Thanks to Lockhart's guidance, this year's Quidditch opening match included sothing completely new—a ceremonial lap around the stadium, an event that had never happened before.
Led by Draco, who had only played Quidditch for a year yet was already erging as a star, the match hadn't even started, and the crowd was already fired up just watching the spectacle.
Cheers erupted from every corner—Quidditch lovers, those who didn't know the ga but admired the players' looks, and, of course, diehard Slytherin fans. The energy in the air surged to a fever pitch, as if Draco and his team had already claid the Quidditch Cup...
"As you can see, this year's Slytherin team has undergone a major overhaul. Including Captain Draco, they now have four second-years on the roster. Professor Lockhart, what do you think of such a bold decision?"
Jordan had to raise his voice over the deafening cheers just to be heard. He also wanted to see if Lockhart, standing beside him, was actually qualified for his role as guest comntator.
Don't let Professor McGonagall's appearance fool you—she's a Quidditch fanatic. You could get proper answers to all your questions from her.
So if Lockhart couldn't offer anything useful, Jordan had already decided not to bother asking him about Quidditch again.
But Lockhart never fails to surprise...
"Speaking of Quidditch, I can't not ntion my book Quidditch Stay Night. In that legendary seven-on-seven match, I erged victorious and claid the Great Cup. If any wizard is interested—"
"Ahem! I just got my hands on so details about the new players. Notably, Slytherin has swapped out both of their Beaters, replacing them with newcors Gregory Goyle and Vincent Crabbe. Just look at those muscles! I think George and the others better watch out."
Apparently hearing their nas, Goyle and Crabbe, marching alongside Draco, started proudly flexing their arms for the crowd. Pansy, her cheeks flushed with excitent, rolled her eyes at their antics.
"Next up is their new Seeker—Pansy Parkinson. She's likely Slytherin's first-ever female Seeker, and like her rival Harry Potter, she's only a second-year. Could it be that Slytherin has a genius Seeker of their own?"
Before Pansy could even scold Goyle and Crabbe to behave, that introduction alone made her straighten up and put on an icy expression—as if to show the world she wasn't intimidated by the so-called Chosen One.
Even with her cold deanor, Pansy's striking face and stylish short hair fluttering in the wind made her the most stunning figure in all of Slytherin...
"And finally... the one who single-handedly transford the team's style, beca captain in his first year, and broke tradition by making the lineup as a first-year."
Jordan paused here, taking a deep breath. In that instant, the once-roaring Quidditch pitch fell completely silent, as if holding its breath for the next words.
Or rather, for one na...
"Their ace—Draco Malfoy!!"
He waved.
He raised the flag.
And as if in perfect sync with him, the entire stadium erupted.
"Yeahhh!!"
"Let's go, Ace!"
"Dracooo!!"
It wasn't just the crowd roaring—every Slytherin teammate trailing behind Draco was shouting his na at full volu.
And off to the side, Pansy, still staring at Draco's back, was wobbling on her broom so much that it looked like she might crash into the viewing platform at any second...
...
The roar was so loud it felt like it might shake the entire Quidditch pitch. The young Gryffindor supporters, caught off guard, seed to lose their fire. To anyone unaware, it looked like the match—still yet to begin—had already been lost.
Even the Gryffindor players waiting at the sidelines wore heavy expressions, casting envious glances toward Draco Malfoy, who held the Slytherin flag high as he led his team. At the sa ti, doubts crept into their minds—could they really stop Slytherin's ace?
The mory of being crushed last ti was still painfully fresh.
As Gryffindor captain Oliver stood in silence, it was Harry Potter, positioned at the back of the group, who finally spoke.
"I'll catch the Golden Snitch!"
The sudden declaration turned every head in his direction.
Though the attention made Harry visibly tense, he held his head high and t their gaze. That resolute look sparked a flicker of warmth into the team's deflated morale.
"..."
"That's right! We've got the best Seeker—there's no way we're losing to Slytherin or that guy!"
"We've gotta give those Slytherins sothing to worry about, right, George?"
"Yeah—except I'm not George, I'm Fred."
"No, you're Fred. I'm George."
"..."
"..."
Just as Gryffindor's spirits began to lift, a booming voice from the comntator's booth reminded them it was their turn to take the field.
"Now entering the pitch... the strongest team in history—Gryffindor!!"
Though the cheers weren't as deafening as they had been for Draco's lap, the wave of red and gold roaring from the Gryffindor stands was still a sight to behold. Clearly, the earlier spectacle had fired them up.
In the crowd stood Hermione, though her attention seed elsewhere. If one looked closely, they'd notice her gaze drifting, almost involuntarily, toward where Draco stood.
To be fair, it wasn't just Hermione. Nearly every young witch in the stadium was doing the sa—which almost caused the nearby Pansy, already buzzing with excitent and nerves, to lose it.
As Hermione's cheeks flushed and her thoughts began to swirl, Neville suddenly appeared beside her and asked loudly,
"Hermione! Have you seen Ron? I've been looking everywhere. We were supposed to cheer Harry on together!"
"Ron?"
Neville's question snapped Hermione out of her daze. She paused, then quickly shook her head.
Now that he ntioned it... she couldn't even rember when she last saw Ron.
But before she could dwell on it, the referee's whistle blew—signaling the start of the match—and all such thoughts were pushed aside...
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