The next morning, cold winds howled, but they couldn't extinguish the fervent Quidditch flames in the castle. The entire castle was discussing today's match between Hufflepuff and Slytherin. With Ravenclaw defaulting to last place, this battle could directly determine the two finalist spots! Therefore, the atmosphere was even more heated than the opening match between Gryffindor and Slytherin.
Early in the morning, crowds from the castle were all flowing toward the pitch. Except for Dumbledore and several Heads of House, who were waiting for the Board of Governors and review committee to arrive. The Heads' faces all looked unpleasant.
First, because for over a week now, they'd been busy every day preparing so-called review materials. Second, because the review committee member list had been given to Hogwarts not long ago. The composition of this so-called review committee was truly jaw-dropping.
Originally, they thought those qualified to review their work would at least be masters proficient in their respective fields. That way, they could at least feel better about it. After all, with master-level insight, they might actually point out some oversights in their teaching. It could be considered academic exchange.
But what they never expected was that the review committee the Board had found was actually a group of so-called critics. The disgust on Snape's face was practically overflowing. As if he'd seen something nauseating.
"These people who critique and pontificate in newspapers. What knowledge do they have? They just write about whatever's trending, read a few reviews, and think they know everything about the field. But in reality? If you asked them to brew potions themselves, what could they produce? Probably whatever potion knowledge they learned was already returned to Hogwarts upon graduation."
Snape let out a cold laugh. "If anyone dares have any opinions about my Potions teaching, I'll turn them into a Flobberworm and throw them into a cauldron."
Very rarely, the other Heads all showed agreement with Snape's "extreme views." Especially Professor Sprout. Ever since seeing the name responsible for Herbology review in the committee, her expression had been extremely dark.
Bozo Chalman, Slytherin-born, a rather notorious figure in the Herbology world. He was actually in the same year as Professor Sprout. This person's resume was quite peculiar. When in school, Bozo Chalman's Herbology theory was quite good. But when it came to practical application, it was a disaster scene. No matter how strong their life force, magical herbs would be on death's door in his hands.
Everyone thought this person probably wouldn't have much development in Herbology. But who knew that after graduation, he found another track... Herbology popular science commentary. Perhaps he channeled all his cynicism and frustrated ambitions through his articles.
On one hand providing shallow popular science about Herbology discoveries, while on the other hand heavily criticizing this herbologist for lacking inspiration and that method for being incredibly stupid. His writing was very sharp and extremely satirical. As a result, he actually catered to many readers' preferences, becoming popular for several years. Many loyal readers even exclaimed, "The real herbologist is among the people," and "Bozo Chalman is the true Herbology master."
If it were just this, Professor Sprout wouldn't bother commenting on him. But not long ago, just before the Ministry hearing, Bozo Chalman had also written an article heavily criticizing Ciel's Piranha Algae cultivation method. Professor Sprout hadn't had time to deal with him then. Later she forgot about him.
But today, seeing Bozo Chalman appear on the review committee list, Professor Sprout immediately remembered this incident. Her expression was as dark as storm clouds.
"If this bastard dares spout nonsense about Ciel again, Fanged Geraniums are already prepared for him..."
Waves of cold emanated from Professor Sprout, making the nearby Heads and Dumbledore shiver involuntarily.
Just then, several carriages pulled by Thestrals appeared in view, stopping at the castle entrance. Lucius Malfoy and various Board members stepped out of the carriages. Dumbledore maintained his calm expression, about to greet them. But immediately heard quite discordant voices from the carriages behind.
"After all these years, Hogwarts castle still hasn't changed at all? Merlin above, at least fix the road from castle to station. Beautify the castle's exterior walls? Look at all that weathering... there's more than when I graduated. Don't know where all these years' teaching funds went. We really were the right people to call for this review."
Several well-dressed, excited middle-aged men emerged from the carriages. All wearing expressions of excitement and nastiness. For these so-called "critics," being invited by the Board to review Hogwarts' teaching situation was absolutely a tremendous honor. After returning, a few published articles would bring galleons flowing into their money bags. Not to mention the Board's compensation was extremely generous.
Lucius Malfoy had only made one request. "I'm bringing you to Hogwarts for one thing. Find fault, find fault. And keep finding fault! The more detailed and meticulous your review opinions, the better. If you're willing, you can review at Hogwarts for a week, with all expenses covered by the Malfoy family!"
This tempting promise made these people enter fault-finding mode the moment they got off the carriages. From castle management and maintenance to Hogwarts' operational model, they criticized everything from top to bottom.
