"Oi! Who just hit me?!" Ron yelped in surprise.
With the match about to start, he was sitting perfectly still in the stands, ready to cheer on his best mate, Harry Potter. The last thing he expected was a sudden smack on the back of his head—light, but definitely noticeable.
The jolt nearly sent him tumbling off his seat.
Classic "off-the-bench" moment.
He spun around, indignant, only to be met with a face so familiar—and so impossible to stay angry at. Its owner met his glare with a smug tilt of her chin, brimming with mischief.
After that "unforgettable" summer they'd spent together, Ron had developed a lasting psychological scar when it came to this particular cousin—even if, objectively, her face was perfectly fine.
He deflated instantly.
"Mon—Monnie, what'd you hit me for?" Ron grumbled, trying to sound calm but failing.
It was none other than his cousin, Monnie Wanda, now a fourth-year in Ravenclaw.
"'Hit you?' My dear Ronnie-cousin, that's just how I show my affection! I can't believe you'd say such a thing—I'm heartbroken!" Monnie pressed a hand dramatically to her chest, her tone dripping with theatrical woe.
As if he'd actually wounded her fragile little heart.
Yeah, right, Ron thought furiously.
You did it on purpose! You really think I don't know what you're like?!
Of course, he wasn't about to say that aloud. Who knew what new level of drama—or violence—Monnie might unleash if provoked?
Fortunately, the smack hadn't really hurt. It was barely more than a tickle. No need to make a scene...
After a little mental self-soothing, Ron managed to steady himself. "Next time you want to say hello, could you not aim for my head?"
"Ooooh, little Ronnie's got some bite!" Monnie teased, feigning shock as she reached out to muss his hair into a hopeless mess.
"What are you even doing here?! Go back to Ravenclaw!" Ron huffed, frantically flattening his hair as he slumped back into his seat, determined to ignore her.
"Mind your own business!"
Monnie had no intention of leaving. She plopped down right behind Ron, squeezing in next to a petite second-year girl and helping her hold up the massive banner that stretched across ten seats.
"I'm Monnie, nice to meet you!" she said brightly to the girl.
"I'm Jonna—nice to meet you too!" the girl replied, shy but smiling.
"I'm from Ravenclaw. It's so much better over here—you can cheer openly for Qin! Though I'll probably get another round of snark when I go back." Monnie sighed, half-joking.
Her housemates always teased her about "confusing the Sorting Hat" in first year—claiming she was meant for Gryffindor, not Ravenclaw.
Pffft! As if she'd let a little gossip cramp her style.
"Hehe, I do feel a bit guilty since I'm Katie Bell's roommate, but... well, you know, Qin is the best!" Jonna admitted, though she didn't sound terribly remorseful.
The two girls exchanged a conspiratorial grin—instant camaraderie.
Before they could say more, a deafening roar erupted from all sides of the stadium.
No need to wonder why. Both girls turned their eyes to the pitch, where two teams—scarlet and emerald—marched onto the field in perfect formation.
At the center, Madam Hooch soared in on her broomstick, her robes and gray hair billowing in the breeze. She looked positively heroic.
"Gryffindor, go!"
"Come on, Slytherin!"
The cheers from both sides grew louder and louder, until finally—the match began!
...
"...And now the Quaffle's in Gryffindor's possession... Alicia Spinnet snatches it, weaving through the defense, and while Slytherin is caught off guard, she passes up to Angelina Johnson—I have to say, Angelina is both talented and beautiful—ahem, I mean, a truly outstanding and athletic Chaser... Oh no, Slytherin's Beater is moving in to disrupt—"
On the field, the game was fierce. In the commentary box at the center of the stands, a third-year boy was giving a running play-by-play with gusto.
In the Gryffindor section, the chestnut-haired Monnie Wanda listened, rolling her eyes with every sentence.
"What is this, Lee Jordan? Compared to Linda and me last year, he's hopeless! I honestly don't know what Professor McGonagall was thinking, kicking us out and letting this bland commentator take over. Totally unfair!"
Truth be told, it wasn't just about his skills. Monnie's real gripe was losing her seat in the commentary box. The view there was spectacular—unlike the regular stands, where you needed a telescope just to follow the action. It was impossible to get that immersive, heart-pounding feeling.
That, more than anything, drove her crazy.
"Um, your commentary last year was... memorable," Jonna said delicately, her tone layered with meaning. "But maybe it was a little too 'memorable'—that's why Professor McGonagall didn't let you keep the job."
She was talking about Qin Yu's first match, Gryffindor versus Slytherin. At George and Fred's urging, Monnie had opened with a barrage of mockery aimed at Gryffindor—all to lull Slytherin into a false sense of security. It worked: Qin Yu and the others seized control and trounced Slytherin.
After that, Monnie kept up a steady stream of cheeky "trash talk" throughout the match, and not even her co-commentator, Linda Zhu, could rein her in.
Getting sacked by Professor McGonagall? She'd earned it, fair and square.
"Hmph, Quidditch commentary should be wild and unpredictable! That's what makes a match thrilling. Professor McGonagall is just too stiff..." Monnie muttered under her breath.
No way was she going to criticize Professor McGonagall out loud. The Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts and Head of Gryffindor House, surrounded by loyal lions? She'd be torn to shreds before she could even plead her case.
"Hmm? What did you say?" It was so noisy around them that Jonna couldn't catch the mutter.
"Nothing, nothing. I was just saying how Marcus Flint is such a brute—using his size to bash into everyone!" Monnie said indignantly.
"Exactly! And their Beaters keep targeting Katie and Alicia. Katie almost got hit just now—thank goodness Qin stepped in! He was amazing, wasn't he?" Jonna gushed.
"Ah... yeah, totally!" Monnie agreed, a little too quickly.
No way was she admitting that she'd been daydreaming and missed Qin's heroic move entirely.
Well, there was no point fussing over why Professor McGonagall had booted her from the commentary team. What's done is done. She'd just have to make do with the ordinary stands.
Turning her attention back to the pitch, Monnie noticed that Qin didn't seem to be playing very aggressively. Instead, he was gliding leisurely through the air on his broomstick, surveying the field.
Merlin once said: When something seems off, there's always a reason.
With that in mind, Monnie scanned the stands, analyzing Qin's strategy with all the insight of a seasoned Quidditch fan.
~~~~❃❃~~~~~~~~❃❃~~~~
The story isn't over...🤔 Want to know what happens next to the characters?
🤫 Eager to explore the untold secrets of this world?
✍ Ready to read more of my wildest stories?✨patreon.com/GoldenLong