~ 💎 WEEKLY POWER GOALS 💎🔥 60→1ch | 100→2ch | 200→5ch ⏰ Resets Monday! Thanks!
The stands were packed. A sea of noise. Hufflepuff students were handing out small yellow flags, while most Gryffindors wore red accessories. Even Percy had a red rose pinned to his chest. Anthony followed Professor McGonagall across the pitch, heading straight for the commentator's booth.
"I must monitor the commentary," Professor McGonagall muttered low to Anthony.
Lee Jordan was already seated behind the booth's microphone. He grinned at them.
"Perfect weather for a match, isn't it?"
Anthony smiled and nodded back. He remembered Jordan was a good friend of the Weasley twins.
Professor McGonagall settled into the seat beside the booth, removed her hat, and gestured for Anthony to sit next to her.
"Thank you, Minerva," Anthony said, looking around with fresh curiosity.
The slightly worn table held a magical microphone and a small telescope, its knobs looking well-used. Lee Jordan picked up the mic, tossing it casually from hand to hand as he peered down towards the Gryffindor changing rooms.
Anthony looked down. Their view was unobstructed. The oval Quidditch pitch and the packed stands spread out before them. At eye level, the goal posts gleamed gold in the sunlight. Madam Hooch was circling them now, performing final checks. Across the pitch, in the stands, sat Umbridge. She was with Snape amidst the Slytherin students, clutching her infuriating clipboard.
Professor McGonagall noticed his gaze. "Yes. A highly anticipated match."
"They're definitely invested," Lee Jordan said. "If we lose—" He caught McGonagall's expression. "Which won't happen, obviously. I mean, if we win, Slytherin might not get the Quidditch Cup. They've been itching to snatch it from Professor Flitwick's office."
McGonagall didn't get a chance to reply. A deafening roar erupted from the stands. Anthony leaned forward. The Gryffindor team in red and the Hufflepuff team in yellow were emerging from their changing rooms, brooms in hand. Madam Hooch stood in the center of the pitch. She opened the chest and released the balls one by one. Anthony saw Wood in the distance, one hand on the shoulder of either Fred or George, his head bent close to the twins, likely emphasizing some last-minute strategy.
Lee Jordan snatched up the microphone. "Ladies and gentlemen! Welcome to the fourth Quidditch match of the school year! Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff!"
A flash of gold. The Snitch was released. The stands roared. It glittered once in the sun and vanished.
Both teams approached Madam Hooch. Surrounded by his teammates, Harry did look exceptionally small. Anthony followed Harry's glance back into the crowd and spotted Hagrid—unmistakable—with Ron, Hermione, and Neville beside him. They were all clapping and cheering for the Gryffindor team.
"Match about to begin! I'm your commentator, Lee Jordan!" Jordan announced. "Captains shake hands—Madam Hooch reiterates the rules—" A whistle blew. "AND THEY'RE OFF!"
Everyone mounted their brooms and shot into the air. Harry flew higher than the rest, while Cedric circled slightly below, searching for the Snitch.
"Hufflepuff Chasers take possession right from the start—Gryffindor closing in tight—nice pass, Quaffle still with Hufflepuff—Excellent save, Wood! Gryffindor holds the goal! Fly, Johnson, fly—Gryffindor has the Quaffle! Watch out, Bludger!"
Angelina's broom swerved. Hard. A Bludger whistled past her ear.
"I'm fine!" she yelled, streaking past the commentator's booth with the Quaffle, heading for the Hufflepuff hoops.
Lee Jordan shouted, "Push, lads! Weasleys, what are those Beater's bats for?—Angelina Johnson with a reverse pass, beautiful—oh no, Hufflepuff intercepts! Fantastic coordination there—clear path ahead, he's making a break for it—catch him, Spinnet—"
Before Anthony could fully process it, the Hufflepuff Chaser suddenly jerked sideways, his broom stuttering. Alicia Spinnet surged past him, snatching the Quaffle in a sharp move.
"What a Bludger hit!" Lee Jordan crowed. "Right on target!"
One of the Weasley twins swooped down from above, halting near the booth. "Beater's bat's right here, mate." He raised his bat at Jordan, squinted at an oncoming Bludger, and smashed it towards a Hufflepuff player trying to block Alicia.
"Another Bludger incoming—blocked!—Alicia Spinnet passes, she only became a regular last year and she's already holding her own—passes to Johnson—SCORES! Keeper missed it! Ten points to Gryffindor!"
The stadium erupted. A faint smile touched Professor McGonagall's tense face. She applauded, dignified.
Wood shouted from across the pitch to the twin near the booth. "What are you doing down there, Fred? Get airborne! Watch Harry!"
"I'm George," muttered the redhead in front of Anthony. He tugged his broom and soared towards Wood. "No rogue Bludgers, Oliver! No rogue brooms!"
Wood yelled back, "It's early yet!"
Angelina, tailing a Hufflepuff Chaser closely around the pitch, chimed in. "What if there's a rogue Snitch?"
