England vs. Ireland: Ezekiel’s World Cup Debut
The sun had barely risen when the England National Team gathered inside the stadium's locker room, preparing for their first World Cup match against Ireland.
Outside, the roar of thousands of spectators filled the air, the sound echoing through the enchanted structure. Banners of green and gold waved in support of Ireland, while red and white flared in defiance for England.
Ezekiel sat on the bench, calmly wrapping his gloves, his expression unreadable. Beside him, Roger Davies bounced his knee in anticipation.
"Nervous?" Ezekiel asked, fastening his broom harness.
"Hell yes," Roger admitted. "It's the bloody Quidditch World Cup, Ez. This isn't some league match. We're up against some of the best Chasers in the world."
Ezekiel smirked. "Then let's make sure they remember us."
Their coach, a seasoned former player, clapped his hands. "Alright, listen up! Ireland is fast, aggressive, and brutal in their offense. But we have Malverne and Davies—two of the best Chasers in the game. Play smart, play fast, and let's send those Irish boys home crying!"
The team cheered as they grabbed their brooms and made their way to the tunnel.
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As they stepped onto the field, Ezekiel felt the energy of the crowd hit him like a tidal wave.
The stadium was packed, floating cameras zooming in on the players. In the VIP stands, he spotted Daphne and Fleur, both watching intently. Daphne wore an England scarf, while Fleur, despite being French, seemed more focused on Ezekiel than the game itself.
"And now, ladies and gentlemen!" the announcer's voice boomed across the stadium. "The moment you've all been waiting for—the start of the Quidditch World Cup! It's England versus Ireland!"
The crowd erupted in chants of "England! England!" shaking the stadium.
On the opposite side, Ireland's team stood with confidence. Their Chasers, led by Aidan Lynch, looked ready for war.
The referee raised his whistle. "Mount your brooms!"
Ezekiel swung his leg over his Nimbus Tempest, a custom broom designed for speed and agility. His hands gripped the handle, his focus razor-sharp.
"Three… Two… One…"
The whistle pierced the air, and the game exploded into action.
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The Quaffle was released, and immediately, Ireland's Chasers sprinted forward, moving like a well-oiled machine.
Roger intercepted a pass, flipping the ball to Ezekiel, who swerved through two Irish players. The moment he crossed midfield, a Bludger came rocketing toward his head.
Ezekiel rolled midair, narrowly dodging the iron ball before passing the Quaffle back to Roger.
"Malverne already showing his incredible agility!" the announcer yelled. "That was inches from a knockout!"
Ezekiel and Roger executed a quick give-and-go, completely bypassing Ireland's midfielders. As they closed in on the goal, an Irish Keeper moved to block.
Instead of shooting, Ezekiel faked right, then looped the Quaffle behind his back—a no-look pass to Roger, who scored flawlessly.
"AND THAT'S A SCORE FOR ENGLAND!"
The stadium erupted as England took an early lead.
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Despite England's strong start, Ireland wasn't backing down.
Aidan Lynch, their captain, slammed his shoulder into Ezekiel as they raced for the Quaffle.
"Keep up, Malverne," Lynch taunted as he snatched the ball.
Ezekiel grinned. "You talk too much."
The next time Ezekiel got the ball, Lynch barreled straight at him, trying to knock him off balance. Instead of dodging, Ezekiel ducked low and spun, using his broom's agility to slip past the Irish captain.
With a flick of his wrist, he sent the Quaffle straight through the hoop.
"And another goal for England! Malverne is absolutely dominating this match!"
Lynch scowled. It was clear—he was losing his cool.
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As the match dragged on, England maintained a lead, but Ireland's Seeker was hunting the Snitch.
Ezekiel caught sight of Viktor Krum in the stands, watching the match closely. It was obvious—Krum was analyzing his playstyle.
But Ezekiel had no time to think about that.
With Ireland closing the gap, the match became a brutal back-and-forth. Ezekiel took two Bludger hits, one nearly knocking him off his broom, but he refused to slow down.
Finally, England's Seeker spotted the Snitch, diving at full speed.
Lynch, desperate, fouled Ezekiel midair, grabbing his jersey. The referee blew the whistle, but the damage was done—Ezekiel was sent spinning uncontrollably.
But he wasn't done.
Instead of fighting the spin, Ezekiel used the momentum, flipping upside down before hurling the Quaffle with incredible force.
The ball pierced through the hoop just as the Snitch was caught.
The whistle blew for the final time.
"ENGLAND WINS!"
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The stadium exploded in cheers, and England's players rushed to celebrate.
Ezekiel, panting heavily, landed near the VIP stands, where Daphne and Fleur were waiting.
Daphne smirked. "You look like you got hit by a train."
"Close enough," he chuckled, wiping sweat from his forehead.
Fleur kissed him on the cheek. "Magnifique, mon amour. You were incredible."
Before he could respond, a reporter pushed forward, microphone in hand.
"Ezekiel Malverne! You dominated today's match! Do you have anything to say to Viktor Krum, who was watching?"
Ezekiel turned toward the Bulgarian Seeker, who was still observing him with his usual stoic expression.
He smirked. "I hope he's paying attention. Because when we meet in the finals… I won't hold back."
The crowd roared, the tension already building for the inevitable showdown.
The Quidditch World Cup had only just begun—and Ezekiel was already making waves.
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