《Harry Potter: My Life as Hermione》Chapter 45: The Quidditch Match (Part I)

November 9th. Saturday.

At dawn, Professor Dumbledore received an urgent letter from the Ministry of Magic—more precisely, from the Wizengamot—summoning him to London for an emergency session.

The truth was, most wizards found the Wizengamot's position within the Ministry a bit of a mystery. Officially, it fell under the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, alongside well-known offices like the Auror Office and the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office—where Arthur Weasley, father to George and Fred, served as director.

But the Wizengamot was no ordinary department. Its members were the crème de la crème of the wizarding world: the Chief Warlock was none other than Dumbledore himself, joined by the Minister for Magic, the Deputy Minister, senior officials from every department, and a handful of the most renowned witches and wizards in Britain. It was a council of formidable power, convened to judge, deliberate, and vote on the most significant matters in the magical world.

Most importantly, the Wizengamot predated even the Ministry itself—it was one of the oldest governing bodies in wizarding history. Its authority was unique and, in many ways, transcendent.

So, when a summons arrived from the Wizengamot, there was no doubt something serious was afoot. Dumbledore wasted no time. He handed off the honor of delivering the opening speech for today's Quidditch match to Deputy Headmistress and Head of Gryffindor House, Professor McGonagall, and hurried to the Ministry's headquarters beneath Whitehall in central London—by what means, whether Floo or the infamous "toilet entrance," no one could say for certain.

…

"Ladies and gentlemen, good morning! I hereby declare the first inter-house Quidditch match of the Hogwarts academic year—officially open!" Professor McGonagall pressed her wand to her throat and cast a Sonorus Charm, her voice ringing clear across the entire Quidditch pitch.

As her brief announcement faded, a tidal wave of cheers swept through the stands.

"And now, would the players for Gryffindor and Slytherin, as well as our referee, Madam Hooch, please take the field!" she called.

Fifteen figures—fourteen players and one referee—strode out onto the pitch, broomsticks in hand.

Professor McGonagall returned to her seat.

Fweeet!

Madam Hooch blew her silver whistle. The match had begun!

The players from Gryffindor and Slytherin kicked off, soaring into the sky on their broomsticks. Madam Hooch released the Quaffle—a large, scarlet ball—two black Bludgers, and the tiny golden Snitch, its wings a blur of movement.

"Go, Gryffindor!" "Slytherin for the win!"

Roars of encouragement erupted from every corner of the stands.

…

"Hello, everyone! I'm Linda Zhu, fifth year from Hufflepuff, and your commentator number one for today's match! Hope you'll all enjoy listening!" A pretty girl with wine-red hair smiled brightly from the commentary box.

"And hi, I'm Monie Wanda, third year from Ravenclaw—commentator number two!" said a short-haired, cool-looking girl, her voice clear and lively.

The Quidditch pitch was enormous, and with players darting about at dizzying heights, even the best seats couldn't catch every detail. That's why commentators were essential. From their booth—enchanted for the best possible view and fitted with magical equipment—they could see things invisible to the naked eye.

"…And the match is off! Both teams are playing it safe for now, not rushing into any reckless moves. The Quaffle is currently in the hands of Slytherin Chaser Adrian Pucey. Pucey's got several matches' experience under his belt—he joined Slytherin's team just last year…" Linda narrated.

"That's right. Last time they played Ravenclaw, Pucey scored a beautiful goal—while our Keeper looked like he was taking a nap…" Monie added, a touch of bitterness in her tone.

Her words drew laughter from the crowd, though the Ravenclaws shot her a few dirty looks.

But, to be fair, it was true. Ravenclaw's Quidditch team had been in a slump the last couple of years, nowhere near the level of Gryffindor or Slytherin. Losses had become routine.

Still, some thought Monie was a bit much—how could she roast her own team like that?

"Now, now, Monie, let's not be too harsh. Ravenclaw put up a decent fight last match…" Linda tried to smooth things over, then deftly changed the subject. "Let's turn back to the pitch. Pucey's heading for the Gryffindor goalposts. Monie, do you think he'll score?"

"Not likely," Monie replied, shaking her head. "Gryffindor's vice-captain, Oliver Wood, is a top-class Keeper. He's pulling off a textbook double figure-eight—guarding all three hoops. You can see Pucey's hesitating, not sure which post to aim for—wait, is that Angelina Johnson from Gryffindor? What's she up to?—Angelina's dived in! She's got the Quaffle!—Wow, this girl only made the team a month ago, and she just stole the Quaffle right out of Pucey's hands!"

