bacchusnovels Chapter 365 Quidditch Cup
Chapter 365 Quidditch Cup
Chapter 365 Quidditch Cup
Harry was more concerned about the safety of the Firebolt than his own.
After each training session, he would carefully lock the broom back in its box, and during breaks he would often run back to the Gryffindor Tower to make sure it was still safe and sound.
The night before the match, the Gryffindor common room was unusually quiet; all the usual noise had stopped, and even Hermione had put down her books.
"I simply can't concentrate," she said nervously.
The common lounge was unusually lively at the moment.
Fred and George Weasley countered the pressure with double the noise, while Oliver Wood crouched in a corner, staring intently at a model of a Quidditch pitch, directing the little figures around with focused attention, muttering tactics under his breath.
Angelina, Aria, and Katie listened to Fred and George's jokes, bursting into laughter from time to time.
Harry sat in a corner of the room with Ron, Hermione, and Sophia, away from the bustling center, trying not to think about tomorrow's match, because every time he thought about it, he felt a heavy pressure, as if a large stone was stuck in his stomach.
"You'll be fine," Hermione reassured her, though her expression showed the same anxiety.
"You have a fire crossbow!" Ron encouraged him.
"Yeah—." Harry replied softly, but his stomach churned even more.
Just then, Wood stood up and shouted loudly, "All team members, go to sleep now!"
Harry returned to his dormitory, but didn't get a good night's sleep.
First, he dreamed that he had overslept, and Wood roared, "Where have you been? We'll have to use Neville!" Then he dreamed that Malfoy and the Slytherin team came to the competition riding fire dragons, and he was flying rapidly through the air, dodging the flames spewed by Malfoy's mount. Suddenly he realized that he hadn't brought his fire crossbow, and then he fell headfirst from the sky, waking up with a start.
It took Harry a few seconds to come to his senses and realize that the competition hadn't started yet, he was comfortably lying in bed, and there was no way Slytherin would be allowed to ride a dragon in the competition.
He felt parched, so he quietly got up and poured himself some water to drink.
Outside, all was quiet. Not a breath of wind stirred the treetops of the Forbidden Forest, and the willows remained motionless, serene and harmless. It seemed the weather would be perfect for the competition.
Harry put down his water glass and turned to go back to bed when he was suddenly drawn to the view outside the window—it looked like some kind of animal was wandering on the silver lawn.
Harry quickly ran to the bedside table, put on his glasses, and returned to the window.
He stared at the playground, his heart pounding. Could this be some kind of ominous sign?
Just before the competition, at this very moment, he searched anxiously and finally saw a figure at the edge of the Forbidden Forest after a short while—it was just a cat. He breathed a sigh of relief and recognized the fluffy tail. It was Crookshan. Was it just Crookshan?
Is it chasing something?
Harry squinted and pressed his face against the windowpane to continue observing, but he saw nothing.
"Ron!" Harry whispered. "Ron! Wake up!"
"Hmm?" Ron mumbled sleepily.
"I need you to come and see if you can see this!"
"It's pitch black, Harry, what are you up to?" Ron mumbled incoherently, turning over.
"Come here quickly—"
Harry anxiously turned to look out the window.
What about Crook Hill?
A loud snore echoed in the room—Ron had fallen into a deep sleep again.
The next morning, when Harry and Ron woke up, they found Crookshanks sitting gracefully by their bedside, a furry little thing in his mouth.
The two men took a closer look and discovered it was Ron's pet mouse, Spotted.
Just last night during dinner, Banban ran away again... This is the umpteenth time Banban has run away in recent days.
Ron was already used to this.
At first, he felt panicked when Banban went missing.
Later, when this became a "tradition," he stopped caring—because someone would always bring Banban back the day after she disappeared.
For example, Filch, Professor Phillips, and... Crook Hill.
Mr. Filch even thoughtfully devised a "special" system of rewards and punishments.
Whoever catches the escaped Scabbers can be exempted from a day of confinement by "helping to clean the castle".
This made many young wizards, while being confined by Filch, sincerely hope that Scabbers would escape from Ron's pocket and then be "luckily" caught by them.
