Under the rigorous training of players from both Hogwarts and the visiting team, the week passed in a blur. Soon, it was November 11th—the second Friday of the month—a date now etched in the hearts of every student at Hogwarts.
Today, Hogwarts was extraordinarily vibrant. The entire castle had been transformed into a grand arena of festivity and sport, saturated with Quidditch paraphernalia. Banners of scarlet and gold fluttered from the parapets, Quidditch hoops had been conjured over archways, and enchanted golden snitches darted between turrets. The colors—red and gold—signified blood, courage, and triumph.
Naturally, the Slytherin students grumbled that the decorations were clearly biased, as red and gold represented Gryffindor. They proposed substituting silver for gold, claiming it would better reflect house neutrality.
But as everyone knows, gold is for champions. Silver is for second place.
The decision for the color theme had been made by a joint committee of the Hogwarts Board of Governors and the Dream Team organizers. It was a proclamation of victory before the match had even begun.
The Board of Governors, who had shown strong support for the Dream Team, even commissioned artists to charm the castle walls with flying ribbons, stylized broomstick trails, and grand illustrations of match scenes.
Above them, an enchanted golden snitch zoomed past, glinting like a will-o'-the-wisp in the crisp morning sun.
Outside, each house was assembled in front of the castle steps, though the rows of students were anything but orderly. Most students craned their necks and pointed excitedly at the castle's transformed architecture, distracted by the Quidditch-themed embellishments.
From the front line where Dumbledore stood alongside the other heads of house, he suddenly raised his hand and declared with bright eyes, "Ah, if I'm not mistaken, Ludo and the national team have arrived!"
The Dream Team members stood behind the staff, wearing their matching uniforms, polished to perfection.
Moriarty, gripping the Slytherin wand tightly, tapped it lightly against the ground. He sensed the surge of magical energy heading toward them.
"Where?" asked several eager students, scanning the sky in all directions.
"In the southwest," Moriarty replied, eyes narrowing.
"There! Over there! What is that, a flying house?" a fifth-year gasped, pointing over the Forbidden Forest.
"Don't be ridiculous—it's a carriage," Jericho corrected, squinting into the distance.
Sure enough, a massive blue-purple carriage emerged from above the forest treetops. It was the size of a small cottage, suspended in the air and pulled by twelve flying horses with silver manes. The Pegasi galloped through the sky faster than the wind.
"Graling! That's Graling! The name of the lead Pegasus!" Marcus shouted, recognition lighting his face.
Heads turned to Marcus in astonishment, including several professors.
Snape, barely moving his lips, muttered to Dumbledore, "Mr. Flint appears to be the first Slytherin to show a genuine interest in magical creatures."
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled as he smiled warmly. Hagrid beamed at Marcus with unmistakable pride.
It was clear what he was thinking: Once that carriage lands, we're going to visit those majestic Gralings together.
And Moriarty knew he was right.
Under the fascinated gazes of hundreds of students, the carriage descended rapidly. Before anyone could react, the England National Quidditch Team's crest became visible on the door.
The door flung open, and out leapt a wizard clad in a yellow-and-black tracksuit—Ludo Bagman himself.
Moriarty raised an eyebrow. Why wasn't Ludo wearing formal robes? Why the casual attire? Was their Hogwarts Dream Team not prestigious enough to warrant proper Quidditch ceremony?
But then Ludo's voice rang out, loud and cheerful, "Hah! Minerva? Severus? Recognize this?"
He held out the front of his tracksuit proudly, revealing the insignia of the Wimbourne Wasps.
Snape looked as though he'd just stepped in something unpleasant, while McGonagall gave the emblem a long, careful look before offering a polite smile.
"Wimbourne Wasps," she said. "A classic team."
"Exactly!" Ludo beamed. "They were top-tier when I played. The witches adored us!"
McGonagall almost mentioned she had always preferred the Tutshill Tornados, whose speed and precision left the Wasps trailing in their wake, but Ludo's childlike joy softened her resolve. She chose silence.
"Roman! Roman!" Ludo called back toward the carriage. "Come on! You're not napping, are you?"
There was no reply from inside the carriage.
The students began to fidget with excitement. Dozens of them craned their necks, hoping to catch a glimpse of the national team.
"Are they coming out?"
"Not yet. Let's see if we can—"
"Oh no, I forgot my quill!"
"Would they sign my robes with lipstick instead?"
"That's absurd," Lilith scoffed as she walked past a group of frantic Gryffindor boys. She stopped beside Moriarty, graceful and composed.
"What do you think they're plotting?" she asked softly.
Moriarty smiled. "A prank, perhaps? You think they're all Fred and George Weasley? These are grown-ups."
"I'll take a look myself," Ludo declared, nodding to Dumbledore and Moriarty before stomping back to the carriage. "You're worse than an old crone, Roman," he muttered.
He yanked the door open with a flourish—and instantly a cascade of confetti, enchanted balloons, and floating ribbons exploded into the air.
"Surprise!" Roman shouted, leaping from the carriage.
Behind him came eleven other national team players, including one with a towering afro and one with a sparkling red nose. Finally, a man in a formal tuxedo descended, radiating confidence.
Moriarty noted that the magician—if that's what he was—had flawless skin, not a wrinkle in sight.
"I believe in the power of magic," the magician said, his voice smooth. "And now, allow me to perform one for you."
The applause was tepid, limited to Ludo and the team.
Students looked skeptical. Magic? At Hogwarts?
The magician smiled wider. "I need two assistants. One of my teammates has volunteered—he says he has some experience with magic. Ah, here he comes."
Red Nose strolled forward.
"And now, a student. May I borrow one from Hogwarts?"
"I volunteer!" Fred and George shouted in unison.
The magician chose George, and the act began.
"Let's begin with a question: Which house were you sorted into?"
"Ravenclaw," Red Nose answered. "I'll never forget the Sorting Hat's voice—it was like completing a lifelong mission."
He shared a smile with Professor Flitwick, who returned it with pride.
"Splendid," said the magician. "And what do you miss most from your house?"
"The library in our common room," Red Nose replied instantly. "That's where I found an old Quidditch notebook that changed my life."
As he spoke, his nostalgia was palpable. Penelope Clearwater and other Ravenclaws nodded.
The magician finally interjected, "Do you remember that notebook?"
"Of course! Blue cover, a cat's head on the front, yellowed parchment..."
The magician mimed drawing it from thin air.
Red Nose scoffed, "You're not serious?"
"Just remember it vividly."
"Well... smooth blue cover, handled by generations…"
The magician yanked his hand back—and a thick tome appeared.
"That's not it!" Red Nose frowned.
The magician turned to George. "Want to trade?"
George was confused until he felt something in his robe. He pulled out a small notebook with a blue cover.
"My Merlin…" he whispered, dumbfounded.
The magician took it and handed it to Red Nose. "Your Quidditch Bible. Treasure it."
Then, passing the large book to George, he said, "Please return this to the Ravenclaw common room."
Gasps filled the courtyard. Red Nose's eyes brimmed with tears.
"I've searched for this for eight years."
Whispers of "teleportation" and "real magic" buzzed among the crowd.
The magician snapped his fingers.
"Ladies and gentlemen of Hogwarts, that was just a warm-up."
He grinned dazzlingly, prompting some girls to scream.
"And now, here comes the true gift from the England National Team"