NOVEL FROG Chapter 48: Quidditch Match
With the arrival of November came the official start of the Quidditch season this academic year. Today's game, the first of the season, pitted Gryffindor against Slytherin in an exhilarating match.
It was more than a mere rivalry; it was the debut of the youngest seeker in a century at Hogwarts, the much-discussed Harry Potter.
The allure of such a game meant no student would dream of missing it. Consequently, the Quidditch pitch was buzzing with students from early morning. Despite the clear skies, the chill of British November was biting, leaving Harry far from warm, his hands and feet icy.
As a player, Harry had the luxury of arriving a bit later at the pitch. Walking alone, he made his contemplative way to the changing room, his mind a whirl of indistinct thoughts.
"I heard you skipped breakfast?"
Out of nowhere, a hand appeared beside him, offering a piece of dark chocolate. It was plain, more bitter than sweet, yet it brought Harry more joy than the most luscious chocolate could.
Harry's face broke into a smile as he turned to see Tver, his professor, smiling back at him.
"Professor!" Something dawned on him. "It's my first match today, so..."
Tver passed him the chocolate.
"You need to eat something. You might have the will to perform, but without energy, you won't have the strength."
Watching Harry reluctantly eat the chocolate, a grimace on his face, Tver couldn't help but burst into laughter.
Truthfully, the chocolate didn't need to be that bitter. Miss Pomfrey had suggested that a little hardship could make lessons more impactful.
"I have a friend, also a seeker, who was so nervous on his first day he forgot how to fly and spent twenty minutes figuring out his broom."
Harry chuckled at that.
He could just picture the awkward scene of a seeker floundering on the ground, struggling to take off. At least he wasn't in such dire straits.
"But that match only lasted thirty minutes because my friend caught the Golden Snitch within ten minutes. Even now, at just 14, he's not only a Durmstrang but also one of the best seekers in their country."
Harry's mouth dropped open in astonishment, bits of chocolate visible on his teeth, his eyes shining with admiration. It was comforting to know that even the most skilled could feel nervous initially!
"Alright," Tver said, guiding Harry to the changing room and giving him an encouraging pat on the shoulder. "Go on, let everyone witness the debut of Hogwarts' future top seeker."
As Harry entered, still slightly dazed, Tver turned to head towards the stands. Originally, he hadn't planned to attend the match today, his interest in Quidditch being minimal, especially compared to his fascination with studying magical artifacts. However, he had remembered that Quirrell might attempt something against Harry today, and he couldn't risk any deviations that might endanger Harry.
He had escorted Harry as a precaution. Tver still couldn't understand why Quirrell would target Harry—any mishap now would surely arouse Dumbledore's suspicions, potentially disastrous if Quirrell were exposed and coerced into revealing his motives.
The only plausible explanation was a direct command from Voldemort, driven by his profound grudge against Harry.
...
Upon reaching the stands, T over spotted Professor Flitwick's tiny figure waving energetically at him.
Professor McGonagall was nearby, her gaze fixed on the field. She only broke her focus when Tver sat next to her.
"Why are you here so late?" she asked, her tone more relaxed than usual, a stark contrast to her typical formality.
"Just got held up a bit," Tver responded casually.
As they talked, a sharp whistle pierced the air from the center of the pitch, signaling the start of the game. The fourteen players from both teams mounted their brooms and soared into the sky, followed by the release of the game balls.
Amidst the roars of the young wizards, the match officially began.
Tver admittedly knew little about Quidditch, despite having a Durmstrang friend skilled in the sport. His understanding of the rules was vague at best.
Fortunately, he was sitting next to Professor McGonagall, who had been a Gryffindor seeker and team captain during her Hogwarts days. Though few knew of her Quidditch past, her love for the sport remained, undimmed even after she had to quit following a perilous match in her final year. Her distaste for foul play had only intensified with time.
"Are they a bunch of trolls? Do they only know how to crash into their opponents with brute force?"
"Flint is using his bat to attack players! Referee, get that bastard out of here!"
"Oh, my goodness, that sneaky kid just elbowed my player!"
McGonagall muttered indignantly, her fists clenched and pounding against her thighs in frustration.
She was clearly livid.
Flitwick, however, remained unruffled.
"Madam Minerva becomes quite fanatical about Quidditch, though she's usually very serious," he observed.
"And you? You don't seem too interested in Quidditch."
"If your students took Quidditch as lightly as mine do, you'd be as relaxed as I am," Flitwick replied.
Suddenly, McGonagall gasped loudly.
"What's happening to Potter?!"
Tver and Flitwick paused their conversation and turned their attention to the field.
Harry's broom was bucking wildly, like an untamed horse trying to throw its rider.
In a desperate moment, Harry was flung forward, clinging to the broomstick with both hands to prevent a fall.
The crowd soon caught on to Harry's plight, their reactions mirroring McGonagall's initial shock.
"Someone has tampered with Potter's broom!" Flitwick shouted, his voice carrying over the murmur of the crowd.
"Impossible! A broom is a sophisticated magical item, layered with protective spells!" a senior student protested.
However, realizing it was Flitwick who had spoken, he quickly added, "Of course, the professor's knowledge surpasses mine."
Tver chuckled to himself, eyeing Quirrell who sat at the back, muttering under his breath.
Nearby, Snape was also reciting incantations, though it appeared he was attempting to counteract whatever Quirrell was doing.
Snape could have easily caught Quirrell in the act with a mere glance, but his attention was fixed on resolving the crisis with Harry.
Amidst the commotion, a fire broke out in the staff section of the stands, adding to the chaos. However, the flames obediently leapt into the air and vanished with a flick of Tver's wand.
He then winked at a crouching Hermione, who seemed startled by his nonchalance.
The stadium erupted into cheers—Harry, back in control, had caught the Golden Snitch!
Despite looking rather disheveled and almost swallowing the Snitch, Harry secured a victory for Gryffindor over Slytherin!