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Chapter 97: A Fiery Game of Quidditch (1)
Chapter 97: A Fiery Game of Quidditch (1)
As November set in, the once dreary sky began to sprinkle snowflakes, heralding an unusually frigid turn in the weather.
Albert awoke from his slumber to find the forest surrounding the castle blanketed in pristine white snow, and the Black Lake frozen over with a thick layer of ice.
People were saying that winter had arrived earlier than usual this year, but Albert himself wasn't too bothered by the change in seasons. Before the temperature had dropped, he had already wrapped himself snugly in woolen sweaters and scarves, and had even taken the time to learn the Drying Charm from Professor Flitwick, ensuring he was more than prepared for the cold.
However, there was something far more intriguing than the chilly weather that captured everyone's attention: the start of the Quidditch season at Hogwarts.
Every morning, Albert would see Hagrid, broom in hand, braving the wind and snow to clear the path leading to the Quidditch pitch, ensuring that the snowfall didn't completely obscure the way.
Charlie, the Gryffindor Quidditch team captain, was also in high spirits during this time, taking every opportunity during training to enthusiastically explain tactics and strategies to the team.
George and Fred, being unofficial players, had narrowly escaped Charlie's fervent coaching, and they told Albert that their usually laid-back captain had transformed into a strict, almost demonic version of himself.
Fortunately, the most recent training sessions hadn't required the participation of unofficial players.
The first match was between Gryffindor and Slytherin, and Charlie announced the results of the draw at the dining table, with the match scheduled for the upcoming weekend.
All Gryffindor students were eager to defeat Slytherin and claim victory in this Quidditch match. Professor McGonagall had even excused everyone from their homework before the match, clearly showcasing the Head of House's desire for victory and her passion for Quidditch.
In fact, there was another important reason why everyone was yearning for a win. Gryffindor was currently at the bottom of the House Cup standings, and they desperately needed the points from a Quidditch victory to improve their embarrassing position.
If Gryffindor won, they would surpass Hufflepuff in the standings, climbing to third place, and even close in on Ravenclaw, who was in second.
However, the strangest part was that the Hufflepuff students were also hoping for a Gryffindor victory, and the Ravenclaws supported Gryffindor as well. It seemed that Slytherin was universally disliked at Hogwarts.
During the weekend, the weather turned bitterly cold, with a mix of rain and snow falling from the sky.
Albert remained curled up in his warm bed, reluctant to get up. Eventually, Fred and George, brimming with excitement, yanked off his covers and dragged him out of his cozy nest.
"It's freezing out there! I don't want to brave this weather just to watch a match!" Albert said, quickly wrapping himself in thick layers of clothing and casting the Drying Charm on himself to instantly warm his icy clothes, just as if they had been dried by a roaring fireplace.
"Don't be silly," Fred replied, jumping up and down in an attempt to warm himself. "This is a rare opportunity. Let's go cheer for the Gryffindor team together!"
"Stop jumping, you're making me dizzy," Albert said, raising his wand and poking Fred with it before casting the Drying Charm on him.
"Hey, what did you just do? I don't feel cold anymore," Fred said, eyeing Albert with curiosity.
"Magic is power, my young friend. It never hurts to learn a few extra spells," Albert said, patting Fred's shoulder in a fatherly manner.
Fred froze, taken aback by Albert's sudden change in demeanor.
"Do me next!"
Jordan, who had just finished getting dressed and donning his winter cloak, quickly joined them, asking Albert to chase away the chill from his body as well.
"Me too," another voice piped up.
Indeed, it was an exceptionally cold day, with the temperature in the room hovering at eight degrees, and that was with the fireplace lit.
If they took the thermometer outside, it would likely drop below zero.
Speaking of thermometers, Fred and the others had been quite amused by them when they first saw them.
Albert decided that he would gift each of them an indoor thermometer for Christmas this year.
Armed with a folding umbrella, a pair of binoculars tucked into his pocket, a thick scarf knitted by Daisy draped around his neck, and a small, silver-plated flask filled with hot water tucked into his robe pocket as a makeshift hand warmer, Albert finally set off with his roommates toward the Great Hall.
As they entered the dining room, the tantalizing aroma of roasted sausages filled the air.
Everyone at the tables was excitedly chatting about the upcoming match, their eyes sparkling with anticipation of a thrilling Quidditch game.
