This was the first Quidditch match held since the Triwizard Tournament, a face-off between Gryffindor and Slytherin. After a year-long hiatus, both students and professors from the two houses were secretly determined to see their side triumph. Outwardly, Snape and McGonagall maintained a facade of calm confidence, showing no signs of worry.
Behind the scenes, however, McGonagall had excused Gryffindor students from homework for an entire week, while Snape ensured Slytherin had exclusive use of the Quidditch pitch every day. Players from Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw often came to watch their training. The entire school seemed unusually invested in this long-anticipated match.
"If Gryffindor loses this time, I wouldn't be surprised at all," Lillian remarked during lunch in the Great Hall the day before the match. She was casually discussing Slytherin's training progress with Malfoy. "They've got a new Keeper, and with Ron Weasley's usual performance, his in-game reactions are worrisome at best."
Pansy Parkinson, seated beside Malfoy, let out a mocking laugh. "You're absolutely right, Miss Lillian. Choosing Ron as their Keeper is a fatal mistake. I've watched their practices—he barely stops any shots even then. Imagine what'll happen in a real match. And I hear our team's Warrington has vowed to personally knock him off his broom on Saturday."
"Warrington?" Loki's voice rang out from the entrance as Augustus and his companions entered the hall.
"With his aim," Loki continued with a smirk, "if he misses Ron and hits someone nearby instead, Weasley should be the one worried."
Pansy's laughter faded as she grew visibly uneasy, standing to greet Augustus.
With a small gesture, Augustus signaled her to sit back down, then turned to Malfoy. "Draco, tomorrow's match against Gryffindor is the first since Quidditch has been reinstated this school year. The school is watching closely. No matter the outcome, see to it that no underhanded tactics are used."
Malfoy flushed slightly but, sensing Augustus's seriousness, solemnly promised to follow the rules.
October ended in storms, and November arrived with icy winds. Each morning, a layer of frost blanketed the grounds, and the biting chill stung faces and hands alike. The skies turned a pale bluish-gray, and the mountains surrounding Hogwarts donned snowy peaks. Inside the castle, the temperature plummeted further. Between classes, students bundled up in thick dragon-hide gloves as they traversed the drafty corridors.
On the morning of the match, the weather was clear but freezing.
The stands were packed with a sea of excited spectators. Cheers and songs echoed across the pitch as the two teams emerged, each receiving thunderous applause.
The Slytherin players stood on the field, wearing silver badges shaped like crowns. The new captain, Montague, was as broad as Dudley Dursley, his thick, hairy arms resembling hams. Behind him were the equally hulking Crabbe and Goyle, who squinted stupidly in the sunlight, clutching their new Beater's bats. Malfoy stood to one side, his pale blond hair gleaming in the light. Spotting Harry, he smirked and tapped the silver badge on his chest, radiating smugness.
"This match lineup is certainly... unique," Lillian observed from the stands, her tone tinged with amusement as she surveyed the players on the pitch. "Slytherin has Crabbe and Goyle as Beaters, and Gryffindor has Ron as Keeper. It's shaping up to be quite the spectacle."
Augustus frowned slightly, his gaze fixed on the broom-clutching Crabbe and Goyle.
"Captains, shake hands," called Madam Hooch. Angelina Johnson and Montague stepped forward. Harry could see Montague trying to crush Angelina's fingers in his grip, but she held her ground.
"Mount your brooms!"
Madam Hooch blew her whistle, and the game began with all fourteen players soaring into the air.
"Johnson! Johnson grabs the Quaffle!" Lee Jordan's commentary echoed through the stands. "She dodges Warrington, slips past Montague—ouch!—hit by a Bludger from Crabbe. Montague takes the Quaffle, speeding back towards the Gryffindor goal. Weasley's twin, George, smashes a Bludger straight at Montague's head! Montague drops the Quaffle, and Katie Bell swoops in to recover it. She passes it to Alicia Spinnet, who's lining up for a shot—"
"In terms of overall strength and player cohesion, Gryffindor has the edge," Thor remarked, his eyes on the gold-and-red streaks zipping across the pitch.
"Yes," Lillian agreed, analyzing calmly. "Their team has been working together for quite some time. Ron is their only weak point, but as the Keeper, he doesn't have to handle much action. Whether Slytherin can exploit that will decide the match."
"Spinnet dodges Warrington, narrowly avoids a Bludger—what a close call! She passes back to Johnson—what's that the crowd is singing?"
Lee paused to listen. Augustus's face darkened visibly as a chant rose loudly from the Slytherin section, a sea of silver and green.
"Weasley is our King,
He never stops a single thing,
Weasley is our King."
The song grew louder:
"Weasley was born in a bin,
He lets the Quaffle in,
Weasley is our King!"
Lillian stifled a laugh but quickly stopped when she noticed Augustus's increasingly frosty expression.
"Johnson passes back to Angelina!" Lee continued, raising his voice to drown out the singing. Harry's stomach churned as he stole a glance at Ron, the lone figure defending Gryffindor's three hoops, while Warrington flew straight at him.
"Warrington has the Quaffle, charging toward the goal. The Bludgers can't catch him, and it's just him and the Keeper—"
The Slytherin crowd erupted into cheers:
"Weasley is our King!
He never stops a single thing!"
Ron lunged, arms outstretched, but the Quaffle zipped beneath him, through his armpit, and cleanly into the center hoop.
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