a living Dao field.
Theodore closed his wounded hand.
The pain had faded.
The useful part remained.
Deep beneath Hogwarts, the final trace of the hidden will had fled.
Not toward Voldemort.
Not toward Quirrell.
Toward the place below the lake prison.
That was the real problem.
The match above was almost irrelevant now.
Almost.
Theodore looked up.
A Chaser scored.
The crowd erupted.
Students jumped, laughed, and shouted until the stands shook.
They had been frightened.
They had seen impossible things.
But they were still cheering.
Theodore's expression softened slightly.
No.
Not irrelevant.
This was exactly why the enemy had failed.
The Ten Absolute Arrays had tried to turn a school event into a sacrifice.
Instead, Hogwarts turned it into resistance.
Messy resistance.
Loud resistance.
Ridiculous resistance involving talismans, plants, backup whistles, commentary, phoenix fire, and Chomping Cabbages.
But resistance all the same.
The final minutes of the match passed without another attack.
That made everyone more nervous than if something had exploded.
The players flew faster, eager to end it.
The crowd counted each pass.
Lee Jordan's commentary became increasingly dramatic until McGonagall finally stood behind him with one hand on his shoulder.
His accuracy improved immediately.
Then the Snitch appeared.
A tiny flash of gold near the upper west stand.
Both Seekers saw it.
The stadium rose with them.
Hermione's pendant stayed cool.
Harry's branch did not move.
Ron's cabbages remained asleep.
Theodore glanced beneath the pitch.
The nine nails were stable.
No trick.
No curse.
No hidden hand.
Just Quidditch.
The two Seekers dove.
The guest Seeker was faster.
The Hogwarts Seeker turned sharper.
For three seconds, the entire stadium forgot ancient arrays, Voldemort, lake prisons, and red-black gates.
They only saw two players chasing gold.
The Hogwarts Seeker stretched out his hand.
The Snitch darted left.
The guest Seeker lunged.
His fingers closed first.
Whistle.
The match ended.
For one heartbeat, silence.
Then the stadium exploded.
Not from magic.
From people.
Cheers rolled across the pitch so loudly that even the castle windows trembled. Students shouted themselves hoarse. Fred and George threw something into the air that burst into harmless sparks spelling "WE SURVIVED." McGonagall gave them a look and then, perhaps because everyone had indeed survived, chose not to deduct points.
Ron hugged the cabbage box.
"We survived the match."
Harry smiled tiredly. "The match survived us."
Hermione finally allowed herself to breathe.
Below the stands, Theodore felt the Wuzhuang foundation absorb the last wave of cheering.
This time, the pitch core did not eat it.
Hogwarts did.
The old castle's magic and the new foundation pulsed together once.
A small thing.
But real.
Dumbledore felt it from the high stand.
His eyes brightened behind his spectacles.
For a thousand years, Hogwarts had protected students.
Today, for the first time, the students had helped protect Hogwarts back.
That was worth remembering.
In the Headmaster's office, Quirrell slumped against the bindings.
Voldemort was silent.
Not thinking silent.
Not planning silent.
Wounded silent.
The main anchor was gone. The formation had been stolen. The thing behind it had retreated without him. And worst of all, Theodore Snow had left him alive to understand the loss.
Quirrell's lips moved weakly.
"My Lord…"
"Silence."
The word came slower than before.
Quirrell obeyed.
But deep inside, beneath fear and pain and the Dark Lord's pressure, the small seed Theodore had planted trembled once.
Not courage.
Not rebellion.
Not yet.
Only the memory of one breath without chains.
That was enough to hurt.
After the match, students poured out of the stands in controlled routes.
Filch guarded the west passage like a victorious general.
"Single file! Do not touch the talismans! You, stop trying to peel that off!"
A Ravenclaw first-year jerked his hand back.
Mrs. Norris hissed approvingly.
Professor Sprout collected her "decorative" plants. One of them refused to let go of a railing until she promised it extra compost.
Professor Flitwick repaired charmwork while humming.
Madam Hooch personally counted every broom before allowing anyone to leave.
Hermione, Harry, and Ron finally reached Theodore near the pitch entrance.
Hermione looked at his hand first.
"It was bleeding."
"It stopped."
"That is not an answer."
"It is the relevant part."
Harry looked at the pitch. "Is it over?"
"The tournament is."
Ron groaned. "That means it isn't over."
Theodore smiled.
Ron pointed at him. "I know that smile now. That is the 'something ancient is still waiting' smile."
Hermione turned serious.
"What happened after the core collapsed?"
"The last trace ran."
"Where?"
Theodore looked toward the Black Lake.
The three followed his gaze.
The lake lay calm in the distance, dark under the afternoon light.
Too calm.
Harry's branch gave a faint tremble.
Ron hugged the cabbage box tighter.
Hermione's pendant warmed once.
Theodore said, "Below the lake prison."
Ron stared.
"There is something below the thing below the lake?"
"Yes."
Ron closed his eyes.
"I miss when Quidditch was just dangerous because of Bludgers."
Dumbledore approached from behind them.
"I suspect many of us do, Mr. Weasley."
Ron jumped.
Dumbledore looked toward the lake as well. His expression was gentle, but there was no lightness in his eyes.
"Mr. Snow."
"Yes, Professor?"
"I believe we should speak with our ancient neighbor."
Theodore nodded.
"Tonight."
Hermione immediately said, "We're coming."
"No," Theodore and Dumbledore said at the same time.
Hermione froze.
Ron blinked.
Harry looked between them.
Dumbledore smiled apologetically. "Miss Granger, you have all done more than enough today."
Theodore added, "And what comes next is not a student battlefield."
Hermione wanted to argue.
Then she remembered the gate.
The hand.
The pressure that had made the whole stadium feel small.
She pressed her lips together.
"Then tell us afterward."
Theodore looked at her.
"I will tell you what is useful."
"That is not the same thing."
"No."
Hermione glared.
Theodore smiled.
Dumbledore chuckled softly.
The moment might have continued if the ground had not trembled.
Only once.
A faint vibration from far beneath Hogwarts.
The cheering students did not notice.
Most professors did not notice.
Theodore did.
Dumbledore did.
The Black Lake rippled.
Deep below, the ancient golden eyes opened.
And under that prison, something older shifted in its sleep.
Theodore looked toward the water.
The match was over.
The next game had begun.
◇ BONUS & SUPPORT ◇
◇ 1 bonus chapter for every 10 reviews — drop a comment!
◇ 1 bonus chapter for every 100 Power Stones.
◇ Read 60 chapters ahead on P@treon → patreon.com/StrawHatStudios