This year’s Quidditch season caused a stir twice before the first match had even started.
The initial buzz came when Kyle set a new record, scoring twenty-one goals in just ten minutes, sparking a fresh wave of enthusiasm for Quidditch across Hogwarts. Before that excitement could die down, even more sensational news broke: Harry Potter, the famed "Boy Who Lived" and the one who had defeated the Dark Lord, had been made the youngest Seeker in a century. Harry was already popular, and with this new role, it was clear this year’s Quidditch matches would be livelier than ever.
Half an hour before the game, the stands were already packed, with students filling every seat. Not even the biting wind could dampen their excitement.
“This thing actually works…” Malfoy remarked in surprise from the Slytherin stands. He looked down at the little “snake” wrapped around his arm, glowing blue and radiating a pleasant warmth. And each time he lifted his arm, the snake would hiss toward the Gryffindor stands. The only problem was the sound—soft enough to be drowned out by the cheers around him.
Across the pitch, Gryffindor’s roar was so loud that it could be heard even from within the castle.
“Why isn’t there a premium version?” Malfoy grumbled.
Beside him, Goyle quickly chimed in, “Kyle said there wasn’t enough time to make it.”
Goyle had a small glowing snake wrapped around his arm as well.
“I heard you, no need to remind me,” Malfoy snapped, then said loudly, “And he promised he’d bring what I wanted for the next Slytherin match. It’ll be bigger, more flexible, and in the Slytherin colors—silver and green.”
Hearing this, the young wizards around him grew excited. Many of them came from wealthy families and would gladly pay for better cheering gear.
“Draco, isn’t this kind of thing a lot more complex than a map…?” one of them asked doubtfully. “Can Kyle really pull it off? He’s only a second-year.”
“Of course he can,” Malfoy replied confidently, raising an eyebrow. “He already promised me.”
Meanwhile, not far off in the Hufflepuff stands, Cedric found himself asking the same question.
“Kyle, can you really pull off what Malfoy’s asking for?”
“It’s a bit of a hassle...” Kyle replied, frowning, “but it’s doable. It’ll just take some time.”
The things they had sold before were mostly just glass bottles with a few sound effects—nothing overly complicated. But Malfoy’s list of demands couldn’t be met with Transfiguration alone; these would have to be crafted as genuine magical items.
Still, for a hundred Galleons, Kyle figured the extra trouble was worth it.
Cedric caught Kyle’s drift, whistling in admiration. The wealthy Malfoy family didn’t hesitate to shell out a hundred Galleons for a cheering prop, an amount that exceeded Cedric’s father’s monthly salary.
Soon after, the professors arrived—Professor McGonagall, Professor Snape, and even Professor Sprout, who typically stayed in the greenhouses. Nearly the entire school, aside from Headmaster Dumbledore, was gathered around the Quidditch Pitch. Students in the back rows clutched binoculars, and some seats had been magically lifted to give better views.
When the two teams finally emerged from the tunnel onto the field, the Gryffindor stands burst into cheers at the sight of Harry Potter in his team uniform, followed by thunderous roars from enchanted lion heads.
“That thing is amazing…” Ron muttered to Hermione, casting an envious look at the blue lion heads held by Neville and Seamus. “You should really get one of those.”
“No need, Ron,” Hermione replied, shaking her head. “It’s just a simple Bluebell Flames Charm and a Transfiguration Spell. Not worth fifteen Sickles. Besides, I already made you one, didn’t I?”
“It’s different,” Ron mumbled, looking down at the jar Hermione had crafted for him. It gave off a comforting warmth but couldn’t make a lion’s roar. Kyle had said the heating function was just an added perk that “didn’t even count as money.”
Seeing Ron’s dissatisfied expression, Hermione’s temper flared. She snatched the jar from his hand. “If you don’t want it, give it back!”
A gust of cold wind swept past, and Ron, too surprised to react, shivered violently. “Blimey, it’s freezing!”
“Hermione…” Ron began.
“Hmph!” Hermione turned away, still fuming.
In truth, Hermione knew that the heating jar she had made was nothing like Kyle’s creations. She had tried multiple times on the way here, and while she could manage the Transfiguration Spell, her jar lacked Kyle’s finesse and couldn’t produce any lion’s roar. The gap in skill was already disheartening, and Ron’s ungrateful look felt like salt in the wound.
With no other option, Ron scooted as close as he could to Neville and Seamus to catch some warmth from their lion heads.
The game began with the referee’s whistle.
“Look, the Quaffle has just been seized by Gryffindor’s Angelina Johnson…” announced Lee Jordan from the commentator’s box, having been chosen as this year’s new Quidditch commentator.
However… after just one sentence, Lee veered off-topic.
“What an outstanding Chaser that girl is, and she’s also very attractive…”
“Jordan!” came Professor McGonagall’s stern reminder.
“Sorry, Professor,” Lee replied, and the crowd burst into laughter.
Kanna, watching from the stands, glanced over at the commentary box. “This year’s commentary seems a bit… different, doesn’t it?” she remarked.
“Can’t say I’m surprised,” Kyle chuckled. “Lee’s friends with Fred and George, so you can’t expect a typical commentator.”
Cedric nodded in agreement, then paused as a thought struck him. Wait a minute, I’m friends with Fred and George, too…
Back in the stands, Lee Jordan continued his commentary, skillfully balancing humor and play-by-play. Though he occasionally threw in flirtatious remarks, his commentary was lively and engaging, adding a new flavor to the match. The audience quickly warmed to his style—it may have been less traditional, but it certainly made the game all the more entertaining.