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Chapter 553: Quidditch and Intense Emotions
Chapter 553: Quidditch and Intense Emotions
Hermione stood at the entrance of the changing room, constantly peering out. Snowflakes had accumulated in a thick layer on her hat.
She exhaled a puff of cold air, stomping her feet to keep warm.
"I forgot to bring the temperature-regulating pendant... Oh, right, Warming Charm!" She pulled out her wand and pointed it at herself. Instantly, a warm current spread throughout her body, as if she were sitting by the roaring fireplace in the common room. She couldn't help but yawn.
The door to the changing room opened.
Bertie was the first to walk out, looking listless. Then came Fred and George Weasley, their shoulders slumped as if they were heading to a battle they were destined to lose. From the entrance of the common room, Angelina's headache-ridden voice echoed: "Alright, Harry, try to cheer him up. Good luck to us..."
Harry mumbled a response. Then, Angelina emerged with a numb expression, her face even stranger, Hermione thought. Angelina looked like a walking corpse, devoid of life.
Hermione walked in, and Ron was sitting in the corner of the common room. Harry glared at him.
"What's wrong? The match is about to start, and everyone's in a bad mood? Oh, oh, uh—"
Hermione stepped past Harry and saw Ron leaning against a bench, his gaze vacant, his face pale, and his eyes staring blankly at the ceiling.
Harry gave Hermione a meaningful look.
Suddenly, Ron moved, surprising both Harry and Hermione.
"Harry, quick, cast a Cheering Charm on me", he said urgently.
"What?" Harry looked at him with confusion.
"Cheering Charm", Ron repeated, his lips slightly blue from the cold. "It's the only way. I've been thinking about it all morning."
"What's going on?"
Ron slowly leaned back. "I admit I'm a bit nervous... just a little... okay, very nervous. Harry, I was carried up there and can't come down. Angelina said I'm as good as Wood, and Professor Mcgonagall excused me from Transfiguration homework..."
"Can't you just say it in one sentence?" Hermione said impatiently.
"I'm afraid I won't be able to save a single goal", Ron stammered. "It's strange, I never had this thought before, but when I woke up this morning, it hit me. I tried to talk myself out of it, walked around the Black Lake twice, but things just got worse. Now my hands and feet are cold, I'm dizzy, short of breath, and nauseous..."
"That's because you didn't eat anything this morning!" Harry said irritably.
"Yeah, but I don't think it would have made a difference..." Ron said in a hoarse voice.
"I don't agree. If you're worried about performing poorly, there's no need to be. Your opponents should be more concerned", Hermione encouraged him. "Slytherin's Keeper is a fool, what's his name again?"
"Miles Bletchley", Harry interjected.
To be fair, he thought Bletchley played well, but when Bletchley tried to curse Alicia, one of the Chasers, in the corridor two days ago and failed, Fred and George Weasley had threatened to make sure he wouldn't leave the Quidditch pitch unscathed. Harry, of course, supported his team.
Harry continued Hermione's line of comfort: "Yeah, think about it. Slytherin's team is terrible this year. Flint's gone, and their new captain is Montague. You know what he's like—"
"I saw him shouting at the players when I came over. His sleeves were rolled up, showing his hairy arms. I thought he was holding two hairy ham hocks", Hermione said sarcastically.
Ron managed a stiff smile.
"Their Beaters are new too—Montague recruited Crabbe and Goyle. I don't know why, they're so dumb they can't even tell the head from the tail of a broom", Harry added.
Ron's eyes darted around.
"To be honest, I don't understand what you're worried about", Hermione said irritably. "Compared to the adventures you've been through, a Quidditch match is just child's play, a mere game."
Harry and Ron glared at Hermione, angry at her choice of words. Hermione waved her hand awkwardly. "I don't mean to belittle Quidditch—"
"You do!" Ron blurted out. "You just don't like Quidditch."
Now it was Hermione's turn to glare at him.
Ron turned his head away.
Hermione continued: "Think about all you've been through—trolls, three-headed dogs, Basilisks, Dark Wizards, fire dragons, merpeople, Death Eaters, Voldemort..." She listed a series of events, concluding, "Compared to these, the consequences of losing a Quidditch match are really nothing to worry about."
Harry didn't think it was fair to compare them, as some things, though not dangerous, were equally challenging. However, he didn't want to argue with Hermione, as it would only create more trouble. So he reluctantly agreed, "Yeah."