Until a chill colder than the winter wind emanated, making them shiver and stop their incessant chatter. Dumbledore glanced at them coldly.
"I was worried the review committee members might be hungry and wanted to invite you to revisit Hogwarts breakfast. Now it seems you're too full, so I won't add to your burden. There happens to be a match today. Save any opinions until after the game."
With that, Dumbledore and the displeased Heads walked toward the Quidditch pitch. His gaze made the critics fall silent. Lucius glared at them dissatisfied.
"I told you to find fault. Give Hogwarts some trouble. Not big, but not small... just enough to keep them busy for a while. I didn't tell you to target Dumbledore, acting like you want to prosecute him and make him resign. Even several Ministers of Magic couldn't do that... you think your few mouths can? If you keep targeting Dumbledore, I'll have to distance myself to avoid getting blood splattered on me. What faults you can find and what you can't, you need to understand that yourselves."
The critics finally understood, wiping cold sweat. "Understood, understood. After watching the match, we know what to say."
Mentioning Quidditch, especially this crucial battle determining whether Slytherin could reach the finals, these Slytherin-born critics were quite anticipating it. Lucius also relaxed slightly. Following Dumbledore toward the pitch, his steps became lighter.
But more than the match result, he was more concerned about one thing. "These noisy, chattering critics should be enough to cause Hogwarts some trouble. It would be great if this Quidditch match could last all day. But that's probably impossible. Though that little Hufflepuff's play style is peculiar, according to Draco, Slytherin has prepared a sure-win method."
With these thoughts flashing through his mind, Lucius's group followed Dumbledore to the front row seats of the stands. Upon sitting down, Bozo Chalman saw Slytherin's opponent was Hufflepuff. Seeing Hufflepuff stands with flags flying and every little Hufflepuff wearing "Badgers Eat Snakes!" badges, he showed some bewilderment.
Then a mocking expression appeared as he whistled. "In my memory, isn't Hufflepuff always just there to make up numbers in Quidditch? I was also a Quidditch team member back then. Seven years of playing, I never lost to Hufflepuff. Once I had stomach trouble and was clenching on my broom. Even like that, I could viciously slam Quaffles into Hufflepuff's goal."
As he spoke, Bozo Chalman made a Quaffle-throwing motion. The surrounding review committee members couldn't help but laugh and nod in agreement. He, as if finding his moment and sense of presence, continued chattering.
"Speaking of which, I heard Hufflepuff exceptionally recruited a first-year Beater this year? What was the name? Sprout? Oh, I know Beaters named Sprout. When I played, Hufflepuff had a Beater named... Robin Sprout? Something like that?"
Bozo Chalman wore a smug smile. "That time I was holding in shit. I crushed the team he was on. Now, though I'm not playing, I can still watch Slytherin crush Hufflepuff. It's really..."
Before he could finish, a spell suddenly struck him. Sharp force made his face pale. Then his hair began falling out strand by strand, leaving him bald in moments. Only then did Bozo react, jumping up and looking at Professor Sprout pointing her wand at him.
"You? How dare you attack me? I'm a review committee member, invited by the Board!"
But Professor Sprout showed no emotion. Her wand, like a sword, stopped at Bozo's throat. "Mention Robin in that tone once more. The next Severing Charm won't just cut your hair. I mean what I say."
The nearby stands fell silent. Even Board members said nothing. The other critic committee members were also speechless with fear. They all sensed killing intent from Professor Sprout. If Bozo touched her taboo again, he would really die here.
Fortunately, a whistle blew, and commentator Lee Jordan began his passionate broadcast. "Time's up! Players from both sides are entering!"
Everyone in the stands erupted in cheers. Only then did Professor Sprout lower her wand. Looking toward Hufflepuff's entrance tunnel, she forced a smile and began clapping slowly.
Bozo Chalman finally felt like he could breathe again. But being held at wandpoint by Professor Sprout in front of everyone filled him with humiliation. He clenched his fists in his seat with only one thought.
"Slytherin better crush Hufflepuff! Beat the shit out of them! And later, when reviewing Herbology, especially that little greenhouse... Pomona Sprout, you wait for me..."
At this time, Ciel emerged from the tunnel. His gaze unconsciously fell on the stands where Professor Sprout sat. He immediately read the anger of being offended from her expression. As for who had offended his aunt, looking at the nearby obvious Severing Charm-created bald head made it clear.