However, there was a palpable tension between the Gryffindor and Slytherin tables.
Seated right next to each other, the two houses were engaged in verbal sparring, though it hadn't yet escalated into a physical confrontation. This indicated that both sides were exercising restraint, choosing to save the true battle for the Quidditch pitch.
"Good luck, Charlie," Albert said, joining his friends as they gathered around Charlie to wish him well.
"Have you found any substitutes yet?" Mark suddenly asked.
"Substitutes?" Albert asked, puzzled. "Do you mean this match is going to be a long one?"
"There are always exceptions," Jack replied, glancing at the Slytherin table. "Our two teams have a long history of bad blood, even though some players graduated last year. The rivalry between us is still intense, and some conflicts on the pitch are inevitable."
He continued, "So, we need some substitute players. The other team will likely need them too."
Albert felt that something was amiss. As far as he knew, substitutions weren't allowed during Quidditch matches.
"We've got them," Charlie said, patting Mark's shoulder reassuringly. "Don't worry, Madam Pomfrey will be there to watch the match. If anyone gets injured, she'll fix them up in no time."
Albert's lips twitched at Charlie's words, which somehow gave him the impression that they were preparing for battle.
Could it be that the two teams would come to blows on the pitch?
At eleven o'clock, the entire school, armed with umbrellas, braved the rain and snow to make their way to the Quidditch stadium.
The audience wasn't limited to Hogwarts students and staff; even wizards from outside the school had come to watch the match, undeterred by the harsh weather.
Indeed, Hogwarts sold tickets for the Quidditch matches to the public.
When Albert arrived at the pitch, he spotted wizards from outside the school, their cloaks draped over them, holding umbrellas in one hand and binoculars in the other, waiting for the game to start from their seats among the graduates.
It seemed that there weren't many entertainment options in the wizarding world, but Quidditch was definitely a popular choice. It was said that tickets for each match sold quite well.
Of course, these visitors were restricted to the Quidditch stadium, and the distance from the pitch to Hogsmeade wasn't too far.
Fred and George had chosen seats not far from the Gryffindor changing room, which puzzled Albert. If they wanted a clear view of the match, the highest level would undoubtedly offer the best perspective.
The Weasley brothers merely replied, "Perhaps we'll come in handy too."
Albert immediately interpreted this to mean that they might need to substitute a Chaser during the game, but he thought it unlikely.
Despite the less-than-ideal weather, watching the game with his friends felt exhilarating. It was akin to watching a movie or a match on his computer; the atmosphere was entirely different from going to a cinema or an actual stadium.
As the crowd roared, the Gryffindor team, clad in their crimson robes, entered the pitch, eliciting enthusiastic cheers and applause. Their entrance was followed by the Slytherin team in emerald green, who were greeted with a mixture of boos and applause.
"It seems our Slytherin team isn't very well-liked!" the Ravenclaw commentator shouted into the microphone with a teasing tone.
The next moment, his words were met with boos from the Slytherin stands.
Albert had no doubt that if the school hadn't separated the four houses, a chaotic brawl might have broken out during the game.
Madame Hooch, the flying instructor, served as the referee, standing in the center of the pitch with her Nimbus 2000, awaiting the players' entrance.
"Listen up, everyone," she said loudly once the two teams had gathered around her. "I expect a fair and honest game from all of you."
Her words, amplified by magic, reached every corner of the stadium.
In truth, Madame Hooch's words were directed at certain individuals on both teams.
"I feel like both captains are trying to crush each other's hands," Albert remarked, adjusting his monocle and observing Charlie as he shook hands with the opposing captain, a wry smile tugging at his lips.
Handshakes that turned into tests of strength were common occurrences, and people who enjoyed playing such tricks could be found everywhere.
"Charlie even asked me for advice on how to exert strength during a handshake," a familiar voice piped up beside them. Hagrid, carrying a large umbrella and a pair of binoculars, sat down next to the group.
Even before the game began, Albert could sense the tension in the air, and he suspected that the match wouldn't be as straightforward as he had imagined.
At the sound of the whistle, fifteen brooms soared into the sky.
The match had officially begun.
A few minutes later, a stunned Albert could confidently declare that this was, without a doubt, the dirtiest game he had ever witnessed.
