《Harry Potter: My Life as Hermione》Chapter 46: The Quidditch Match (Part II)

Qin Yu gripped the handle of his broom tightly, steering it toward the position he'd chosen in advance.

He hovered at a diagonal to Gryffindor's goalposts, not far from Oliver Wood. From here, Qin Yu could clearly see the lines of worry creasing Wood's face.

And no wonder—the situation was dire for Gryffindor. The Quaffle was now in the hands of Marcus Flint, Slytherin's notorious bruiser.

"…With support from two Slytherin Chasers, Marcus is charging straight for Gryffindor's goal! Let's look at Gryffindor's response—two Chasers are closing in from either side, trying to cut him off… Angelina's diving in from above! Gryffindor's going for a Parkin's Pincer—this is an all-out assault—oh! What a shame! Angelina Johnson's just been sent flying by Marcus—aggressive play, but it didn't pay off!" Monie Wanda called from the commentary box.

"Monie, is that a foul?" Linda Zhu asked, curiosity piqued.

"If Madam Hooch didn't call it, it's considered a legal defensive collision," Monie explained briskly.

"I see… Things are looking rough for Gryffindor," Linda said, worry clear in her voice.

After that brutal hit, Angelina struggled to keep control of her broom, wobbling dangerously as she dropped toward the ground.

Luckily, Charlie Weasley, still searching fruitlessly for the Golden Snitch, dove just in time to steady her descent.

Meanwhile, Qin Yu simply watched the play unfold, making no move to assist—even as the short-haired commentator took a jab: "Looks like Gryffindor's Beaters are just up there enjoying the scenery." He remained perfectly still, hovering in place.

As for Gryffindor's other Beater, George Weasley, he was on the move—but not toward Marcus. Instead, he was drifting to Marcus's blind spot.

This maneuver left Slytherin's Beaters momentarily puzzled. Then they smirked, clearly deciding George had given up—after all, no one seemed able to stop Marcus Flint's relentless charge.

And sure enough, Marcus bowled past another desperate Gryffindor Chaser, closing in on the goalposts.

"…Why isn't Keeper Oliver Wood sticking with his usual double figure-eight defense?" Linda wondered aloud.

"Because Marcus isn't Adrian Pucey—he's too strong for that. The double figure-eight would only wear Wood out and leave gaps for Marcus to exploit. That's why Wood's focusing on the center hoop, ready to dive wherever he needs to," Monie explained, sharp as ever.

"Gryffindor's in real trouble now…" Linda sighed.

"Yeah, I don't see Wood stopping this one…" Monie agreed.

The tension in the stands was palpable. Gryffindor supporters were on the edge of their seats, watching Marcus barrel down on their Keeper. The Slytherin crowd, meanwhile, was already cheering, first-years like Jerome screaming themselves hoarse.

Marcus surged forward, unstoppable, the Gryffindor Chasers left in his wake. Even Charlie Weasley, after rescuing Angelina, couldn't close the distance, forced to keep an eye on Slytherin's Seeker instead.

…

"…Looks like this goal's as good as lost," Professor Swenton murmured to Snape.

Snape shot him a withering look.

"I was testing a new alchemy formula and lost track of time," Swenton said with a shrug. "You know how picky those runes can be… Anyway, how's Qin doing in his first official match? Did I miss anything?"

"He's spent the whole game sightseeing," Professor Snape replied in his trademark icy drawl, echoing the commentator's words.

Of course, he didn't believe for a second that Qin was just daydreaming. If anything, Snape was watching with a mixture of suspicion and anticipation—he'd known this boy long enough to expect something cunning.

"Heh, sightseeing…" Swenton repeated, amused. He'd sooner believe Snape would don a dress and makeup than believe Qin was playing it straight.

The thought made Swenton glance sidelong at Snape, who, sensing the look, turned and fixed him with a glare cold enough to freeze lava.

Swenton immediately banished the mental image. After all, there were spells for reading minds—and others for ending them.

While the professors bantered, the game shifted.

"…Marcus is closing in, ready to shoot. This looks all but certain—wait, what's George doing? He's flying away? Go after Marcus, you—sorry, Professor McGonagall, I'll watch my language," Monie blurted, reining herself in under McGonagall's stern gaze.

"Monie, I think George might have a plan…" Linda offered.

"Plan? Please. If he's not causing trouble, he's up to nothing," Monie scoffed, as if she knew him better than anyone.

Marcus, now at the posts, slowed, steadying himself. No one could touch him. He even glanced back at the Gryffindor defenders, sneering in open contempt. (Note: Carrying the Quaffle through the hoop is a foul—a Chaser must shoot from outside the goal ring.)

Wood's face was grim, every muscle tensed.

Marcus feinted left, then right, trying to confuse Wood. Wood tracked him, but it was impossible to guess which hoop he'd aim for.

After a few seconds, Marcus suddenly lunged left, ready to shoot.

Wood dove, but he was a split second too late.

"George!"

A voice rang out across the pitch.

CRACK! A Bludger, struck with all of George's might, rocketed across the sky—not at Marcus, but straight toward Qin Yu, who was still hovering at his post.

"What's he doing…?" Linda gasped.

All around the stands, confusion rippled. Was George sabotaging his own teammate? After all, Qin had barely moved all match—maybe this was payback?

