Opening Salvo (V) (CH - 158)
Boom!
Boom!
Boom!
The second Inter-School Quidditch Tournament opened with grand fanfare.
Brilliant bursts of magical fireworks lit up the sky above Beauxbatons Academy's majestic Quidditch stadium, painting vivid streaks of color across the bright midday sky. Even the sunlight couldn't dull the enchantment that filled the air.
Olympe Maxime had spared no expense in outdoing her Scottish rivals, transforming her school's Quidditch stadium into something truly breathtaking. Elegant towers, sweeping curves, and polished stone showcased the refined beauty of French magical architecture.
Some of the entertainment choices were clearly inspired by last year's opening ceremony at Hogwarts, especially the blend of music from both the magical and Muggle worlds. Classical melodies played alongside modern beats, creating a soundscape that felt both fresh and familiar. Add to that the veela dancers gliding across floating stages with effortless grace, and it all came together in a way that felt just right.
Simply put, the whole performance was mesmerizing—no one could look away.
The stadium was packed to the brim. Witches and wizards from all across Europe had gathered, bringing with them a vibrant wave of colour, noise, and excitement that filled the air with electric anticipation.
Even in the VIP stands, the atmosphere was no less grand. Ministers, important officials, reporters from big news outlets, and a few well-known powerful mages were all there. Every seat that had been reserved was taken—none were left empty.
Since its success the year before, the tournament had become a sensation across wizarding Europe. And over the past few weeks, Maverick had pushed that momentum even further, making sure the buzz was louder than ever.
Bright banners lined the walls and towers of the stadium, each one proudly displaying the logos of the most well-known magical companies in the wizarding world.
And one name stood out above them all—Maverick's very own brand, Caesar's Magitech. Sleek, modern, and vibrant, its advertisements were designed to be impossible to miss, dazzling the crowd and catching every eye with perfect clarity.
Though Hogwarts wasn't hosting the tournament this time, Maverick still controlled nearly all the advertising space. In fact, he held a complete monopoly—until he chose to open up some spots to other companies.
It was a strategic decision. After all, having the names of other magical giants associated with the tournament would only boost its reputation.
---
The opening game saw host school Beauxbatons take on Koldovstoretz—last year's bottom and third-place finishers. But anyone who'd seen them play before could tell right away: these teams had leveled up. Their moves were sharper, their rhythm tighter, and they didn't look like underdogs anymore.
The biggest glow-up was Beauxbatons. Their passes were sharper, their formation tighter, and their Seeker—fast as a fired spell—rarely left the heart of the action. They flew like they had something to prove. Olympe Maxime hadn't just gone all out hosting the tournament—she had clearly poured just as much energy into building a squad worthy of her school's reputation.
"That girl..."
Oliver Wood frowned, eyes locked on the pitch. "She'll be a real threat to both of you."
Marcus didn't answer, but the slight crease in his brow said enough. Harry said nothing either, still watching the Beauxbatons Seeker as she darted through the air with sharp control. Oliver wasn't wrong. The way she flew… it was too clean. No wasted movements, no hesitation. Just sharp, precise control.
"Interesting..."
High above the stadium, in the tallest box overlooking the pitch, Maverick's attention was also fixed on the blonde Seeker weaving through the sky. He turned slightly toward Maxime, seated to his right, and raised an eyebrow.
"If I'm not mistaken, she... should be your apprentice?"
Maxime smiled—not the polite kind, but the proud, satisfied kind that said she already knew what he was going to say.
"What? Is there a problem?"
"Not really," Maverick hummed. "Just didn't have her down as the Quidditch type. Did you grind her all summer for this?"
He could see the woman was really proud. It might just be a Quidditch match, but this was her school. Her baby.
Last year, although no one said it to her face—well, no one would dare—having her school get knocked out first must have stung. Badly.
The half-giantess let out a soft chuckle.
"Well, I've got you to thank for that, monsieur. I also sought some outside help… a decent coach offered to train her... train the whole team, actually. And, well—" she nodded toward the pitch, "—they're not looking too bad now, are they?"
