The Quidditch pitch buzzed with energy, the chill October air alive with shouts, cheers, and the fluttering of enchanted house banners. A green serpent the size of a Hippogriff coiled and hissed above the Slytherin stands, while a giant badger pawed the air over the Hufflepuff side, its yellow-and-black fur shimmering in the light.
Down on the pitch, the teams were lining up.
"Here they come!" Felix cried, standing on his toes to get a better view as a blur of green robes streaked out of the players' tunnel.
"Slytherin's lineup this year is brutal," Andrew muttered, squinting toward the team as they hovered in formation.
"I see Carrow leading the charge," Felix said, wrinkling his nose. "Looks like he's put on even more muscle since last spring. Merlin help whoever he aims a Bludger at."
Amycus Carrow, Slytherin's captain and a brick wall of a Chaser, led his team onto the field with a smug wave to the crowd. Flanking him were his fellow Chasers Simon Avery, tall and scowling, and a wiry second-year with sharp eyes and windswept dark hair.
"Wait, is that Evan Rosier?" Pandora asked, leaning forward with interest. "I didn't know he made the team."
"Must've impressed during tryouts," Severus murmured. "He's aggressive likes to cut low and fast. Difficult to mark."
"Very Slytherin of him," Petunia muttered, smirking.
Next came the Beaters: Jonathan Goyle, whose bulk made his bat look like a toothpick, and Thomas Selwyn, who wore an easy grin that belied the way he swung like a troll. And finally
"There he is!" Petunia said, spotting a smaller figure soaring behind the others, moving with effortless grace. "Regulus!"
Draped in green robes too big in the shoulders, Regulus Black flew with an uncanny calmness, circling the pitch like he was born in the air. His sleek broomstick likely a Cleansweep caught the light as he banked sharply and joined the lineup.
just as a fresh wave of cheers rose from the opposite end of the stands.
From the southern tunnel, a stream of yellow and black burst forth, the Hufflepuff team soaring into view with the wind at their backs and determination etched into every line of their formation. Their entrance wasn't as showy as Slytherin's there were no smug waves or theatrical swoops ..
Severus leaned slightly forward, arms crossed, his gaze sharp and analytical. "That's Gareth Woodcroft leading them," he said, voice low but certain. "Seventh-year. Chaser and captain. Doesn't waste movement, and he's annoyingly consistent."
"Very annoyingly," Felix chimed in, already bouncing on the balls of his feet. "But you have to admit, he's good. Calm under pressure, almost never drops a pass."
He pointed next as two Chasers flanked Woodcroft. "There's Nia Dobbins sixth-year. She's brilliant. Light as air and faster than anyone gives her credit for. Always a step ahead."
Severus nodded slightly. "She's the one who set up that four-pass goal chain against Gryffindor last year. Smart flyer."
"And behind her that's Miles Appleton," Felix added, grinning now. "Fifth-year. He's like a snitch himself. Unpredictable as hell, and that makes him dangerous."
Severus tilted his chin toward the back. "Beaters Toby Flume and Lenora Hobbs. Flume hits like a charging troll. Not subtle. Hobbs she's sharp. Tracks Bludgers like they insulted her personally."
"Lenora nearly took off Gideon Prewett's head last spring," Felix said cheerfully. "It was beautiful."
"And their Keeper?" Emmeline asked, squinting toward the distant yellow robes guarding the hoops.
"That's Isla Taylor," Severus supplied. "Sixth-year. Quiet. Efficient. Barely moves until she has to, and then she's just... there. Like she Apparates in front of the Quaffle."
And then, almost last, came a figure who drew an extra cheer from the Hufflepuff stands: Amos Diggory. The fourth-year Seeker's broom dipped in and out of the formation as he soared higher above the others, cutting smooth curves through the sky with a natural grace. His golden hair shimmered in the sun, and his eyes were already scanning the pitch for signs of the Snitch, even though the game hadn't begun.
And then, almost last, came a figure who drew an extra cheer from the Hufflepuff stands: Amos Diggory. The fourth-year Seeker's broom dipped in and out of the formation as he soared higher above the others, cutting smooth curves through the sky with a natural grace. His golden hair shimmered in the sun, and his eyes were already scanning the pitch for signs of the Snitch, even though the game hadn't begun.
"Oh," Emmeline said, perking up suddenly. "Amos is on the team too?"
Severus glanced sideways at her, one brow arched. "You know Amos Diggory?"
Emmeline and Pandora exchanged matching mischievous smiles.
"Well—not really," Emmeline replied airily. "We just... met him the other day."
Pandora nodded, a twinkle in her eye. "He gave Petunia a flower."
I groaned and rolled my eyes. "It was a sunflower," Pandora added sweetly. "Really pretty one."
Severus blinked, then frowned slightly as he turned back to the pitch. "\ He's not that good," he muttered, tone clipped. "I think Regulus will win."
The referee whistle that could pierce through solid wood blew sharply, and fourteen players kicked off from the ground. A roar rose from the stands as brooms soared skyward, scattering autumn leaves into the air like confetti.
"And they're off!" Felix cried, already gripping the railing in front of him. "Come on, come on—don't drop it, Gareth—yes!"
Gareth Woodcroft had taken early possession of the Quaffle and darted forward, weaving between Goyle and Selwyn with practiced ease. He passed to Nia Dobbins, who ducked under Carrow's broad shoulder and zigzagged through a narrow gap.