Ron stood up, looking invigorated. "You're right... Hermione, do you have any food with you?"
“No,” Hermione said dryly.
“Don’t lie to me,” Ron said with certainty. “Your beaded purse is definitely full of snacks.”
Hermione reluctantly pulled out a bag of compressed cookies and tossed it to him.
Ron tore open the package and started eating greedily. Harry swallowed, having eaten very little that morning. It wasn’t because of nervousness, but rather to avoid feeling too full and affecting his performance.
“Boys, how’s the conversation going?” Angelina poked her head out from the changing room.
Harry gave a thumbs-up and fought with Ron for the last few potato chips.
Angelina looked a bit dazed. “It seems you really have no issues. Hurry up and come out, we need to start warming up. Do you want to leave three girls to face seven gorillas?”
“Don’t forget Fred and George Weasley,” Ron mumbled, potato chip crumbs flying.
“I’m not sure if we can count on them. They’re taking a photo with Professor’s Niffler. You have one minute.” She disappeared.
“Let’s go,” Harry said.
“Wait.” Hermione took out her wand and tapped both of them. Their bodies immediately felt warm, as if surrounded by a fireplace.
“What spell did you use?” Harry asked.
“A warming charm,” Hermione replied.
Harry suddenly understood. Familiar memories flooded his mind. He remembered a winter when they trudged through thick snow to Hagrid’s hut. Professor Hagrid introduced the warming charm, and only Hermione, shivering from the cold, had the presence of mind to ask questions. At the time, he was more interested in the gossip from Sirius’s school days.
The story of the ‘Gryffindor First-Year and Hufflepuff Prefect.’
Now, the main characters had become a Defense Against the Dark Arts professor at Hogwarts and a Minister of Magic. Harry felt a bit dazed. Even though he wasn’t a firsthand witness, he still found it wondrous and began to understand Mafalda’s perspective. At that moment, someone nudged him.
“Stop daydreaming. Set a good example for next year’s new players,” Hermione said.
Harry grinned.
Snowflakes drifted through the sky, forming icy crystals as they landed on the ground. The cold wind stung, but Felix, sitting in the stands, felt a completely different, fervent atmosphere. Valen sat on his shoulder, holding its precious wand, swinging its little feet back and forth.
“Your hat looks great. Your taste has improved.”
Valen’s mood brightened even more.
Felix subtly opened his palm, and a suction force emerged from it. The young wizards on the pitch felt a chill run down their spines.
“Why is it so cold all of a sudden?” a student complained.
“Isn’t it always cold?” someone nearby replied. “Look, the two teams are shaking hands. The match is about to begin!”
The two teams were greeted with thunderous applause, the pent-up emotions of the entire year bursting forth. Felix quietly increased the suction force, gathering the intense, passionate, and joyful emotions in his palm. He looked like a Dementor hiding in the crowd, but he absorbed only a little, causing the students to shiver slightly before becoming even more enthusiastic, their applause deafening. As Felix delved deeper into the magical abilities of Magical Creatures, he naturally gained an understanding of the nature of the magic within them.
This magic was different from the magic within wizards.
To be precise, the magic within each Magical Creature was unique, and Felix suspected that these magical properties were significantly influenced by their physical structures.
“The talents of Magical Creatures come from their bodies, while the talents of wizards originate from their souls, or rather, the souls of wizards are the most unique—ghosts carry a certain amount of magic and can manipulate water and fire slightly—when the soul and body combine, a continuous flow of magic is produced….”
“This is just a hypothesis,” Felix looked up at the center of the pitch.
The captains of the two teams stepped forward to shake hands. Valen chirped, pointing with its little stick. The whistle blew, and the match officially began.
Fourteen players soared into the air, moving so fast that they quickly turned into blurry shadows in the snow. Jordan Lee, as usual, stood on the platform, commentating for the audience:
“The match has started. Johnson has the Quaffle first, and of course, she weighs only half, or perhaps a third, of her opponent. After a year, both teams have new faces. Gryffindor has a new Keeper, a crucial position; Slytherin has added two Beaters… Look! Johnson has passed two players. Is she about to attack? Oh no, what a pity, just a little more.”
“The Quaffle is now in Slytherin’s hands. Warrington is charging towards the goal, and there’s no one in front of him. The Bludgers are not nearby, only Gryffindor’s Keeper! He’s new to the team—oh no!”
Harry quickly looked towards the goal. Ron lunged forward, his fingers grazing the Quaffle but failing to grab it. Harry thought he heard a collective sigh and closed his eyes in despair.
