0239 The Quidditch Match

Words : 2113 Updated : Sep 27th, 2025

Four days had passed since Adrian's encounter with Bart in the Forbidden Forest, and Saturday arrived with all the fanfare of a Scottish Highland storm. The sky was covered by heavy leaden clouds, with bean-sized raindrops constantly pelting down. The rain had transformed the grounds into a muddy landscape of puddles and streams. Water flowed from the castle's countless gargoyles and gutters, creating unplanned waterfalls that splashed against the walkways. However, despite the absolutely dreadful weather that would have sent most sensible people scurrying for the warmth and dryness of indoor spaces, Hogwarts' Quidditch pitch was alive with an almost electric energy. The thunderous noise of hundreds of voices rose above even the sound of the pelting rain, creating a noise of excitement that could be heard from the castle's highest towers. The students' enthusiasm for Quidditch had not diminished in the slightest. Today was the first official match of the academic year that had been eagerly anticipated since the start of term. Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff. By ten o'clock in the morning, the stands of all four houses were already packed to capacity. Students had arrived bundled in thick raincoats that gleamed with waterproofing charms, and carrying umbrellas. In the pitch's locker room, Harry stood clutching his Firebolt. Despite the confidence, he could feel the familiar flutter of pre-match nerves in his stomach. Today would be his first official match using the Firebolt. His opponents were Hufflepuff, and word around the castle suggested they had undergone significant changes to their team composition this year. Reports filtered through the rumor mill spoke of improved training regimens, new strategies, and most notably, their Seeker—Cedric Diggory. Even with this knowledge, Harry still felt confidence about his chances in the upcoming match. After all, he had the Firebolt. With such superior equipment, it seemed nearly impossible that he could lose to his opponents. The sound of thunderous cheering erupted from outside the locker room. "Time to go!" Wood's commanding shout cut through Harry's thoughtful mood. Harry fell into line behind Wood, his teammates were beside him as they made their way through the tunnel that connected the locker rooms to the pitch. As they emerged into the storm, Harry immediately felt the assault of wind-driven rain against his face and exposed skin. Through the curtain of rain, he could make out the yellow figures of Hufflepuff's team. Their opponents were already assembled and clearly prepared for the battle ahead. The two teams approached each other through the driving rain, meeting at the very center of the pitch where the grass had been churned into a muddy mixture by the constant rain. However, the instant the teams came face-to-face, every member of the Gryffindor squad froze as if struck by a simultaneous Stunning Spell. Harry was no exception to this collective shock, because there, held confidently in the hands of the handsome seventh-year at the front of the opposing team, was an identical broomstick—another Firebolt. Under the washing of the rain, Cedric Diggory's Firebolt seemed to gleam with an almost supernatural brilliance. In that single moment, Harry felt his heart plummet. The Firebolt was no longer his exclusive advantage. "I hope this will be a fair and honorable duel," Cedric said to Wood with a friendly smile. "I'm truly looking forward to this match. May the best team win." Wood nodded briefly, his expression tense. He said nothing in response. The situation was no longer looking favorable for Gryffindor. Though Wood was reluctant to admit it, even to himself, Hufflepuff's Quidditch team would undoubtedly prove to be a far more formidable opponent. Meanwhile, in the spectator stands where the noise of hundreds of excited students created a constant roar of anticipation, Adrian was sitting among the sea of yellow and black that marked the Hufflepuff cheering section. He observed the scene below with satisfaction, nodding approvingly as he watched the two Seekers size each other up through the rain. An evenly matched game was more worth watching than a one-sided affair. The Firebolt clutched in Cedric's hands was, indeed, a gift from Adrian himself. Some weeks earlier, he had remembered his own unused Firebolt, purchased with the best of intentions but left gathering dust in his office. As a professor, he had little opportunity for entertaining flying, and the expensive broom seemed wasted in storage. So, he simply donated it to his house's Quidditch team for their best player to use. As a Hufflepuff, supporting his house team was only natural. Moreover, Cedric played Quidditch exceptionally well. Speaking of Cedric, even Adrian had to admit that he could hardly find any significant flaws in the young man. Cedric was academically excellent, athletically gifted, socially popular, and had character that seemed untainted by arrogance or malice. He was, in many respects, what every parent hoped their child would become. "Here you are, Professor," a familiar voice said beside him. Adrian turned to see Ernie Macmillan giving him a pair of binoculars. "Oh, thank you, Ernie," Adrian replied, accepting with gratitude. He promptly brought the binoculars to his eyes, and was immediately surprised by what he discovered. Despite the terrible weather conditions that had reduced visibility to mere yards, these magical binoculars somehow provided somewhat clear images of the activities on the pitch below. The falling rain seemed to be magically erased from his field of vision. "Where did you acquire these remarkable binoculars?" Adrian asked, turning his attention to Ernie with curiosity. "Cedric gave them to us," Ernie replied, his voice carrying undisguised admiration and perhaps a touch of hero worship. "He said he crafted them himself during his free time. I could never create something so sophisticated... the charm work alone must be incredibly complex." Adrian examined the binoculars from multiple angles, his eye noting the precision of the enchantments and the quality of the craftsmanship. The magical enhancements were seamlessly integrated. It seemed that Cedric Diggory was even more exceptional than Adrian had previously realized. The sharp blast of Madam Hooch's whistle cut through the storm, officially signaling the start of the year's first Quidditch match. The sound seemed to release all the pent-up energy that had been building in the stands, and the crowd erupted into a deafening roar of approval. Fourteen players launched themselves into the turbulent sky, their broomsticks cutting through the driving