"They're quick," Andrew muttered, impressed. "Too quick."
But the Slytherin defense wasn't idle.
Selwyn shot upward suddenly, narrowly missing Nia with a Bludger, and Goyle swung low, forcing her into a last-minute pass to Miles Appleton, who caught the Quaffle with one hand and tucked it under his arm.
"Miles is going for it!" Emmeline said excitedly, standing now.
Miles zipped forward with the grace of a dragonfly, dipping and feinting so hard that even the enchanted cameras tracking the match had trouble following him.
"Oh, I like this one," Pandora said, delighted. "He's all chaos."
But just as Miles closed in on the goal hoops, Isla Taylor ready in the distance, Amycus Carrow intercepted him with a brutal shoulder-check that sent Miles spinning. The Quaffle flew loose and into the waiting hands of Simon Avery, who whipped it downfield with a ferocious speed.
"Brutal foul!" Felix shouted. "Come on, Madam Hooch, that was a blatant elbow—"
"No whistle," Severus said calmly, eyes narrowed. "Slytherin plays the edge. She won't call it unless it draws blood."
Slytherin transitioned with terrifying efficiency.
Avery passed to Rosier, who tucked low and sliced through the air like a thrown blade. Rosier angled upward and faked left only to hand it off to Carrow, who hurled the Quaffle past Isla Taylor with a resounding whump.
"AND THAT'S TEN TO SLYTHERIN!" boomed the voice of Melanie Higgson, a sixth-year Hufflepuff perched high in the announcer's booth,
Groans and cheers broke out in equal measure.
"Ugh," Emmeline moaned. "That was way too fast."
"They're brutal this year," Andrew muttered again.
The match surged forward at a breakneck pace.
Bludgers zoomed like cannonballs. Lenora Hobbs batted one away from Nia with a grunt, spinning her bat like a baton. Goyle took a hit to the shoulder and growled something too impolite to repeat. Woodcroft managed a tight loop around Selwyn and scored, evening the score but Carrow answered with another goal a minute later, and Rosier put in a second shortly after.
Petunia leaned forward, squinting toward the sky. "Where's Regulus? I can't find him."
"There," Severus pointed. "Far left he's tailing Amos."
Sure enough, high above the main action, Regulus Black flew with eerie calm, matching every twist and rise Amos Diggory made. Where Amos's flying was energetic, darting and eager, Regulus looked like he was simply gliding watching. Waiting.
"Regulus isn't chasing the Snitch yet," Felix noted. "He's tracking Amos instead."
"Smart," Pandora said. "Let Amos exhaust himself doing the work."
And on the pitch below, exhaustion was setting in.
The score was now 40–30, Slytherin in the lead, and both teams were playing dirty. Woodcroft took a Bludger to the leg and barely stayed upright. Hobbs was circling like a hawk, snapping orders at Flume and nearly colliding with a goalpost in the process. Nia Dobbins managed a brilliant reverse pass that set Miles up for a clean goal, and the Hufflepuff stands erupted.
But then—
"Bludger!" Emmeline shrieked.
Too late. A ball, viciously launched by Goyle, slammed into Miles's side mid-turn, knocking him off balance. He spiraled downward and only just managed to grab his broom again, wincing as he pulled himself back up.
"Foul!" Emmeline shouted.
But again, no whistle.
"The game's going to end soon," Severus murmured. "Regulus is watching the winds. He's timing something."
Suddenly—a flash of gold.
The Snitch zipped past the northern goalpost, a glimmering blur caught in a crosswind.
"THERE!" Petunia shouted.
Amos reacted first. He turned with a gasp, crouched low over his broom, and rocketed after it, his golden hair streaming behind him. Regulus didn't move at first.
And then—he pivoted.
In one seamless arc, Regulus rolled his broom through a corkscrew spiral and dove, tight and controlled. His eyes were fixed ahead, not on the Snitch, but on Amos waiting for him to miscalculate.
The crowd was screaming now. Hufflepuff students were on their feet. Professors were leaning forward.
Amos reached out just a bit too early.
The Snitch veered left and Regulus, already anticipating it, cut in from beneath, underneath, and surged upward in a brutal vertical burst.
His fingers closed around the Snitch with a triumphant snap.
A moment of silence. And then—
"BLACK HAS THE SNITCH! SLYTHERIN WINS!"
The green stands exploded in wild cheers. Even from the Ravenclaw end, a few polite claps rose for the dramatic catch. On the pitch, Regulus hovered in place, calm and composed, holding the Snitch in his hand as if he'd simply plucked it out of the sky..
Amycus Carrow punched the air. Rosier whooped and tackled Regulus midair in a victory hug.
Regulus, ever cool, offered only a small, satisfied smile as he drifted to the ground. grinning.
"Showoff," Felix grumbled, but he was grinning. "That was brilliant."
"I knew he'd win," Severus said smugly, folding his arms.
Emmeline groaned. "Ugh, poor Amos. He was so close."
"He overreached," Severus replied crisply. "Regulus waited for him to burn out. Classic strategy." he cast a pointed glance at Petunia.
Pandora and Emmeline giggled.
As the teams descended to shake hands, and the banners above shimmered with a proud silver-and-green glow, the crowd began to shift. The match was over, and Slytherin had claimed their victory but the season had only just begun.
....................................................................................