"Fantastic! The ball was blocked! Well done, I must say, a great start—” Jordan Lee said excitedly.
"Jordan!" Professor Mcgonagall shouted from the side.
"Next time, Professor. Let's get back to the game. Ron defended, a good start. Now it's Gryffindor's turn to attack. Fred and George Weasley are near the Slytherin goal posts. I know it's not a strategy, they told me privately, cough, cough..."
Harry didn't listen closely. He opened his eyes wide and watched the goal posts. Ron was waving his fists excitedly. From the trajectory of the Quaffle, it seemed his hand had altered its course, making it skim past the goal.
Harry felt a surge of excitement. He knew that for Ron, the first goal was the most crucial. Ron's biggest weakness was losing confidence after making a mistake. If he missed a ball, he would get flustered and end up letting in more. This was data provided by Ginny, and Harry chose to believe it.
He began directing his broom to fly. The snow was getting heavier, and visibility was becoming poor. He almost collided with a Bludger twice. Fred and George Weasley, after confirming Ron didn't need help, seemed ready to fulfill their pre-game promise. Out of three shots, two were aimed at the Slytherin Keeper. Although one missed, Bletchley was terrified and lost two balls in his panic.
The game became more intense. When Harry passed Draco Malfoy for the third time, he could almost count the number of blisters on Malfoy's face. Malfoy's expression was like he was in a trance, reminiscent of Luna's.
Finally, Madam Hooch blew the whistle. Harry circled overhead, looking down. Katie seemed to be entangled with Warrington. Her head was caught between Warrington's thick arms, and her broom had vanished from under her.
"Severe foul!" Madam Hooch shouted furiously.
It took some time to get Katie's broom back. Harry took the opportunity to fly over to Ron. "How's it going?"
"Not bad, not great", Ron said. "I blocked five balls and missed three. I think I'm starting to get the hang of it." He smiled. "But the other side is worse. Fred and George Weasley are targeting Bletchley, and he's not even guarding the goal anymore."
"Be careful they don't do the same to you", Harry warned.
Ron glanced uneasily at the Slytherin team. Montague, with his bare arms, was talking to Crabbe and Goyle. From this angle, their builds were indistinguishable, like triplets. Crabbe and Goyle blinked stupidly in his direction.
"Can I use my wand?" Ron asked anxiously. "If they all come at me, I might cast a spell."
"You'll be penalized and our goal will be defenseless", Harry said.
The game resumed.
Harry decided to end the match as soon as possible. As the game dragged on, the situation would become more complex. He flew high, looking down from several hundred feet. The snow and wind were getting stronger, and the warming charm's effect was wearing off. Finding a tiny golden ball in these conditions was particularly difficult. After two laps, he found nothing, but he did see Mafalda drawing a wobbly sketch in the stands. It was a snake with horns. Harry glanced at it twice and decided to tease her about it later.
Jordan Lee's commentary occasionally reached his ears. "The score is tight—both teams seem to be taking it out on the Keepers. I don't know if this can become a new strategy, but—watch out, Keepers—Derian Pucey has the Quaffle—"
Harry finally saw it: the Golden Snitch was hovering near the Gryffindor goal posts.
Crabbe and Goyle were closing in on Ron, with Derian Pucey following behind, forming a triangular formation. It seemed they were trying to replicate Gryffindor's tactic from the first half. Ron's face turned pale. Without using magic, he feared he would be crushed by the two of them. Suddenly, his eyes lit up as he saw Harry diving from above.
A warm feeling surged in Ron's chest. Harry was coming to save him! The rhythm seemed to fall into place. He could imagine countless similar situations. What did he need to do? Ron lunged forward, blocking the Quaffle. At the same time, he heard the whistling wind, and Harry, clutching the Golden Snitch, spiraled upward.
The pitch erupted in enthusiastic cheers. The lion hat on Luna's head roared in the cold air, startling Valen.
"The game is over."
Felix shook his head. This year's Slytherin team was indeed poor, and their coordination was even worse. However, it didn't concern him much. He took the opportunity to collect the final wave of emotional samples, planning to study them thoroughly later.
It was difficult to create emotions one had never experienced, let alone the intense collective emotions on a Quidditch pitch.
In the evening, a coin Felix kept close to him suddenly became scorching hot.
It was House-Elf Bandy. After nearly a week of waiting, the person from Nurmengard had finally made a decision.
(End of Chapter)
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