To make the good-tempered Professor Sprout angry enough to act, he must have touched her taboo. His gaze grew colder as he memorized Bozo Chalman's appearance. This person was asking for death!
But then, a forceful squeezing sensation on his palm brought his attention back to the pitch. It was the handshaking phase. Shaking hands with him was Slytherin captain Marcus Flint... a bastard who played dirty and had no character.
In the original story, Gryffindor players often complained that during pre-game handshakes, Flint seemed like he wanted to crush their hands. Now Flint apparently planned to use the same trick, giving Ciel a show of force first.
But no matter how hard he tried, it felt like hitting his palm with a pebble in the ocean. As if he were gripping an immovable mountain. Ciel looked at him blandly.
"Had enough gripping? If not, let me teach you. If you want to hurt someone, this isn't how you do it."
The next second, he lightly closed his five fingers. Flint immediately felt his palm being bitten by some prehistoric beast. In moments, five red fingerprints appeared on his skin. He had no doubt that if Ciel wanted, he could crush his hand to powder right now!
Flint's face paled as he released his grip like a survivor, glared at Ciel resentfully, then silently carried a small box to Slytherin's position. Hufflepuff team members all noticed that every Slytherin member carried a small box.
Spectators also began discussing. "What are the Slytherins carrying?"
Draco Malfoy and other Slytherins who knew about this smirked smugly. "Just watch. Once those boxes open, Hufflepuff is finished."
Their strong confidence made little Hufflepuffs who heard this uneasy, looking worriedly at the boxes. What was inside? Some vicious curse? Given Slytherin's nature, they weren't above such things.
But when the boxes actually opened, everyone was still shocked. These Extension Charm boxes contained gleaming suits of armor! Once opened, the armor seemed to come alive, automatically equipping itself on the Slytherin players.
The entire venue erupted in uproar. Commentator Lee Jordan angrily blew his whistle. "Foul! This is a foul!"
But immediately, Slytherin players laughed fearlessly. "Really? A foul? Which rule did we break? Is there a rule saying you can't wear armor in Quidditch? There's only ever been a rule requiring team uniforms when players enter, which we followed. Since there's no rule, why call it a foul?"
Flying instructor Madam Hooch pulled out the thick Quidditch rulebook. But after looking through it for a long time, she had to shake her head. She overruled Lee Jordan's claim of Slytherin fouling.
"The rules indeed don't mention it. Since it's not prohibited, it's allowed. Slytherin isn't fouling... at most they're exploiting a rule loophole."
Hearing this, little Hufflepuffs in the stands nearly exploded. "This isn't fair!"
Slytherin students retorted. "Reasonably using rules... how is that unfair? Who told you to be stupid and not find rule loopholes?"
While the stands argued chaotically, Marcus Flint looked at Ciel's team smugly. His muffled voice came from under the armor. "Now. Bludgers pose no threat to us. Without Bludger threats, can your tactics still win?"
But then, to Slytherin players' surprise, the opposing Hufflepuff players seemed relieved instead. Cedric Diggory shrugged, his gaze sharp.
"We were still hesitating whether doing this would be too much. Good thing you pulled this stunt first. Can't blame us then."
Slytherin players were bewildered, not understanding where Hufflepuff's confidence came from. The next moment, the match start whistle sounded.
Since Slytherin players all wore armor, despite weight-reduction magic, their speed was greatly affected. Their movements were noticeably slower. By the time they took to the air, Hufflepuff had formed their formation, surrounding Ciel as they flew toward the first Bludger.
Slytherin players were about to mock that this tactic had been completely countered... their armor had protective magic, making Bludgers harmless. But the next second, Ciel suddenly swung his bat. However, this Bludger didn't fly toward opponents. Instead, like a cannonball, it smashed into Hufflepuff's goalpost.
With an ear-piercing cracking sound, the entire venue fell silent. Hufflepuff's goal... was destroyed?! The previously smug Slytherins also froze. The opposing goal was broken... where would they throw Quaffles? How could they score?!
"Foul! How can you destroy your own goal? This is completely unfair, a foul!"
Madam Hooch immediately blew the timeout whistle, consulting the Quidditch rules again. But finally she could only raise her hand and announce.
"The rules also don't say you can't use Bludgers to break your own goal. Since there's no rule, play continues!"
Slytherin players now stared at the empty opposing goalpost, completely dumbfounded. How could they continue?!
At this moment, Ciel weighed his bat playfully. "Now it seems our rules are above yours, doesn't it? So everyone. Ready? This match might be just a tiny bit long."
[Chapter Complete]
***
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