Chapter 280: Luna: We Are the Same Kind of People
Bole and Derrick, the two Slytherin Beaters, were just as brazen. Each with a bat, they drove the two Bludgers straight towards the back of Harry's head.
The Bludgers whizzed past Harry's arm and smacked into the distant stands, shaking the wooden planks and showering them with dust.
With Bole's bat nearly hitting Harry's broom handle and Malfoy only a broom-length behind, Harry suddenly shoved down on the broomstick.
The Firebolt, as if sentient, immediately pitched its nose up, rising almost vertically and rocketing Harry into the sky.
The change was too sudden. Bole couldn't stop his momentum, and Derrick couldn't brake.
Their bats crashed together with a loud CLANG, sending sparks flying.
Bole yelped in pain, clutching his arm and staggering.
Derrick was knocked halfway off his broom, barely gripping the handle to keep from falling. His hat flew off, revealing a shiny bald head.
Malfoy, unable to dodge, cracked his chin on Bole's broom handle, his eyes instantly tearing up.
"HA—HA HA HA HA!"
Lee Jordan's laughter nearly shattered the loudspeaker. "Oh dear me! What do you call that? Comeuppance! Mates, with that reaction time, you think you can catch the Firebolt? I suggest you get up two hours earlier tomorrow and practice shuttle runs with the Hippogriffs in the Forbidden Forest!"
The Gryffindor students in the stands were bent over with laughter.
Even the Hufflepuff students were slapping their thighs.
A few Ravenclaw girls covered their mouths, unable to hide the amusement in their eyes.
Luna beside Dylan shook her head.
Her lion-head hat also opened its mouth, seemingly mimicking Lee Jordan's laughter.
Only its roar still sounded majestic.
It was likely letting out all the frustration that had been building up. It was a moment of vindication.
Lee Jordan's commentary became completely unrestrained.
He pointedly listed all of Slytherin's underhanded tricks into the microphone, using sharp and sarcastic language.
Even the silver and green colors of their uniforms got a few mocking remarks.
Professor McGonagall's brow twitched near the commentary box.
Several times, she reached out to snatch the trumpet from his hand.
"Mr. Jordan!" her voice was icy, though it masked a subtle strain. "If you cannot remain impartial in your commentary—"
"I'm sorry, Professor! Truly sorry!" Lee Jordan's voice immediately softened, trembling slightly with a pleading, yet clearly suppressed, laugh. "I promise, I'll provide a proper commentary from now on. No embellishments!"
He did calm down somewhat, but his excitement was still palpable.
"Now for the score: Gryffindor thirty, Slytherin ten! Slytherin just scored a goal by Warrington. Looks like they don't plan to give up just yet."
Despite his words, the situation on the field was growing uglier.
The tempers on both sides were like lit gunpowder, ready to explode at a touch.
Slytherin, seeing themselves two goals behind, became even more flagrant with their fouls. The wind from their collisions was harsh.
Bole swung his bat, clearly aiming for a Bludger, but the tip of the club missed by half a foot, hitting Alicia squarely on the arm.
Alicia let out a muffled groan, nearly losing her grip and falling.
Bole merely shrugged innocently, shouting to the flying Madam Hooch, "I saw wrong! I mistook her red hair for the color of the Bludger!"
No sooner had he said this than George flew past on his broom.
As he passed Bole, he violently snapped his elbow up, hitting Bole squarely on the chin.
Bole's head snapped back. The whistle he'd been chewing on fell out of his mouth.
"DEE—DEE—"
Madam Hooch's whistle was as frantic as an alarm.
She flew between the two, her silver-grey hair bristling.
"One additional penalty shot for Gryffindor, one for Slytherin! George Weasley! Bole! If there is one more incident, you will be sent off the pitch! I mean it!"
Wood, in the Gryffindor goalposts, anticipated Slytherin's penalty shot and threw himself off his broom, clutching the Quaffle tightly with one hand.
He slammed back onto his broom, nearly tumbling off, but his legs hooked the handle in time.
"Forty to ten! Gryffindor is up by another ten points!"
Lee Jordan's voice rose again. "That was spectacular, Wood! He's literally goal-keeping with his body!"
