The following evening, to celebrate Cedric's discharge from the hospital, the Hufflepuff Quidditch team threw him a small party in the common room after their training session. Cedric was doing well, which was excellent news for the team, and their captain, Harris, had even managed to bring back some Butterbeer from Hogsmeade Village to share with everyone. Mainly, though, he wanted a drink for himself.
As captain, Harris was under tremendous pressure. Ever since the first round of matches, he had been losing hair by the handful. The competition was fierce. Gryffindor had a top-tier team, with hardly any weaknesses. Slytherin, well-equipped and notorious for bending the rules, made them a nightmare to play against. And Ravenclaw, though often underestimated, was a strong, well-balanced team.
For Hufflepuff, Cedric, their talented Seeker, was almost their only hope of winning the championship.
Harris lifted his Butterbeer and clinked glasses with Cedric. “Don’t worry, it won’t happen again. I’m going to assign one of the Beaters to protect you. Next time Slytherin tries anything dirty, that Beater’s bat will land on their face first.”
Cedric frowned, clearly not thrilled with the idea. There were only two Beaters on the team, and if one of them was assigned to protect him, it would leave the Chasers at a disadvantage. If the other team built up too big of a lead, even catching the Golden Snitch might not be enough to win. After mulling it over, Cedric decided the plan wasn't worth the risk.
He explained his concerns to Harris.
“Don’t worry about that,” Harris replied, after thinking it over. “This is just a preliminary plan. We can tweak it during our training sessions.”
Cedric tried several more times to convince Harris to drop the idea, but no matter how well he argued, Harris always responded with the same line: “We’ll talk about it after the training match.”
Realizing that Harris wasn’t going to budge, Cedric gave up for now. Fine, he thought, we’ll see what happens after the training match.
Kyle, who wasn’t part of the team, also attended the feast but didn’t have to worry about any of the tactical discussions. Instead, he simply focused on enjoying the food. He was tempted to try some Butterbeer, but before he could reach for a mug, an older student stopped him, reminding him that under-fifth-years weren’t allowed to drink. That put a damper on Kyle’s excitement, but there wasn’t much he could do about it. Even Cedric, the guest of honor, was drinking pumpkin juice instead.
Once the feast ended, everyone headed back to their dormitories.
The following days unfolded like any other. Kyle attended classes, ate meals, and spent time in the library doing his homework, just like the rest of the young wizards. It was as if the party and all the earlier drama had never happened. Even Fred and George, notorious for their pranks, seemed to have calmed down a bit. They had only lost Gryffindor ten points in the past few days, much to Professor McGonagall's delight. She had stopped being as strict with them, and the atmosphere in the school seemed more relaxed.
This peace lasted until mid-November, when the second Quidditch match of the season arrived.
It was a weekend, and early that morning, a rumor began to spread through Hogwarts like wildfire.
“Have you heard? There’s a new broom on the Gryffindor team.”
In the Great Hall, a Slytherin first-year eagerly shared what he had just overheard.
“A new broom?” Sevyn Rosier, the seventh-year Slytherin team captain, scowled as he heard the news. His team was set to face Gryffindor in the afternoon, and the idea of Gryffindor getting an advantage from a new broom just before the match wasn’t sitting well with him.
But the news got worse.
“I heard it’s not just any broom. It’s the Nimbus 2000, and it hasn’t even been released yet.”
“Nimbus 2000?!” someone gasped in disbelief. “That’s impossible! My uncle works in the Department of Magical Games and Sports at the Ministry of Magic, and even he can’t get his hands on a Nimbus 2000. How would the Gryffindors get one?”
At this, another student chimed in, “I heard Bill Weasley brought it back from Egypt. Apparently, he did Nimbus Racing Broom Company a huge favor once.”
“Damn Weasley,” someone muttered, slamming their fist on the table. “What does this mean for the match? The Nimbus 2000’s performance has to be miles ahead of the Nimbus 1700 we’re using.”
The Slytherin who had first spoken stood up abruptly. “I’m going to write to my uncle and see if he can get us a Nimbus 2000 too.”
“Will it arrive in time?” another student asked, sounding skeptical.
“It should be fine,” he replied.
Next to them, the Slytherin team members wore dark, brooding expressions after hearing the news, their meals left unfinished. Rosier, their captain, was especially furious. He slammed his fist on the table, knocking his plate over in frustration. "Damn it, why now of all times?" he growled.
Slytherin and Gryffindor had been bitter rivals for as long as anyone could remember, and Rosier couldn't bear the thought of losing to Gryffindor in a match—especially not .
“Don’t panic just yet,” one of his teammates said, trying to sound calm. “The news hasn’t been confirmed. The Nimbus 2000 isn’t some toy they can just hand out to anyone. Besides, this came out of nowhere—it could just be a rumor to throw us off...”
Before he could finish, a collective gasp rose from the Great Hall. Heads turned toward the entrance.
As if mocking Rosier’s words, six long-eared owls swooped in, carrying an elongated package and landing right on the Gryffindor table. From the shape of the package, it was unmistakable—a broomstick.
Even though it was tightly wrapped, everyone could tell that it was longer than a Nimbus 1700, and its design was unlike any of the brooms currently available on the market. The Weasley twins eagerly grabbed the package, grinning from ear to ear, and began talking excitedly with their teammates.
Though it was difficult to hear what they were saying from across the hall, the excitement on the Gryffindor side was palpable. Their Quidditch players exchanged glances, their eyes gleaming with excitement—and maybe even a hint of smugness.
Rosier’s face twisted into a grimace as he watched them, feeling as though their excitement was a direct taunt aimed at him and his team. His frustration boiled over, and, with no food left on his own plate to flip in anger, he instead knocked over the plate of a nearby first-year who was unfortunate enough to be sitting next to him.
"Everyone, go find out what's going on," Rosier ordered through clenched teeth. "We need to know if that broom is really the Nimbus 2000."
"And what if it is?" someone asked nervously.
“Then write home and get one for yourself!” Rosier snapped, his temper flaring. “What are you waiting for? Go!”
The Slytherin team members scattered at his command. Other Slytherins in the hall, noticing the tension, quietly slipped out as well. No one wanted to stick around and risk being the next target of Rosier’s foul mood.