On Saturday, the Quidditch match was finally about to begin. The first game would pit Slytherin against Ravenclaw.
As the Slytherin team strode into the stadium, loud cheers erupted from the far-right table, as though their supporters were already celebrating a win. Even the players themselves looked relaxed, showing not the slightest hint of pre-match nerves. To them, last season's game against Ravenclaw—where they'd shut them out—had been nothing more than a practice round for the other teams. Winning today seemed inevitable. What could possibly go wrong?
Marcus had even started rehearsing a victory dance with his teammates. He swayed clumsily in the center of the hall, resembling a baboon under the effects of an Elixir to Induce Euphoria.
"Don't let it get to you, Cho," Cedric reassured the girl beside him. "Believe me, you're not weak."
Cho gave him a look but said nothing. She knew Cedric meant well, yet hearing him say things like that always felt a bit off. It was like a straight-A student telling someone who'd flunked a test that they weren't unintelligent—just that the questions had been particularly tough. However well-intentioned, it made her want to punch him.
"To be honest, your Chasers are really just average," Kyle said suddenly. "So the key to this game is you. You have to catch the Golden Snitch before Ravenclaw falls 150 points behind."
"I'll try my best," Cho sighed. She knew it all too well, but the Golden Snitch wasn't like Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans—she couldn't just catch it whenever she felt like it.
"Kyle's right," Cedric nodded. "And there's also the issue of your broom—it's too old. Even if you spot the Snitch first, you'll still be at a disadvantage. If you don't mind, I could lend you my…"
He was cut off by a large group of owls that swooped in, their flapping wings and hoots drowning out the rest of his sentence. Kyle noticed that six long-eared owls were carrying an elongated package, which they deposited right in front of Cho.
"Could it be…" Cho's heart skipped a beat. She reached out, her hand trembling, to touch the package.
"You guessed right—it's a broomstick! I remember those owls; they're the same ones that brought Cedric's broom last time," Kyle said, smiling. "Why don't we open it and have a look?"
"But… I've never bought a broom before," Cho said nervously. "I wanted to get a Nimbus 1700, but I was still a few Galleons short."
"What if it's for someone else? Maybe the owls just made a mistake."
"No way," Kyle shook his head, chuckling. "Owls don't make mistakes that basic."
Just then, another owl flew over, dropping a letter onto the package. Cho anxiously tore it open.
"This is your new broomstick, a Nimbus 2000. Have fun at the match. —Professor Flitwick"
Cho's face lit up as she read the note. She handed it to Kyle, who was already eagerly unwrapping the package. Sure enough, inside lay a gleaming new Nimbus 2000.
Forgetting all about dinner, Cho grabbed the broom and bolted toward the Quidditch Pitch, with the other Ravenclaw team members hurrying after her.
After Cho left, Kyle and Cedric returned to the Hufflepuff table. Kyle looked down at the letter in his hands and shook his head, smiling. It seemed Professor Flitwick had been a bit rattled by the last match, deciding to equip Cho with a new broom to avoid another shutout.
Back at the Hufflepuff table, Kyle handed the letter to Cedric again and asked, "By the way, what were you about to say?"
"Oh, nothing," Cedric replied, shaking his head. He had intended to offer Cho his own broom, but clearly, that was no longer needed.
As he glanced at the letter, his eyes drifted toward the Slytherin table. By now, everyone had noticed Cho's new broomstick, and the Slytherins were no exception. The cheering had stopped, Marcus had quit his dance, and the entire team was looking rather grim.
...
The game had barely begun when excitement filled the air. The stands were packed, with Kyle and Cedric front and center, holding up a banner and cheering loudly for Cho. Slytherin seemed determined to get their score past the crucial 150-point mark and went on the offensive right from the start.
Marcus flew recklessly, ramming into one of Ravenclaw's Chasers and knocking him off his broom. Madam Hooch's whistle blared through the stadium, ruling the play invalid and awarding a penalty to Ravenclaw. Roger Davies, undeterred, remounted his broom and, with a fierce throw, sent the Quaffle straight through Slytherin's goalposts. Instead of gaining the lead, Slytherin had lost ten points, which only seemed to make Marcus angrier.
The match was intense, with both teams scoring back and forth. Despite their goals, Slytherin couldn't build the lead they'd hoped for. After their previous shutout, Ravenclaw had undergone rigorous training, toughening their resolve and significantly boosting their skill. This, combined with Cho's new broom, filled Ravenclaw with hope and determination. Whenever Slytherin scored, Ravenclaw quickly matched, keeping the score close.
Although Slytherin's superior broomsticks gave them a slight edge, they were only 30 points ahead—nowhere near the 150 points they needed. Spectators speculated about the game's outcome, their excitement growing, when Professor McGonagall unexpectedly arrived at the pitch. Amplifying her voice with her wand, she commanded, "The game is suspended. Everyone return to the castle immediately!"
Other professors soon joined her. Many in the stands were confused, but the prefects and professors began guiding everyone away. The Quidditch players hovered uncertainly in mid-air, looking down at the scene below, unsure of what was happening.
"Everyone, without delay, follow the professors and prefects away from the Quidditch Pitch!" Professor McGonagall repeated firmly.
"We were about to win!" Marcus complained bitterly, frustrated by the interruption. He had just managed to score a few more goals, but the scoreboard hadn't registered them.
"If you'd like to remain here indefinitely, that's entirely up to you…" Snape's cold voice cut in as he appeared beside Professor McGonagall.
Marcus looked at Snape and thought better of protesting. He quickly dismounted, his head bowed, and followed the others off the pitch.
The exit passage was enchanted to accommodate any number of people without feeling crowded, and under the professors' guidance, it only took minutes to clear the pitch entirely.
As they made their way back to the castle, they spotted Professor Flitwick on patrol, his wand drawn, carefully scanning the grounds. A tense silence spread through the crowd as the urgency of the situation began to sink in. A sense of unease grew, and many found themselves unconsciously quickening their pace.