The Slytherin players were clearly losing face, and their movements became more desperate.
"Katie Bell has the ball! She's charging—Goal! Beautiful!"
Lee Jordan was so excited he nearly swallowed the microphone.
"Fifty to ten! Gryffindor leads by forty points! Katie's throw was hotter than a dragon's fire! I love that girl's aim!"
Fred and George immediately flew alongside Katie, acting like two guard spirits, their bats poised to protect her from both sides, clearly anticipating Slytherin retaliation.
Slytherin didn't dare touch Katie again but took their anger out on Wood.
Two Bludgers, as if guided, struck him on the back and shoulder one after the other.
Wood grunted, his body suddenly arching forward. He rolled in the air, clutching his broom, his face white as paper, his lip bitten bloody. He was clearly in agony.
"DEE—!"
Madam Hooch's whistle was practically splitting. She flew right up to the Slytherin team, the head of her broom nearly hitting Derrick's face. "Slytherin team deliberately attacked the Keeper! Penalty! Penalty for Gryffindor!"
Angelina, holding the Quaffle, had small flames burning in her eyes.
The wind from her run-up swept up grass cuttings from the ground. Her throw was like a cannonball, grazing the Keeper's fingertips and flying into the goal.
"Sixty to ten!" Lee Jordan's voice was hoarse. "Angelina scored that one for Wood! Excellent work!"
Harry circled the pitch, his eyes locked on the air, clearly focusing on finding the Snitch.
Just then, Fred used his bat to knock a Bludger toward Warrington.
Warrington scrambled to dodge, dropping the Quaffle.
Alicia, quick as a flash, snatched the ball. Before the Slytherin players could react, she threw the ball into their goal.
"Seventy to ten! Gryffindor scores another ten points!" Lee Jordan's voice was loud enough to shake the stadium. "That coordination! It was flawless!"
The Gryffindor students in the stands were completely electrified. Screams and cheers surged like a rising tide, almost collapsing the wooden stands.
Ron, in the front row, was leaning halfway over the railing, his face beet red, his throat burning from shouting. He waved his Wizard's hat like a small flag.
Dylan felt a little warm. He pulled a silver wrapper from his pocket, tapped it with his wand, and the wrapper immediately became a long-stemmed glass.
He cast 'Aguamenti' into the glass, added a bit of grape juice, and the rim automatically sealed with a small lid to keep the alcohol from escaping.
He took a sip. Luna immediately turned her head, her pale golden eyes curiously fixed on the glass in his hand, blinking. "What is that?"
"Nothing," Dylan said, moving the glass slightly away, avoiding her gaze. "Aren't you watching the match?"
"The match is exciting, but your cup is more interesting," Luna leaned closer, whispering, "When I was three, my dad accidentally poured too much honey wine into his honey pies and let me try some."
"He said it tasted like adults."
She paused, wrinkling her nose. "But I don't like honey wine. It's too sweet."
"Did you add grape juice to your drink? I think pure wine tastes better."
Dylan's eye twitched. He quietly cast a spell to check his surroundings, confirmed there was no imminent chaos, Transfigured another glass, filled it with pure wine, and handed it to her.
"Thank you." Luna took it without hesitation and tilted her head back, taking a big gulp. Half the glass was gone instantly.
Anyone else drinking that quickly would have been dizzy, but her cheeks didn't even flush. Her eyes sparkled. It seemed she wasn't lying about her tolerance for alcohol.
"Penalty shot for Gryffindor!"
Madam Hooch's whistle cut through the pitch again, sharper than ever, carrying unprecedented fury.
She hovered on her broom, her chest heaving, clearly beside herself with anger.
"I have never seen such—such disgraceful behavior!"
The incident had just occurred.
Harry's Firebolt was almost upon the Golden Snitch. The Snitch's golden light was reflected in his glasses.
Malfoy, riding his broom, was sweating as he chased behind, watching the distance grow.
He suddenly lunged forward, stretching out his hand and grabbing the tail of the Firebolt, violently wrenching Harry's broom down.
Harry's body lurched sideways, making him miss the perfect opportunity to catch the Snitch.
The Golden Snitch, startled, zipped upward with a whoosh, quickly vanishing into the clouds.
