Quidditch originated in the eleventh century. Ever since its invention, it had been a highly watched and inspiring team sport in the wizarding world, and by now, it was loved by witches and wizards across the globe.
Skyl had watched several Quidditch matches organized by the school, and to him, it always felt a bit like watching a large-scale acrobatic performance. Witches and wizards on broomsticks chased tiny black specks through the sky, which not only tested the players' individual abilities, but also severely tested the audience's eyesight. So, when conditions allowed, it was best to carry a pair of binoculars.
The whole match could be seen as a personal heroic performance for the Seeker. After all, according to the rules, once the Golden Snitch was caught, the corresponding team received one hundred and fifty points, and the match ended. By comparison, a normal goal was only worth ten points. Such a massive gap often allowed an excellent Seeker to reverse the outcome of a match and decide everything in one decisive move.
Interestingly, in the earliest rules of Quidditch, the position of Seeker did not exist. Its origin could be traced back to a match in 1269, when a member of the upper ranks of the wizarding world brought a magical creature called a Golden Snidget to watch the game and declared that any player who caught the Snidget would receive a reward of one hundred and fifty gold Galleons.
That rule survived and gradually evolved into the core gameplay of modern Quidditch. The magical creature, the Golden Snidget, was replaced by an artificially crafted magical ball, the Golden Snitch, while the one hundred and fifty Galleon reward became one hundred and fifty points.
Perhaps everyone liked seeing individual heroism on the field. It made one's blood boil and filled people with the urge to take that hero's place.
Skyl was not exactly a Quidditch fan, but whenever Gryffindor had a match, he would definitely go and help fill the stands.
The trick to watching a match was choosing a team you liked, then shouting and making noise with everyone else. You cheered for your own players' brilliant moves and lost your mind over the bizarre nonsense happening on the pitch. That way, even if you did not understand the match very well, you could always find something to enjoy.
Before the final, Harry asked Skyl to come watch, and Skyl agreed. As promised, he appeared in the stands.
The Gryffindor students had stretched a long ribbon through the center of the stands to cheer for their players. They waved their wands, making the silk ribbon ripple without any wind, like a bright parade streamer, while every capital letter of the words "LIONS CHARGE" written across it flashed with colorful light.
The day of the match was bright and sunny. Gryffindor was facing Slytherin, and three quarters of the students supported Gryffindor. They waved red flags printed with the lion house crest, and the stands thundered with wave after wave of "Hoo-ha! Hoo-ha!"
Professor McGonagall's stern yet kind smiling face appeared in the front row. She was dressed formally. This witch, who could turn into a cat, had loved Quidditch for many years and could be considered Gryffindor's number one Quidditch fan. With her here to support her own team, even Lee Jordan beside her sounded especially energetic.
As a famously neutral commentator, Lee Jordan's professional ability was first-rate.
"Welcome, students and professors, to the final match of the Hogwarts Quidditch Cup! I am your commentator, Lee Jordan!"
"All right, we can see the Gryffindor players coming onto the pitch. They are Keeper and captain Oliver Wood, young and outstanding Seeker Harry Potter, the flexible and clever Beaters, the Weasley twins, and the powerful Chasers Bell, Johnson, and Spinnet.
"Taking everything into consideration, I can very responsibly tell everyone that this lineup is already Gryffindor's strongest combination in recent years. It is also widely believed that this is the best team Hogwarts has seen in years!"
"On the other side, the Slytherin players are coming onto the pitch too. Wow, I won't lie to everyone, I've seen many Quidditch players, but I've never seen players who only trained their muscles. Are they planning to squeeze their opponents to death with sheer bulk?
"In that case, I should kindly remind them that the Department of Magical Games and Sports has listed more than seven hundred ways to commit Quidditch fouls. I hope they don't do anything unwise, or today's referee, Madam Hooch, might blow her whistle until it breaks!"
Such a perfectly unbiased commentary style immediately drew loud boos from the Slytherin stands.
"Boo!"
Although the Slytherin witches and wizards were united against outsiders, they had clearly lost more than a little momentum. Part of it was because they were outnumbered. More importantly, Slytherin's Head of House was not even there. Without the old bat, whose sinister presence hung over the place like a storm cloud, to hold the field for them, the little snakes could only huddle together for warmth in the vast sea of Hogwarts students.
Harry stood on the sunlit grass and turned to look toward the stands. He saw Skyl, and excitement overflowed across his calm face as he waved hard. He also saw Hermione and Neville. However, he did not see Mr. Jim, nor did he see Sirius or Lupin.
When he looked toward the Slytherin seats across the pitch, he did not see Snape. Looking around again, he did not see Dumbledore.
The Weasley twins patted Harry on the shoulder.
"Cheer up, young man. Who are you looking for?"
"No one." Harry lowered his head and smiled. When he looked up again, his serious expression had returned. He carefully studied his opponents for this match. The Slytherin players were generally tall and broad, except Draco Malfoy, who looked rather thin. Harry's cold gaze made Draco's face turn even paler.
Captain Wood loudly encouraged the players. "Let's take down those snakes and show them who the best team at Hogwarts really is!"
"Gryffindor!" the Chaser Angelina shouted.
"Victory!" the players shouted.
Their cries spread beneath the sky. The stands around them were like a valley, sending back an echo like a tidal wave.
"Hoo, victory!"
In the enthusiastic crowd, Skyl was also smiling as he waved a flag with great energy.
His eyes caught sight of the White Tower on the northern cliff. Beneath the blue sky, it looked like a bright silver pillar. He knew that inside the tower at this very moment, the resurrection ritual was underway.
Skyl's memories drifted slightly, returning to two days ago.
Godric's Hollow.
The last time he had come here was already more than three months ago.
Skyl still remembered this place clearly, though there was no scenery worth longing for. This time, he had come with the witches and wizards who would perform the resurrection ritual to collect the bones of the dead. Dumbledore had personally invited him. The old wizard seemed to have something he wanted to confide, not to Grindelwald, but to the student he trusted most.
And so everyone came. There were eight of them in total.
They arrived at the remote village at dusk.
Today, the old wizard Dumbledore was not wearing his loose, casual sleepwear. Instead, he had changed into very formal robes, as if he were going to attend some important ceremony.
The moment Skyl met up with everyone, he recognized it at a glance. Dumbledore was wearing the white robe Gandalf had given him.
"Professor, why did Gandalf give you this white robe that symbolizes status?"
"He said he had many of them in his wardrobe. He had been collecting them for years and never had a chance to wear them, so when he saw that the size suited me, he gave me one."
Skyl was silent.
Excellent. Truly powerful. That fellow Gandalf had clearly wanted to usurp Saruman's position for a long time, hadn't he?
//Check out my P@tre0n for 30 extra chapters on all my fanfics //[email protected]/Razeil0810.