When Kyle emerged from the Headmaster's Office, he was holding a feather along with the Magic Suppressing Potion. It was a warm Phoenix tail feather—a gift from Fawkes. The Phoenix had plucked it off right in front of Kyle’s eyes as if sensing his departure.
Kyle hadn’t just broken even—he had profited, trading a simple bluebell for a fresh Phoenix tail feather. What a generous Phoenix, he thought.
After leaving the 8th floor, Kyle hurried towards the Quidditch Pitch. But upon arriving, he was greeted by a group of young Hufflepuffs carrying Cedric and rushing towards the Hospital Wing, all while cursing angrily.
“The shameless scum from Slytherin!”
“Rude and dirty, they don’t deserve to play Quidditch!”
“Slytherin should be disqualified!”
Cedric, being carried by the young badgers, clutched his head with one hand while holding his right leg with the other, his face twisted in pain.
Seeing this, Kyle quickly followed. From their heated conversation, it wasn’t hard to guess that Cedric had been injured—and that the Slytherin players were responsible.
Spotting Ryan and Mikel in the crowd, Kyle rushed over, patting one of them on the shoulder. “What happened on the pitch?” he asked.
Ryan, startled, turned around in surprise. “Kyle... where have you been? Why are you only just getting here?”
“The Headmaster called for me, so I went to his office,” Kyle replied briefly, before asking again, “Never mind me, how’s Cedric?”
At this, Ryan’s face flushed with anger. “It’s those shameless Slytherins again. You don’t know, Cedric was about to catch the Snitch—just a little more and we would have won. But then the Slytherin captain took advantage of Cedric focusing on the Snitch and punched him in the head, knocking him clean off his broom.”
“Yes!” Mikel added, equally outraged. “And do you know what that git said to Madam Hooch? He actually claimed he thought Cedric’s head was a Quaffle!”
“That rude, stupid, underdeveloped gorilla doesn’t deserve to play in a tournament ! He should be sent off!” Mikel fumed.
“It’s not football, Mikel,” Ryan reminded him. “You can’t send someone off in Quidditch...”
Mikel jutted his chin out stubbornly. “But it’s still unfair to just give Hufflepuff a free shot!”
As Ryan and Mikel went back and forth in their outrage, Kyle quickly pieced together what had happened. Just as he had suspected—Slytherin had resorted to dirty tactics after realizing they couldn’t win the game fairly.
Soon, the group arrived at the Hospital Wing.
“By Merlin's beard! What on earth happened!”
Madam Pomfrey was furious. “A broken nose and a complete break of the right leg. I don't understand why Hogwarts organizes such dangerous games. Every year someone is brought in, every single year...”
She wasted no time in mending Cedric's leg, casting her healing spells with practiced precision. Once his leg was set, she sent everyone else away, but kept Kyle behind. With other patients to attend to, she couldn’t watch over Cedric herself, and since she vaguely remembered Kyle, the responsibility fell to him.
As she closed the door, she muttered under her breath, complaining about the dangers of Quidditch and the incompetence of the teachers who allowed it.
Kyle sat down by Cedric’s bedside and poured him a glass of water. “How are you feeling?”
“My leg still hurts a bit,” Cedric admitted, shifting slightly in bed, “but it’s already much better.”
There was never any doubt about Madam Pomfrey's skill. If it had been Cedric’s arm instead of his leg, he would likely have been discharged already.
“It’s a pity about the game, though. We were 30 points ahead.” Cedric sighed in frustration as he sank back into his pillow. “If only I’d paid more attention to what was happening around me.”
“It’s okay, it’s just one game,” Kyle reassured him. “Winning or losing isn’t important. Besides, it’s practically Slytherin tradition to foul during the match. Even if you dodged them this time, they’d come after you again. And if you keep avoiding them, you’ll never be able to catch the Golden Snitch.”
“You’re right,” Cedric admitted, scratching his head in frustration. “But what about the rest of the games?”
Hufflepuff and Slytherin would face each other more than once during the season, and Cedric had no desire to end up in the Hospital Wing three more times.
“Don’t worry,” Kyle said after a moment’s thought. “You just focus on getting better, and leave the rest to me.”
“Wait, are you joining the Quidditch team?” Cedric asked in surprise. “What position would you play—Beater?”
Kyle snorted. “You’re thinking too much. Once the competition has started, it’s impossible for me to join, even if I wanted to, unless someone withdraws voluntarily.”
Hogwarts’ rules on Quidditch were clear: each House had only one opportunity to recruit new players, and it was limited to the second week of the school year. In reality, the captains often selected their teams by the end of the first week and submitted the names to Madam Hooch at the beginning of the second. This gave new players time to train with the team before the matches began, and saved the professors any hassle. After that, no substitutions were allowed unless a player left school, dropped out, or could no longer play for medical reasons. And Madam Hooch was firm on this.
“Then what did you mean by taking care of it? Wait, you’re not thinking of going after Slytherin, are you?” Cedric’s expression turned serious as he realized what Kyle might be implying. “Don’t do anything that breaks school rules. I just broke a leg, it’s not that serious. And you’re only a first year. Most of the Slytherin players are third years or older. They’d be happy to take you on, and Professor Snape won’t...”
“Hey, hold on a minute,” Kyle interrupted, raising an eyebrow. “What’s all this talk about first years and third years? You don’t think I’m planning to duel them, do you?”
Cedric froze. “Aren’t you?”
“You wish,” Kyle replied, giving him a disgusted look. “I think Madam Pomfrey should check your head again.”