"You shameless bastard!"
Lee Jordan's roar exploded through the loudspeaker, making the ears of the people in the stands ring. "That is absolutely beneath contempt! To resort to such a tactic—"
His subsequent words grew increasingly foul. A string of unsavory terms rained down like hail, causing even the players on the field to pause slightly.
Usually, Professor McGonagall would have intervened by now.
But this time, Dylan glanced over at the faculty section and saw Professor McGonagall standing there, one hand clenched into a fist, the other fiercely gripping the scoreboard, muttering something under her breath.
Though the exact words were indiscernible, the glare she shot at the Slytherin team looked even more frightening than Lee Jordan's shouting.
When it was Alicia's turn for the penalty shot, her hands holding the Quaffle were shaking.
She was likely so enraged that her throw, though forceful, was wildly off target, flying outside the goalposts and hitting the stands behind, drawing a burst of jeering laughter from the Slytherin students.
It wasn't just her. The rest of the Gryffindor team had fire in their eyes, their movements visibly hurried. Even Wood's voice, as he gave commands in the goal area, was rougher than usual.
In contrast, the Slytherin players had triumphant looks on their faces.
Malfoy even smugly jutted his chin toward Harry. A few players huddled, whispering and occasionally chuckling. Their morale had clearly soared.
"This match is really frustrating to watch," Dylan couldn't help but sigh.
"Don't worry," Luna turned her head, her face still calm, but her eyes held certainty. "Gryffindor will win this one."
Dylan paused, then let out a soft laugh. "Yes, I know they can win."
"I know that you know that I know," Luna's gaze was somewhat distant, her voice light, carrying her characteristic ethereal quality.
"After all, we are the same kind of people."
Luna's statement piqued Dylan's interest. He raised an eyebrow. "Oh? How so?"
"Have you ever seen a Wrackspurt?" Luna's eyes refocused on his face, and she asked seriously.
Dylan paused, shaking his head. "I've never heard of it. What is that?"
"It's a very small, invisible creature," Luna said, lightly tracing its shape in the air with her finger. "They quietly fly into people's ears and make them overthink, completely scrambling their thoughts."
She paused, then added, "Many people have them around. Even Professor Dumbledore occasionally has a few, but in very small numbers."
She raised her hand and waved it in the air, as if shooing away something unseen. Then she made a pushing motion toward Dylan before pulling her hand back, saying with a serious look:
"But you don't have any around you. Not only that, they seem to run away from you. I just tried to send one in your direction, and it immediately flew off."
Luna looked at Dylan, her eyes sparkling with curiosity, her voice carrying a hint of genuine admiration. "You are very powerful."
"Hmm..."
Dylan drew out his reply, blinking.
He earnestly scanned the air in the direction Luna had just waved.
The air was empty. Apart from a few grass cuttings stirred by the wind, there was nothing.
He muttered to himself.
This Wrackspurt, according to Luna, sounded like a person's worries and anxieties made visible.
But he had plenty of worries himself. Why couldn't he see them? Could it truly be some kind of spiritual creature that only manifests to certain people?
It seemed he lacked talent in that area and was destined never to see them.
"Thanks for the compliment?"
His tone held a trace of uncertainty. After all, being called "powerful" because of something invisible and intangible felt a little too mystical.
Luna didn't press the matter, giving a quiet "Mhm," and turned back to the pitch.
The moment her face turned toward the game—
A thunderous gasp suddenly erupted from the stadium.
Harry, riding the Firebolt, was circling low, his eyes fixed intently on a tiny flash of gold diagonally in front of him.
It was the Golden Snitch, having just emerged from the clouds!
He reacted almost purely on instinct, violently pitching his body forward, arms spread wide. He let go of the broom handle entirely while flying at high speed, throwing himself toward that tiny golden light!
Malfoy, seeing this, turned pale. He desperately urged his broom forward, practically lying on the handle, reaching out to grab the Snitch.
His fingertips were less than half a foot from the fluttering wings—he was moments from touching it—
But Harry was faster!
He cut a terrifying arc in the air, his right hand precisely enveloping the fluttering little creature, his five fingers snapping shut!
(End of Chapter)
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