While the cheers for Gryffindor didn’t quite match those for the reigning champions, it didn’t dampen their fighting spirit.
After all, they had trained relentlessly through all kinds of weather. If nothing else, they wanted to show what their hard work had achieved and prove that effort never goes unrewarded...
“Slytherin’s brooms are better than ours. That’s just a fact.”
Oliver’s words made Harry and the others glance at the Slytherin brooms. Not only were there the usual Nimbus 2000s, but Pansy, Goyle, and the other newly added players were riding the latest Nimbus 2001s.
Honestly, the sheer wealth on display made the Gryffindor players—most from ordinary wizarding families—burn with envy.
“But we’ve got better riders! We trained harder! We’ve flown through storms, hail, and everything in between! Let’s show them that even with top-of-the-line brooms, they still can’t win!”
You had to admit—Oliver was a great captain. At least when it came to rallying the team and firing them up before a match, he was just as good as any pro Quidditch player.
Though... it might also be because the training had been brutal.
“You’re right. My jersey hasn’t been dry since August.”
“Dinner’s always the last thing I get to eat.”
“Haven’t had a second to properly maintain my broom.”
“I nap through all my classes.”
Somehow, the conversation turned into a mini gripe session—but that helped ease the tension and anxiety hanging over them.
Maybe, with that kind of stubborn energy, they really did stand a chance...
...
And honestly, Harry and the others weren’t without hope.
Aside from Pansy’s lack of experience as a Seeker, Draco’s signature defensive counterattack tactic had already been picked apart by other Houses. They might not have studied it inside and out, but they at least had strategies to counter it.
That’s what most wizards believed, anyway...
“Draco from Slytherin has the Quaffle—wait! That looks like a new tactic!!”
Jordan’s excited voice made everyone zero in on Draco as he launched forward on the offensive.
Nothing about the image seemed off—until you noticed the pace. It wasn’t the cautious, reactive rhythm of Slytherin’s old counterattack strategy.
Jordan quickly clarified...
“This is... the Black Hounds’ single-arrow offense!”
Gasps echoed across the stands.
No one expected this. Instead of relying on last year’s unbeatable defense, Slytherin, under Draco’s lead, had rolled out an entirely new tactic right from the start.
It completely blindsided everyone.
“Are the Black Hounds a professional team?”
“What kind of single-arrow what now?”
Most of the young witches and wizards loved Quidditch, but when it came to deep tactical play, only a handful could actually follow what was happening. That’s exactly why Jordan’s commentary was crucial.
“It’s a single-arrow offense! It’s the Black Hounds’ signature move. A system built around an ace player—no wonder Slytherin’s using it.”
“Yes, yes! A very similar tactic appears in my book Quidditch Stay Night, and in that match, I—of course—was the team’s essential, irreplaceable ace.”
Jordan’s analysis left most young witches and wizards thoroughly confused—but at least the term “ace player” was something they understood.
As for Lockhart’s enthusiastic self-promotion... most people just ignored it. Jordan, standing right beside him, acted like he hadn’t heard a thing...
“Go, Goyle! Crabbe!”
“No problem, Draco!”
“Leave it to us!”
With Draco’s command, his Nimbus 2000 shot forward again, while Goyle and Crabbe, bats in hand, slammed the incoming Bludger away with a powerful swing.
Unlike the previous matches where they’d relied on a more passive counterattack strategy due to lack of coordination, this time, Slytherin was fully capable of launching a direct assault into enemy territory.
Their speed, cohesion, and Draco’s sheer destructive presence as the ace fired up the crowd. The young wizards who idolized him roared with excitement.
After all, for kids who worship their heroes, nothing’s more thrilling than watching one person take on the entire opposing team.
While the others battled it out mid-air, Pansy, as Seeker, hovered high above the pitch, scanning for the Golden Snitch.
“So this is what the field looks like from up here?”
The thunderous cheers from the stands, the blurs of players zipping through the sky with grit on their faces, and Draco’s fearless charge all left a deep impression on Pansy. Of course, it would’ve been even better if Harry Potter wasn’t constantly trailing her like a piece of gum.
The thought made her glare at him—especially that goofy smile on his face. It made her want to punch it.
“Ugh, whatever. Focus on the Snitch.”
Muttering to herself, Pansy reluctantly pulled her gaze away from Draco. As much as she wanted to watch him score, she didn’t want to disappoint him by missing her own target.
But just as she started her search for the Snitch, a familiar figure in the stands caught her eye...
“Isn’t that... that weird girl from Ravenclaw?”
It was the same girl who always seemed to show up to mooch tea off Draco. For a moment, Pansy was stunned—not because the Ravenclaw was cheering for Slytherin, or because her serene expression felt out of place—but because she had literally dressed herself like a snake.
Or more precisely, she was wearing a snake-head hat that actually hissed and flicked its tongue.
Seeing that, Pansy honestly didn’t know whether to thank the girl for her support or pretend she’d never seen her.
Because it was just... way too bizarre.
While Pansy was still distracted by the eccentric Ravenclaw, she suddenly noticed that the commentary had gone quiet.
“What’s going on?”
“Look! Something’s happening over there!”
“Wait, isn’t that Professor McGonagall? Is she finally getting rid of that annoying Lockhart?”
“No... that doesn’t look like it...”
It wasn’t until someone pointed it out that the crowd realized Professor McGonagall had stepped onto the commentary platform. Jordan was there too, seemingly protesting something.
But a moment later, Jordan stepped down from the booth—clearly dejected.
The young witches and wizards watching all wore stunned expressions, and what McGonagall said next explained everything.
“Everyone, listen up—the match is over!”
Her words left the entire crowd gaping, as if she’d just announced something unbelievable.
But from the look on McGonagall’s face, she wasn’t joking.
She clearly wasn’t in the mood for jokes at all...