Chapter 299: Magic Defeats Magic

Kyle got up early on Saturday morning, eager to watch the upcoming Quidditch match. This season's schedule wasn't favorable to Gryffindor—they had to face the fully-equipped Slytherin team right from the start. A lineup with all Nimbus 2001s... they might as well be up against a professional team. Given this, it was no wonder the Gryffindors were feeling low; even Fred and George didn't seem in the mood for jokes.

When Kyle arrived in the Great Hall, he found the Gryffindor players clustered together around their long, empty table, looking tense and unusually quiet. Unsure what to say, he simply hurried over and gave both Fred and George a supportive pat on the shoulder as they were getting ready to head to the Quidditch Pitch.

"Come on, if you win, you won't have to do that tap-dancing flight around the castle again," he said.

Fred and George had been looking for an excuse to get out of that bet all year, especially with that shiny Order of Merlin medallions to his name, yet they still hadn't followed through.

The main issue was the absurdity of the moves they had planned—balancing three trophies on their heads while tap-dancing on a broomstick wasn't just tricky; it bordered on impossible. Even managing one of those feats would have been a stretch, let alone both.

Fred's eyes brightened. "Really?"

"Of course, it's a deal," Kyle laughed.

"Honestly, your pep talks work way better than Wood's," George said, leaning over. "All he ever does is repeat the same stuff."

George cleared his throat and mimicked Oliver Wood's voice with a grand gesture. "'Slytherin's broomsticks may be better than ours, but the players on our broomsticks are better than theirs...'"

"As if that isn't the most obvious thing... and he's our captain?"

"But he is the captain," Fred shrugged. "We've got to go along with it."

With that, they began joking about Oliver from both sides, and their earlier dejected expressions disappeared entirely. Kyle even suspected they might've put on that sad act just to set him up for his comment.

"Hey, Kyle, your face says exactly what you're thinking," George said, raising an eyebrow. "But we weren't faking…"

"We really were nervous..."

"Worried about losing the match…"

"Until we put these on…" Fred patted the scarlet and gold of his team jersey.

"And then we decided that if we win this time,"

"We'll celebrate the same way…"

"Not because of a bet, just to celebrate!"

With that, Fred and George laughed as they headed toward the Changing Rooms, and Kyle made his way to the stands. Cedric had already saved him a seat.

"What's the verdict?" Cedric asked.

"They seem pretty confident," Kyle replied with a grin.

"Good." Cedric nodded. Down by the players' tunnel, Oliver Wood was leading out the rest of the team. "Actually, I spoke with Hannah and Susan from the second year yesterday…" Cedric said, glancing toward the Slytherin lineup across the field, "and they both told me Draco Malfoy did poorly in flying lessons compared to Potter."

"Not surprising," Kyle said. "If he could actually fly, there'd be no need to buy brooms for the whole team… Nimbus 2001s are outrageously expensive, and buying seven at once isn't exactly within reach for most people, even the Malfoys."

"Exactly," Mikel chimed in, pushing his way into the conversation. "Apparently, Malfoy's allowance was cut in half because of those broomsticks."

"If that's the case, then Malfoy definitely bought his way onto the team," Cedric said, giving Mikel a skeptical look. "But how do you even know that?"

"Oh, I overheard him say it himself." Mikel patted his pocket absentmindedly, which was bulging with something.

As the boys chatted, the match was about to begin. "On my whistle," called Madam Hooch. "Three, two, one..."

The crowd erupted in cheers as the fourteen players soared into the gray sky. Harry quickly rose to the highest point, his gaze scanning for the Golden Snitch.

But Malfoy was behaving differently. Instead of searching for the Snitch, he seemed focused solely on Harry, flying beside him as if he were showing off. His behavior was oddly reminiscent of a Fwooper in a courtship display.

And this continued for the first five minutes.

"What on earth is Malfoy doing?" Cedric muttered, frowning. "He's a Seeker... Does he think Potter's hiding the Golden Snitch in his top pocket?"

Cedric grimaced, unable to keep watching as the Bludgers whizzed dangerously close to both players. Harry quickly swerved to avoid them, but as the Bludgers missed him, they zoomed directly toward Malfoy.

As the Bludger barreled closer, Malfoy seemed rooted to the spot, his face pale with disbelief. Seekers were supposed to watch out for Bludgers only when they were trying to catch the Snitch, weren't they? But the match had barely started, and there wasn't a Snitch in sight!

The Bludger loomed larger and larger until it was nearly upon him, and Malfoy instinctively squeezed his eyes shut, bracing himself for impact. Yet, just as it was an inch from his face, the Bludger veered off course and hurtled straight back toward Harry.

Harry dodged again, but the Bludger honed in on him once more, as though it had a mind of its own, refusing to pursue anyone else. Fred and George, noticing this, quickly flew to Harry's side, doing their best to shield him from the rogue Bludger.

Then, the rain started to fall.

"Someone's tampered with the Bludger!" Fred shouted as he knocked it away again.

The spectators in the stands began to realize something was amiss.

"Marcus Flint scores... Slytherin leads, 50-0," announced Lee Jordan from the commentary stand. "But what's going on with that Bludger? How many Galleons does Harry Potter owe it…?"

Wood signaled to Madam Hooch.

"Finally, Oliver Wood has called a timeout!" Lee announced. "Frankly, he should've done that ages ago... ideally before Harry Potter's skull became the Bludger's personal target!"

The Gryffindor team huddled together to discuss a solution, while in the stands, Kyle—donning his waterproof and moisture-proof badge—searched the rain-swept field intently for something. Eventually, he spotted a faint, short figure lurking in the Slytherin players' tunnel.

"Excuse me," Kyle muttered as he pushed through the crowd. But instead of heading toward the Slytherin tunnel, he sprinted in the direction of the castle.

A few minutes later, Kyle returned, accompanied by a House-elf from the kitchen. The game had resumed, with the Bludger still relentlessly chasing Harry around the pitch.

"Kaka, do you recognize that House-elf?" Kyle pointed to the tunnel. "It looks like it's controlling the Bludger somehow."

"Kaka doesn't know it, sir!" the House-elf shrieked. "It's not from the kitchen staff..."

"Bad elf, a very bad elf! Kaka will handle it!"

As Kaka glanced up at the crazed Bludger still streaking across the sky, its large ears turned red—whether from fury or something else, Kyle couldn't tell. With a sharp pop, Kaka vanished from sight.

A moment later, a small stool came tumbling out of the tunnel.

Simultaneously, the Bludger that had been trailing Harry abruptly changed course, hurtling straight toward Marcus Flint instead. Having watched the Bludger doggedly pursue Harry up until now, the Slytherin captain assumed it would continue to do so and didn't even attempt to dodge.

Bang!

The Bludger smashed into Flint's face with a sickening thud. His eyes rolled back as he lost consciousness, slipping from his broom.

In the stands, Professor McGonagall reacted swiftly, raising her wand to keep Flint from hitting the ground directly.