When this first started happening, he had considered getting Banban a cage.
But if we prepare cages... how will the other young wizards receive their rewards from Filch?
So the matter was eventually dropped.
Was it Banban that was being chased in Crookshan last night?
Harry breathed a sigh of relief.
Ron happily took a crumpled toffee out of his pocket, offered it to Crookshank, and said in a low voice, "Oh, Crookshank, thank you for your help again."
Crookshank narrowed its eyes haughtily, seemingly fully understanding Ron's praise, then gracefully leaped onto the windowsill, its tail held high, looking extremely smug.
Seeing this, Harry couldn't help but laugh and said, "Looks like Crookshanks always knew where Scabbers was."
Ron waved his hand dismissively, "It's a cat, it's normal for it to catch mice."
When Harry finished washing up and joined his Gryffindor teammates as they entered the Great Hall, they were immediately surrounded by enthusiastic applause.
The Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff classmates applauded and cheered them on, and Harry couldn't help but smile.
In stark contrast, the Slytherin students booed as they passed, and Harry noticed Malfoy's expression.
It was paler than usual.
Wood kept urging the team to eat more to maintain their energy, but he himself didn't touch a bite, constantly urging everyone to finish eating quickly so they could go to the stadium early to familiarize themselves with the field.
The Gryffindor students applauded them again, filling the auditorium with support and encouragement.
"Good luck, Harry!" Cho Chang called out. Harry felt a slight smile, and a blush unconsciously rose to his cheeks.
"The weather is nice, no wind, and the sun is a bit glaring. Be careful, the ground is quite hard, this will make takeoff faster—..." Wood paced back and forth on the field, constantly analyzing the field conditions, with the players silently following behind him.
Finally, they saw the castle gates slowly open, and all the students rushed to the lawn.
"Changing room," Wood commanded, and the team members immediately followed him inside.
When they changed into their bright red robes, everyone remained silent.
Harry couldn't help but wonder if everyone else was as nervous as he was, as if a bunch of worms were churning in their stomachs.
In what seemed like the blink of an eye, Wood said in a low voice, "Okay, time's up, let's go." As they walked out of the locker room, they were greeted by deafening shouts from the stands.
Two-thirds of the students in the audience wore bright red roses, waved flags with the Gryffindor lion emblem, and even shouted "Go Gryffindor!"
A banner that read "Lion Takes the Cup!" fluttered in the air.
More than two hundred people had gathered behind the Slytherin goalposts, wearing green ornaments and with silver serpent emblems gleaming on their flags.
Professor Snape, in the first row, also wore green jewelry and wore a gloomy smile.
"Gryffindor is on the field!" Lee Jordan, the commentator, announced loudly. "Potter, Bell, Jason, Spinnet, the Weasley brothers, and Wood! This is widely considered to be the best team Hogwarts has had in years—" The boos from the Slytherin stands immediately drowned out Lee's commentary.
Harry noticed that every member of the Slytherin team was more muscular than usual, with Malfoy being the only exception, looking a size smaller than the others.
"The two captains shake hands!" Ms. Huo Qi announced.
Flint and Wood stepped forward and shook hands tightly, as if they wanted to break each other's fingers.
"Get on your flying broomsticks!" Ms. Hodge then announced, "Three—"
Her whistle was completely drowned out by the cheers of the audience, and fourteen brooms roared into the air.
Harry felt the wind blowing his hair back, and as the broom rose, all the tension was gradually washed away by the excitement of flying.
He spotted Malfoy close behind and immediately sped up, focusing on finding the thief.
"Gryffindor has possession now! Arya Spinnet is heading straight for Slytherin's goal with the Quaffle—yes, Arya!—Oh no, Warrington intercepted! Warrington is making a quick run for Slytherin—Wow!—George Weasley's 'Walking Ball' was brilliant! Warrington lost control, the Quaffle was regained by Angelina Jensen, Gryffindor has possession again! Come on, Angelina—good job, she got past Monta—watch out, the Walking Ball!" Lee's commentary was enthusiastic. "She scored! Gryffindor leads 10-0!"