Just as Pucey faltered, Angelina shot forward, snatching the Quaffle. Monie, who'd been keeping her cool, suddenly sounded as excited as any first-year.

Gryffindor's stands erupted in cheers.

"She's brilliant!" Linda declared.

"No, she's brave! For a rookie to steal the ball from a seasoned player—that takes guts!" Monie said, her voice full of admiration.

"Absolutely! Quidditch is a sport for the courageous!" Linda agreed.

"Meanwhile, compared to Angelina's guts, some of those boys on the field look a bit lazy. Look at our captain, Charlie Weasley—he's just floating around up there, hunting for the Snitch."

"Er, Monie, let's not pick on Captain Weasley. The Snitch isn't exactly easy to find."

"Heh, it's fine. Charlie and I are distant cousins. He's got a great temperament—and he's single, by the way. If anyone's interested, I can set you up…"

"Monie!" Professor McGonagall, seated nearby, interjected sharply.

"Sorry, Professor!" Monie stuck out her tongue, unbothered.

Meanwhile, Angelina tore down the pitch toward the Slytherin goalposts.

But the Slytherin Chasers were right on her tail, closing in fast.

"Oh no, Angelina's in trouble…" Linda said, voice tinged with worry.

"She needs backup! There's no way she can break through all three Slytherin Chasers alone—wait, one of their Beaters is moving in!"

Before Monie could finish, a burly Slytherin Beater swooped close and smashed a Bludger toward Angelina.

The Bludger shrieked through the air, aiming straight for her.

Suddenly, a figure cut across at an angle, putting himself between Angelina and the Bludger. With a resounding crack, he sent it flying away.

"It's George Weasley—Gryffindor's Beater! He saved Angelina at the last second!" Monie shouted.

"Incredible! But Monie, how can you be sure it's George? He and his twin brother look nearly identical, and they're both Beaters for Gryffindor."

"Oh, easy. George's nose is a bit higher than Fred's, and his eyes are different sizes—one's bigger than the other. I discovered that last summer when I stayed at the Weasleys'. You might doubt me, but honestly, my eyes are like microscopes—I can spot George from a mile away!" Monie said, brimming with pride.

Professor McGonagall sighed, uncertain whether to intervene.

Up in the sky, George glanced at the commentary box, looking rather pained.

He really couldn't handle this distant cousin. She'd stirred up enough trouble at their house last summer—he and Fred had barely survived, and poor Ron still flinched at the mention of her name.

Back on the pitch, Angelina made a break for it, but her shot was blocked by the Slytherin Keeper.

Slytherin's section of the stands erupted in cheers, while Gryffindor's groaned in disappointment.

"Don't worry—focus on defense, George!" Qin Yu called as he zipped past.

"Right," George nodded, then dropped his voice. "Qin, should we try that?"

At that moment, Slytherin's Marcus Flint—a hulking, aggressive Chaser—had the Quaffle.

"Let's do it. I'll cover this side. Wait for my signal." With that, Qin Yu shot off to a strategic position.

Marcus, shielded by his fellow Chasers, formed the classic arrowhead formation as they charged the Gryffindor goalposts.

Thanks to the expert commentary from veteran Quidditch fan and second commentator, Monie Wanda, even students unfamiliar with the rules now understood: this was the infamous Hawkshead Attacking Formation.

In the Gryffindor stands—

"Excuse me! Pardon me! Coming through!" Hagrid's massive frame squeezed through the crowd.

"Hagrid! Over here!" Elvis called, waving him over.

After that "candy party" a while back, all of Qin Yu's roommates were on friendly terms with Hagrid, and greeted him enthusiastically.

"Hagrid, what took you so long?" Jimmy asked, curious.

"Had a bit of business in the Forbidden Forest this morning," Hagrid replied.

"Something happen to the unicorns?" Wilson asked, a hint of worry in his voice.

"Oh, no, it was the centaurs this time. Something's up with them. I went to ask, but they chased me off," Hagrid said, shaking his head.

He grumbled, "Not that I want to get mixed up in their affairs. Centaurs have tempers worse than a Hungarian Horntail."

"Just ignore them, then! Come watch the match with us. Hagrid, help us hold up the banner!" Elvis said.

"Gladly!" Hagrid boomed.

He took the banner from Elvis and held it high above his head, grinning as wide as the Quidditch pitch itself.

~~~❃❃~~~~~~~~❃❃~~~

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