But those who'd seen Qin's tryouts, or understood Quidditch tactics, exchanged knowing looks. Professor McGonagall arched an eyebrow.

Snape let out a soft, ambiguous grunt.

The Bludger, propelled by George's swing, screamed through the air—covering dozens of meters in a heartbeat, heading right for Qin Yu.

But Qin didn't flinch. He met the Bludger's furious charge with a calm, steady gaze.

Then, in one fluid motion, he raised his bat high and brought it down with all his strength.

BANG!

The impact echoed across the stadium, the sound reaching the crowd a heartbeat after the swing.

The Bludger's trajectory changed in a blink—veering at an almost 135-degree angle, now hurtling straight for Marcus Flint.

Their strategy was revealed—Gryffindor's feint had worked.

Slytherin's players, focused on everyone but Qin, realized too late what was happening. They could only watch as the Bludger streaked toward Marcus.

Marcus, poised to shoot, never saw it coming. With a shriek, the Bludger slammed into his side like a cannonball, nearly knocking him off his broom.

"Argh!" Marcus howled, twisting in midair.

The Quaffle slipped from his grasp.

Slytherin's star Chaser, Marcus Flint, was struck down just before the goal.

The stadium exploded.

"Merlin's beard! That was a Dopplebeater Defence!!! What did I just witness?! Qin and George just pulled off a Dopplebeater Defence! Absolutely brilliant! To see such a spectacular tactic in a Hogwarts match—I'm speechless! Incredible!" Monie Wanda was nearly shrieking with excitement. "And Wood—he's already caught the Quaffle Marcus dropped, holding it tight! Look at that smile he's giving Qin—three parts fondness, seven parts pure admiration! It's just—just adorable—"

"Monie! Mind your commentary!" Professor McGonagall interrupted, voice sharp.

"It's true though—well, I mean, their teamwork is so seamless, it must come from hours of practice! It's the kind of bond anyone would envy!" Monie tried to recover, though her enthusiasm still blazed.

But the crowd was already swept up in her excitement.

"Qin! Qin! Qin!"

"Wood! Wood! Wood!"

And plenty of shouts for "Weasley!" too.

The three of them were heroes of the moment, and the stadium roared their names.

Qin Yu and George soared through the air, exultant in their victory.

…

"It's just one intercepted goal. No need to get carried away," Snape said coldly.

As Slytherin Head of House, he wore his disappointment openly.

"Oh? Do you really think that was just a simple interception?" Swenton replied, a sly grin on his lips.

"Kindly shut your mouth," Snape snapped, more irritable than ever.

Of course, he knew it was more than that.

Gryffindor's calculated ambush hadn't just stopped Marcus from scoring—it had rattled him, injured him, and, most importantly, shattered Slytherin's confidence. With their captain shaken, the team's morale plummeted. How could they hope to recover?

…

The rest of the match unfolded just as Snape and many others expected. Slytherin played defensively, their earlier aggression gone. Marcus, stubbornly staying on the field, bellowed orders, but nothing could restore his team's spirit.

And Qin Yu—now a force of nature—wielded his bat with ferocity, becoming Slytherin's worst nightmare. Even the Slytherin Seeker, usually safe from attack, took a few hits—thanks to a reckless Wronski Feint that nearly sent Charlie nose-first into the ground. Qin Yu chased him halfway around the pitch in retaliation.

"…Qin hits Marcus again! Look at Marcus—he's a mess, but give him credit, he's hanging in there! Qin's agility and precision are on full display! Let's listen to the crowd—what are they chanting?" Monie Wanda cupped her hand to her ear.

"Qin is the king! Qin is the king! Qin is the king!"

The chant started in the Gryffindor stands, swelling until it echoed across the entire pitch—everywhere but Slytherin's section.

It was the same phrase Hagrid had painted on his banner, the one Elvis wrote during Qin's tryouts. Now, the whole school was shouting it.

"They're chanting, 'Qin is the king!'" Linda Zhu said, swept up in the excitement.

"That's right—Qin is the king of the pitch! Qin is our king!" Monie bellowed, her voice ringing with pride.

"Qin is our king!"

The cheer rolled through the stands like thunder.

Soaking in the roar, Qin Yu felt a rush of exhilaration.

He would never pretend these things meant nothing to him. In truth, living boldly and freely was exactly why he'd chosen to live again. He relished every moment of this wild, joyful chaos.

"My king!" George swooped over, pressing his right hand to his heart and bowing with mock solemnity.

Qin Yu rolled his eyes and shot back, "Alright, let's keep pushing—let's widen the gap so much Charlie won't even have to bother."

If they could stretch the lead to more than 150 points, who'd care about catching the Snitch?

"Heh, if Charlie heard that, he'd be furious," George snickered.

"I think he'd be relieved!" Qin Yu grinned, then leaned low over his broom and shot forward.

George whooped and tore after him.

— Dimensional Wall —

Author's Note: This chapter took me two days to finish. I pored over the original books and tactical references, hoping to make the Quidditch match feel as real as possible. My skill is limited, but I did my best. I know Quidditch scenes aren't always popular, but come on—it's Quidditch! How could the Harry Potter world not have it? Thank you all for your continued support! Bows deeply!

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