Angelina glided around one end of the stadium, proudly pumping her fist, and cheers erupted like a tidal wave, turning the red stands into a sea of jubilation.
"Ouch!" Angelina nearly fell off the broom when Marcus Flint bumped into her.
"Sorry!" Flint shouted sarcastically amidst the boos, "I didn't see her!"
A moment later, Fred Weasley took the opportunity to lightly tap Flint on the back of the head with his baseball bat, causing Flint's nose to hit the broom.
Bleeding ceaselessly.
"Enough!" Ms. Hooch shouted sharply, swiftly flying between the two. "Unprovoked attack on a chaser, Gryffindor gets a penalty! Intentional injury to an opposing player, Slytherin also gets a penalty!"
"No, ma'am!" Fred cried out in dissatisfaction, but Ms. Hodge blew her whistle, and Arya flew forward to take the penalty.
"Go, Arya!" Lee's voice boomed loudly in the silence of the stands. "Great! She's broken through the Slytherin goalkeeper! Gryffindor leads twenty-nil!"
Harry turned the Firebolt around and watched as Flint, whose nose was still bleeding, stepped forward to throw the penalty for Slytherin. Wood stood firm in the goal, his eyes fixed on the Quaffle.
"Of course, Wood is a top-class goalkeeper!" Lee Jordan shouted to the crowd while Flint waited for the whistle. "First-rate! Insurmountable—extremely difficult—fantastic! Absolutely incredible! He made the save!"
Harry breathed a sigh of relief and quickly ascended to continue searching for the thief, while keeping a close eye on Lee's explanations.
He absolutely cannot let Malfoy steal the Snitch; he must wait until Gryffindor is more than fifty points ahead.
"Gryffindor's ball control is off, Slytherin has the ball—no! Gryffindor has regained the Quaffle! It's Kitty Bell, Gryffindor's Kitty Bell is flying fast—this is completely intentional!"
Monta of Slytherin suddenly stood in front of Kitty and reached out to grab her hair.
Katie did an aerial somersault on the broom, narrowly maintaining her balance, but the Quaffle was stolen.
Ms. Hooch's whistle blew again, and she flew angrily toward Monta, sternly reprimanding him.
A minute later, Katie scored another penalty for Gryffindor, further widening the score gap.
"Thirty to zero! Learn your lesson, you despicable, shameless bastards—"
"Jordan, if you can't remain neutral—"
"I'm stating the facts, Professor!"
Harry felt a surge of excitement, then suddenly spotted the Golden Snitch—it was gleaming beneath a Gryffindor doorpost! But he couldn't rush over immediately—if Malfoy also saw it, Harry would suddenly pretend to be completely absorbed and turn the Firebolt toward Slytherin.
Sure enough, Malfoy followed closely behind, clearly mistaking Harry for someone else who had discovered the Snitch's location.
Whoosh!
A ball whizzed past Harry's left ear; it was Derek, the tall Slytherin batter, who struck it.
Then another ball flew over and grazed his elbow.
Harry saw Derek and Bool rushing towards him together, bats raised high, trying to sandwich him.
At the last second, Harry yanked the firebolt back, catching the two batters off guard and causing them to collide with a loud bang.
"Ha! Haha!" Lee Jordan shouted excitedly, watching the two Slytherins stagger apart. "Too bad, brothers! You'd better get up earlier if you want to catch Firebolt! Gryffindor has the ball, Jason with the Quaffle—Flint is marking him—poof his eye, Angelina!—Just kidding, Professor, just kidding—oh no—Flint got the ball, Flint is charging toward the Gryffindor goal—watch out, Wood! Stop him—!"
Flint scores, and the Slytherin crowd erupts in cheers.
Lee Jordan's insults were so offensive that Professor McGonagall hurriedly tried to snatch the microphone from his hand.
"Sorry, Professor, sorry! Never again!" Gryffindor still leads, thirty to ten, Gryffindor in control of the ball—the game gradually turned into a most filthy contest. Slytherin, enraged by their early deficit, began to ruthlessly steal the Quaffle.
Boll hit Aria with his bat, but argued that he thought she was a wandering ball.