Their voices weren't loud, but they weren't trying to keep the conversation private either. Yet the real attention in the VIP box wasn't on what they were saying. It was on how they were saying it.
The young man spoke to her like an equal—sat beside her like one—and even the deans of other schools had taken their seats only after them. That alone made it clear he wasn't just some ordinary master alchemist.
What's more, she was known for being a headstrong woman who rarely gave anyone face, yet she didn't seem to mind his casualness at all.
Who was he really? What was his secret that made a speaker value him so much? The thought buzzed through the minds of everyone seated in the same stands, but no one dared to voice it aloud.
---
About an hour and a half into the game, the scores were nearly tied: 110 for Koldovstoretz and exactly 100 for Beauxbatons. Despite Beauxbatons' drastic improvement, Koldovstoretz was still the team that had given last year's champions and runners-up a hard time.
The stands suddenly roared even louder as the commentator's voice rang out. "Seems like Beauxbatons' Seeker's got her sights locked on the Snitch..."
What followed was a thrilling chase of cat and mouse—Flur Dalacore weaving through the air, eyes locked on the Snitch, and the Koldovstoretz Seeker hot on her tail.
Bludgers whipped through the air, but both Seeker and pursuer dodged them with a near-mystical grace, their movements sharp and fluid, as if they had eyes at the back of their heads. From the very first game, the audience, whether near or far, was treated to a performance so intense they almost forgot they were watching teenagers and not seasoned professionals.
The Veela half-blood moved like a breeze, her eyes locked on the Snitch as its tiny golden wings fluttered just out of reach. A blur of motion behind her told her that her opponent was right on her tail.
She twisted mid-air, banking hard to the left, narrowly avoiding a Bludger that came crashing toward her. The move sent her soaring higher, giving her a few extra seconds, but she could still hear the Koldovstoretz Seeker's broomstick screeching behind her. The two were locked in a deadly dance, neither willing to give an inch.
With a surge of speed, the Snitch flickered just ahead, almost mocking her. She darted forward, arms stretching out, fingers brushing the air just as her opponent surged to close the gap. A final, desperate grab—her fingers met the Snitch just as she was almost thrown off balance by a sharp pull from the Koldovstoretz Seeker's dive. But she didn't let go.
With a final, swift tug—
ROAAAR! The crowd leapt to their feet.
The Snitch was hers.
The stadium erupted in a deafening roar as she soared above the pitch, the gleaming golden ball held high in her hand. The Koldovstoretz Seeker, though close, had been a fraction too slow.
"AND THAT'S A WRAP, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! THE WINNER IS…
BEAUXBATONS ACADEMY OF MAGIC!"
A loud round of applause thundered through the stadium as the Beauxbatons team gathered, their cheers filling the air.
"Congratulations," Maverick said, nodding toward Maxime, who was barely holding back the grin forming across her face.
"Congratulations, Speaker..."
"Congratulations..."
"Congratulations..."
The other deans also echoed their congratulations, as did the guests seated in the same stands, all joining in to offer their praise to Olympe Maxime.
---
Just like Hogwarts did last year, Beauxbatons had set up a bunch of Floo Points for the crowd. So once the match ended, people started leaving pretty quickly, and the stadium settled down not long after.
The supporters who had come along with their school teams left as well, leaving just the players and staff behind. The players would temporarily attend classes at Beauxbatons, while the deans and accompanying staff stayed on as guests.
The accommodation arranged for each school felt more like a luxurious version of a Hogwarts common room. Each team had its own wing, complete with separate dormitories for both players and staff.
Of course, these weren't just any dormitories—Beauxbatons' hospitality did not fall short of what Hogwarts had provided the previous year. The rooms were large, spacious, and equipped with everything one could possibly need.
Before calling it a night, Steven held a quick meeting with all the players to discuss what they had learned from watching their opponents play that day. He mainly wanted to gauge their mindset after seeing how much the other team had improved.
Thanks to their training under Steven, it wasn't just their skills that had grown—their mentality had matured as well. No one was overconfident, but they weren't lacking in confidence either.
Hogwarts' match was scheduled for the next day against Durmstrang, a rematch of last year's final, and the team's mindset was in a very good place.
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