rain as red and yellow figures began weaving complex patterns. From the stands, enthusiastic cheers erupted in waves that seemed to follow the flow of play, rising and falling with each successful pass, each near-miss, each spectacular save by the opposing Keepers. Honestly, Adrian thought as he watched through his enhanced binoculars, such weather was hardly ideal for conducting a Quidditch match. The rain created dangerous flying conditions, reduced visibility to hazardous levels, and made ball-handling nearly impossible for players whose hands were constantly slick with moisture. Due to the terrible weather conditions, most students in the stands couldn't see clearly what was actually happening on the pitch. They were reduced to cheering along with the crowd, following the emotional signs of those around them rather than the actual play. The lucky few who had magical viewing aids whether binoculars, telescopes, or other enhanced devices found themselves serving as informal commentators for their less fortunate neighbors. Those who could see clearly immediately focused their attention on two particularly outstanding figures soaring high above the main action. Harry Potter and Cedric Diggory had quickly spotted the Golden Snitch darting through the rain-soaked air and had begun their aerial duel in earnest. "They seem to have changed their broomsticks..." Adrian heard Ernie's quiet observation beside him, and couldn't suppress a slight smile at the statement. Well, with the match proceeding as smoothly as could be expected given the circumstances, Adrian decided it was time to begin making some necessary preparations of his own. When the referee's whistle signaled halftime, the scoreboard displayed numbers that told the story of an incredibly close contest: 90-70, with Hufflepuff trailing by twenty points. Everyone in the stands understood that this wasn't the crucial statistic. With such a negligible score difference, the Seekers would ultimately be the key to determining which house would claim victory. During the first half of play, Harry and Cedric had been locked in an intense combat that showcased both their skills and the superiority of their equipment. Neither had been able to gain a decisive advantage over the other, and even when they spotted the elusive Golden Snitch flitting through the rain, neither could approach it successfully before it vanished again into the storm. In the spectator stands, Ernie lowered his magical binoculars and turned to where Adrian had been sitting, his voice carrying nervousness. "Oh no, Potter actually managed to keep pace with Cedric's speed throughout that entire half. Do you think we can still win this match? Professor Westeros... Professor Westeros?" Ernie looked around in confusion, his eyes scanning the area with urgency. Adrian's seat beside him was completely empty, with only the magical binoculars lying abandoned on the wet bench. "That's strange..." Ernie muttered, scratching his head in puzzlement. This was supposed to be the most crucial moment of the match—the halftime break when strategies would be discussed and final preparations made. Where could their house professor have disappeared to at such a critical juncture? However, Ernie's concerns about Adrian's whereabouts were quickly pushed aside as the referee's whistle announced the resumption of play. The crowd's attention immediately refocused on the pitch, where the players were once again taking to the storm-filled skies. Meanwhile, on an open area of the castle grounds not far from the Quidditch pitch, an ominous and unnatural shadow was quietly beginning to gather. Adrian stood in the curtain of rain, gently gripping his wand. His gaze pierced through the rain, staring far at that increasingly dense darkness. Dementors were flying in from all directions, gathering together. Adrian took a moment to conduct a rough count of the approaching entities. There were at least one hundred of them, possibly more still concealed by the storm. This was no small number. He had never encountered so many Dementors gathered in a single location before. As for why these Dementors would gather here, Adrian guessed it was probably to feast at the Quidditch match. The Quidditch pitch was currently overflowing with the purest expressions of joy, excitement, and passion that hundreds of young students could produce. For creatures that fed on positive emotions and left behind only despair and emptiness, this gathering was nothing short of a magnificent feast. Adrian could almost imagine them greedily sampling the emotional atmosphere that drifted from the stadium, like hungry predators catching the scent of blood on the wind. The concentrated happiness and enthusiasm of so many young people would be an irresistible lure to beings whose very existence depended on consuming such emotions. Sure enough, after the Dementors finished their gathering and achieved what appeared to be their desired formation, they began to drift slowly toward the Quidditch pitch. And at this moment, Adrian stood directly in their path. "Final warning," Adrian announced, pressing his wand to his throat and casting a voice-amplification charm that allowed his words to carry clearly despite the howling wind and driving rain. "You have no right or authorized permission to enter this area! I order you to retreat immediately!" The advancing Dementors paused for a moment, their forward momentum slowing as they seemed to consider this unexpected obstacle. Their hooded forms turned toward Adrian, and though he couldn't see their faces beneath the shadows of their hoods, he could sense their intelligence evaluating the situation. But after only a brief hesitation, they continued their drift forward. Though they had clearly sensed some form of ominous magical power emanating from the lone figure standing in front of them, their confidence remained unshaken. A single human thought he could stop them? It was simply preposterous. Seeing their response to his warning, Adrian slowly exhaled a long, resigned sigh that was immediately swept away by the storm winds. His eyes swept the surrounding landscape, searching for any sign of the Ministry of Magic personnel who were supposedly responsible for controlling and directing these creatures. Where were the official handlers who should be managing the Dementors' activities? If they didn't make an appearance very soon, Adrian realized, something unpleasant was about to occur on the grounds of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Of course, the unpleasantness would be experienced by the Dementors. ________________ You can read more chapters on: /IamLuis

0239 The Quidditch Match

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