Chapter 42 - Chapter 42: First Place in the Match, Second Place in the Match

WEEKLY POWER GOALS 💎🔥 30→2ch | 60→5ch | 100→8ch | 200→15ch | 400→25ch⏰ Resets Monday!

--------------------

Introductions done. Time for the sacred ritual: trash talk.

Across the pitch, a buck-toothed Slytherin player sneered at Wood. "What's wrong, Gryffindor? Run out of bodies? You're fielding first-years?"

Wood glared at the green-and-silver jerseys. "Talk to me after we win."

The Slytherin line erupted in laughter.

"Win? Win?" Buck-tooth cackled. "When's the last time you clowns beat us? Wood, did that Bludger scramble your brain? You're talking nonsense."

Ever since legendary Seeker Charlie Weasley graduated, Gryffindor hadn't touched the trophy.

Wood turned to his team, voice softening. "Don't listen to them. No pressure. Just play your best. Remember—friendship first, competition second. Winning isn't everything."

"HA! Friendship first?" Buck-tooth howled. "That's loser talk! If you're not playing to win, what's the point?"

"Exactly!" another Slytherin chimed in. "Competition first, friendship second!"

Wood opened his mouth to respond—

"You're absolutely right."

Hermione's voice cut through.

Wood blinked. Harry stared at her back.

That's... very Slytherin of you.

Buck-tooth looked genuinely surprised. "Wait, you agree?"

"Of course. But you got one thing wrong."

"What?"

"It's not 'competition first, friendship second.'" Hermione's smile turned glacial. "It's..."

"Competition first. Competition second."

Before anyone could process that, the whistle shrieked. Balls shot skyward.

Game on.

New York. Stark Tower.

"Tony, look! There she is!"

Pepper jabbed a finger at the massive screen, grinning ear to ear.

The feed showed Gryffindor versus Slytherin—live from another dimension.

It had taken days of joint R&D. Hermione and Tony enchanting drones, routing magical signals through the Mysterious Magic Book, bypassing conventional transmission entirely.

Magic broadcast. Not bad for a week's work.

Watching alongside Tony and Pepper? One bald, paranoid spymaster.

Fury wouldn't miss this. To Stark, it was a novelty sport. To him? Intel goldmine.

He watched wizards zip through the air, robes fluttering. Crowds in pointed hats. Every detail real.

The wizarding world wasn't myth. It was operational.

"The Library Witch?"

All three exchanged glances at Lee Jordan's commentary.

Hermione had never mentioned that nickname.

"She reads that much?" Tony muttered.

Pepper tilted her head. "Doesn't seem like the bookworm type. More like... jock energy. Wild child."

They realized something: despite their bond with Hermione, they barely knew her.

"She's popular," Pepper noted, hearing the crowd chant Hermione! Witch! Hermione! "I was worried she'd be lonely at school."

Tony smirked. "Kid's doing fine."

Whistle down. Ten players scattered.

Bodies crisscrossed the sky at breakneck speed. Scarlet-and-gold versus green-and-silver.

Slytherin's Bole and Gryffindor's Angelina—both Chasers—wove through the chaos.

Angelina snagged the Quaffle first. Bolted toward the Slytherin hoops.

Bole accelerated. Pulled alongside her.

She didn't see him coming.

He slammed into her sideways.

Angelina grunted, nearly tumbled off her broom. The Quaffle slipped from her grip.

Alicia swooped in, caught it mid-fall. Resumed the charge.

Then Buck-tooth—Marcus Flint, Slytherin captain—ambushed from the flank. Kicked Alicia square in the stomach.

She spun through the air, barely holding on. The Quaffle dropped again.

"BOOOOO!"

The crowd erupted. Slytherin's dirty plays weren't technically fouls, but they reeked of dishonor.

In the stands, Professor McGonagall clenched her fists, face tight with worry.

Marcus grinned. Who cared about honor? Results mattered.

Good news: someone on the pitch agreed with him.

Bad news: she wore Gryffindor colors. Her name was Hermione.

"Oh, so we're playing road rage now?" Hermione's smile sharpened. "Everyone saw that, right? They started it."

She gunned her broom toward a Slytherin player. Then leapt off mid-flight.

"Rider Kick!"

The Slytherin's eyes went wide. Hermione's boot filled his vision.

CRACK.

Direct hit. Nose shattered. He and his broom rocketed into the stands, unconscious before impact.

Hermione dropped, landed perfectly on her broom below.

Silence.

Then Gryffindor exploded with laughter.

Slytherin roared in protest.

Gryffindor roared back: You started it! And look—her form's better, her aim's cleaner, her results speak for themselves!

"Uh... Slytherin just deployed, uh, shoulder checks and gut kicks... Gryffindor's Witch counters with a spectacular flying kick..." Lee Jordan stammered. "I feel like I'm commentating a martial arts film."

"One down."

Hermione glanced at the crumpled Slytherin. Didn't hesitate.

Locked onto her next target.

~~~~❃❃~~~~~~~~❃❃~~~~

Read up to (50+ ) advanced chapters on Patre\on

Visit us here: patreon.com/DarkGolds

Happy reading, everyone!