The Snitch was first caught by Jack, the Gryffindor Seeker known for his agility. With his teammates' protection, he skillfully employed a back pass tactic, earning Gryffindor an early lead of ten points.
However, in an attempt to prevent the Gryffindor Chaser from scoring, the Slytherin Beater chose to collide with Jack, causing both of their brooms to veer off course by several meters.
"Foul! Foul!" the crowd erupted in anger, their voices drowning out the rain and snow above.
"Slytherin is guilty of intentional collision!" the commentator shouted. "Fortunately, their plot failed, and Gryffindor takes the lead. The Snitch now goes to Gryffindor, as ruled by Madame Hooch."
The game continued...
"Is this kind of situation normal?" Albert shouted over the commotion of his roommates, directing his question to Hagrid beside him.
"No, it's not," Hagrid replied, turning his head slightly. "But in recent years, the matches between Gryffindor and Slytherin have been filled with tension."
When the commentator announced Gryffindor's score, Hagrid enthusiastically applauded.
"Tension?" Albert redirected his gaze back to the pitch, feeling that it wasn't just tension, but rather an explosive atmosphere laden with dynamite.
"Gryffindor scores again, taking an early lead of twenty points!" the commentator exclaimed, clearly favoring Gryffindor despite his obvious lack of qualification.
The fact that Gryffindor had taken a substantial lead so quickly infuriated the Slytherin team, and they began to resort to underhanded tactics to gain possession of the Quaffle.
As Mario prepared to pass the Quaffle, his broom was kicked, causing it to wobble violently. He had to grip the broom tightly to avoid falling off, and the Bludger he had been holding on to was snatched away by a Slytherin Chaser.
However, Gryffindor had their own retaliation. As Mark flew past Marcus Flint, the Slytherin Beater, he threw a fake punch that turned out to be very real, landing squarely on Marcus's nose and causing him to tilt his head back and start bleeding.
Both Gryffindor and Slytherin were penalized by Madame Hooch for these actions.
The game continued in this chaotic manner, with Madame Hooch blowing her whistle almost every few minutes to announce yet another foul.
The referee was nearly driven mad by the constant interruptions.
Albert took a swig from his water bottle and joined his friends in voicing their disapproval of the Slytherin team's unsportsmanlike conduct.
There was no other choice, as one of the Slytherin players, Locke, had struck Eileen on the back of her head with a bat, claiming that he had mistaken her head for a Bludger.
Madame Hooch blew her whistle once more, and the Snitch was back in Jack's possession. The Chaser skillfully dodged the incoming Bludger and made a sharp turn toward Locke. The Snitch moved with lightning speed and slammed into the bewildered Beater's face, ricocheting off and being caught by a teammate flying below.
"Oh, sorry, my vision isn't too good, and I mistook you for someone else. My apologies," Jack offered a disingenuous apology to Locke before flying off on his broom without waiting for a response.
Despite the protests from the Slytherin stands, Madame Hooch did not blow her whistle, deeming it a normal pass.
Technically, it could be argued that the Gryffindor Chaser had voluntarily given up his team's advantage by passing to the Slytherin Beater. As for using the Snitch to hit someone in the face, well, that was Locke's fault for not dodging.
At this point in the game, even Professor McGonagall was too occupied with cheering to stop the commentator's biased remarks. The Gryffindor Head of House was enthusiastically waving her fists in the air.
This was because, just moments ago, Charlie had almost caught the Golden Snitch, but a Slytherin Chaser, Montague, had suddenly crashed into him, causing Charlie to nearly fall off his broom and lose his chance at the Snitch.
Although Gryffindor gained another ten points from this incident, it did little to quell the anger of their supporters, who began throwing objects onto the pitch in protest.
Gryffindor responded in kind. When Montague entered the Gryffindor scoring area with the Quaffle, Wood slapped him across the face, causing him to become dizzy and almost fall off his broom.
"Penalty!" Madame Hooch screamed in rage at Wood. "I don't recall any rule that permits attacking a Chaser!"
"Sorry, I was too excited and made a mistake," Wood apologized, feigning innocence as if what had just happened was a mere accident.
In the stands, Albert felt that there was something very wrong with this game. It was, without a doubt, the rudest match he had ever witnessed.
Could this be the legendary passionate Quidditch?
(End of Chapter)
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