"What?" Fred swooped down from above, batting a Bludger away from Angelina. "A Snitch that chases people?"
Cedric cut in smoothly. "I'd pay to see that." He executed a neat loop, avoiding a Bludger aimed his way.
"Bugger off!" Fred shot at him, sending another Bludger his direction.
Cedric just grinned and zipped away.
…
A solid hour passed. No Snitch. No rogue Snitch. Several times, Harry and Cedric dove from above, sending a wave of anticipation through the crowd, only for it to be a false alarm—they just wanted to talk to their teammates.
Anthony was starting to feel the tedium, but Jordan beside him remained a fountain of passionate commentary.
"Gryffindor and Hufflepuff at sixty-seventy, neck and neck, it all comes down to the Seekers now—Gryffindor has the Quaffle, it's Chaser Katie Bell, she's sandwiched between two Hufflepuff Chasers—oof, a third Chaser heads straight for her, classic Parkin's Pincer formation—she tries to pass—oh, a feint! Didn't fool them, she's still in trouble—Weasley sends a Bludger—misses!—Bell tries to pass to Johnson—bad luck, intercepted! Hufflepuff takes the Quaffle!"
A small cheer rose from the Hufflepuff stands, yellow flags waving, but it died quickly into tense silence.
"Pass—beautiful teamwork, streaking towards the Gryffindor hoops—Wood hovering—Bludger incoming, no use, Hufflepuff Beaters have a tight defense—OH! Potter's diving again—Diggory's right on his tail, Merlin, they must've seen something—Hufflepuff scores, but who cares about that—sorry, Professor McGonagall—Gryffindor sixty, Hufflepuff eighty—Potter in a flat-out sprint, brilliant roll, avoids the Quaffle—Diggory right behind him—they're like two arrows—POTTER'S GOT THE SNITCH!"
The stands erupted. Madam Hooch blew her whistle hard, looking immensely pleased with the match.
Lee Jordan shouted over the din. "GRYFFINDOR GETS THE SNITCH! MATCH OVER! GRYFFINDOR TWO HUNDRED AND TEN, HUFFLEPUFF EIGHTY! GRYFFINDOR WINS! Congratulations to Gryffindor! The Snitch was caught by Gryffindor's Seeker, Harry Potter! Potter joined the team as an exception in his first year and has now secured five victories for Gryffindor!"
Harry, still clutching the Snitch high, spiraled down to the ground. His teammates landed around him and immediately engulfed him in a hug.
Wood, beaming, dragged the Weasley twins off their brooms, thumping their backs so hard they both nearly tripped over their broomsticks. Only when someone pointed it out did he notice Madam Hooch calling him. He ran over, still grinning, to shake hands with the Hufflepuff captain.
Hagrid stood in the cheering crowd, clapping thunderously. Ron, Neville, Seamus, and Dean were celebrating animatedly. Hermione shoved a book into her bag before turning to applaud and cheer wildly, joining her friends' joy.
Ravenclaw and Slytherin spectators began filing slowly from the stands. Hufflepuff students stood too, leaving in an orderly stream, pausing to offer words of encouragement to their sweat-drenched players.
Professor Sprout pushed through the crowd towards them. "Congratulations, Minerva! A brilliant match!"
Professor McGonagall said, "Hufflepuff played splendidly as well."
"I know. We did our best," Professor Sprout said, beaming. "I'm also glad Dolores didn't interfere. I must thank Severus."
Anthony glanced across the pitch. Snape was already gone. He spotted his retreating figure on the path leading back to the castle.
Snape was walking towards Hogwarts. Even from this distance, his expression was terrible. Hard to say if it was due to Gryffindor's win or the company of Umbridge beside him. They were followed by a few Slytherins—prefects, Anthony vaguely recalled, and therefore Inquisitorial Squad members—gesturing and talking animatedly.
Professor McGonagall said, slightly surprised, "He agreed to help you?"
Professor Sprout looked even more surprised. "He didn't agree to help you?"
Professor McGonagall said loftily, "I believe Gryffindor's prowess is not threatened by underhanded tactics. No, I had no interest in asking Severus for favors."
Professor Sprout laughed. "Well, I did. I told him if he could keep Dolores quiet in the stands and away from the match, he'd get the best of this batch of Mandrakes once they matured. And if he refused, he could forget about getting any more Fluxweed, Snargaluff pods, or biscuits from me."
Anthony said, "I'd call that a threat."
"A severe one," Professor McGonagall agreed. "Sounds like you've baked again, Pomona?"
"Indeed. So, the greenhouses?" Professor Sprout suggested. "We could fetch Filius. He should be putting the finishing touches on that menagerie project."
Professor McGonagall nodded. "That sounds pleasant."
They began making their way down from the stands, still chatting. Just then, a jarring shout cut through the celebratory noise. Both Professors Sprout and McGonagall stopped.
Anthony looked towards the commotion. He saw a familiar scene.
Red and green clashed together. Gryffindors and Slytherins were fighting.
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