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Amid cheers loud enough to nearly blow the roof off the stadium, the Chairman of the International Quidditch Federation—who also served as the head referee for the final, a short elderly Wizard—strode toward the center of the pitch carrying a crate containing the match balls.
He drew his wand and pointed it at the crate.
"Look! They're off—!" Ludo Bagman's commentary exploded through the stadium once more, completely igniting the atmosphere.
The crate burst open, and the Quaffle, Bludgers, and Golden Snitch shot out with sharp humming sounds.
Almost simultaneously, the fourteen players from both teams rocketed out from their respective halves of the field!
The speed of professional players was dazzling, far beyond anything seen in a Hogwarts House Cup match.
The Quaffle passed between the three Irish Chasers like a magician's juggling trick, their formation constantly shifting in unpredictable ways.
The trio charged toward the Bulgarian goalposts with astonishing coordination and speed!
"My goodness! So fast!" Ludo Bagman was clearly overwhelmed by the explosive opening pace and completely gave up trying to call out each player by name. Instead, he began roaring out the tactics themselves.
"A classic Hawkshead Attacking Formation! The Bulgarian Keeper must be completely bewildered right now—he has no idea which direction to defend! Left? Right? Or the middle?!"
"The Porskoff Ploy! Look at the center Chaser! He feinted and dragged away the Bulgarian Beaters! The pass goes to the left wing—the shot—!!"
"He scores—!!!"
Bagman's voice cracked with excitement. "Levski! Brilliant play! Less than a minute into the match! Ireland takes the lead! 10–0! Ireland is ahead!"
The entire stadium erupted as Irish supporters waved their flags wildly.
"Badass!" Even the usually composed William slapped his thigh, blurting out a rare bit of slang.
But then he frowned slightly and leaned forward, paying closer attention to the Bludgers flying between the players.
"But… have you guys noticed? I feel like the Bludgers used in this World Cup are a lot faster than the usual ones."
Ollie, who had somehow acquired a little green Irish flag, squinted at the field and nodded. "A little."
Lynn leaned comfortably back in his chair and explained casually, "They're probably specially customized or enhanced match balls made to keep up with broom performance.
Ever since high-speed brooms like my 'Star Chaser' and the Firebolt appeared, players' maximum speeds have increased dramatically compared to a few years ago. If they still used the old Bludger models, the balls wouldn't even be able to keep up with the players, let alone threaten them."
"So that's how it is." William nodded in realization before returning his full attention to the match.
"Beautiful! Another perfect long-distance pass! Ireland scores again! 60–0!" Bagman's commentary could barely keep pace with the rapid scoring.
Ireland's offense surged like a violent storm.
They scored another five goals in rapid succession.
The Irish score on the giant board climbed frantically, while Bulgaria, aside from their early ten-point counterattack, was almost completely suppressed. Their goalposts were constantly under siege, and before long the score had become 150–10.
The Bulgarian supporters' section fell into anxious silence.
Seeing their team being crushed, the Bulgarian mascots finally lost patience and resorted to some rather shameless "off-field assistance."
The music started again, but this time it carried a distinctly seductive and enchanting force.
The Veela were no longer merely dancing gracefully. A strange light flickered in their eyes as they directly attempted to interfere with the Irish players on the pitch.
The tactic was truly insidious.
One Irish Chaser, who had been advancing with the Quaffle, suddenly had his attention stolen by the singing drifting from the stands.
"Hehe… beau… beautiful…"
His eyes glazed over instantly. His grip on the broom loosened as he turned with a foolish grin to stare at the Veela section, completely forgetting both the match and the Quaffle in his hands.
His broom spiraled out of control, carrying him straight toward the ground!
"Oh no!!" cried the Irish supporters.
Fortunately, the player hadn't disabled the broom's obstacle-avoidance enchantments.
The broom tilted upward at the last second and hovered just inches above the grass, narrowly preventing a serious crash.
The Chaser himself was left dizzy from the sudden stop, and the Quaffle had long since flown off somewhere else.
"Shameless!"
"That's cheating!"
The Irish fans roared furiously.
This completely enraged the Irish mascots.
"How dare they use dirty tricks to interfere with the match?! Smash them!" shrieked the lead Leprechaun.
The "gold coins" in their hands suddenly transformed into heavy metal lumps, which they hurled viciously at the Veela on the opposite side!
"Ow!"
"My head!"
"You despicable green bugs!"
The metal projectiles smacked into the Veela's heads and shoulders. Although they didn't cause serious injuries, they instantly raised painful lumps and drew furious screams.
"How dare you—!"
The Veela exploded with rage.
They conjured blazing fireballs in their hands and hurled them directly at the Leprechauns.
The Leprechauns dodged nimbly, retaliating with more condensed gold lumps while mocking them loudly.
For a moment, the stands descended into complete chaos as fireballs and flying metal projectiles streaked back and forth across the air.
The audience stared in shock for all of two seconds before erupting into even louder cheers and whistles.
"Good fight!"
"Show them what Leprechauns are made of!"
"Veela! Burn their butts!"
One ticket, two premium performances—a Quidditch final plus a full-scale mascot war. This ticket was absolutely worth the price.
Even the players on the pitch were briefly distracted by the chaos. The referee had to urgently dispatch staff members wielding wands that emitted deafening bangs, barely managing to separate the red-eyed mascots and force them to behave themselves.
After about an hour of this eventful match, both Seekers suddenly narrowed their eyes at the same time, their gazes locking onto the same corner of the field.
At this point, the scoreboard read 170–10. Ireland had built an overwhelming lead through sheer offensive dominance.
"The Snitch! Both Seekers have spotted it!" Bagman's voice suddenly shot upward.
Krum didn't hesitate for even a second.
His broad, powerful frame exploded with astonishing agility as he yanked his broom around and plunged downward in an almost vertical dive toward where the Snitch had appeared.
The Irish Seeker, O'Hare, reacted a split second later and gave chase at top speed.
The two figures tore through the air in a breathtaking pursuit, sometimes skimming dangerously close to the ground, sometimes streaking just above the spectators' heads.
Everyone held their breath.
During an incredibly dangerous low-altitude dive, just as the tail of Krum's broom nearly scraped the turf, his arm shot out—
Snap!
Krum jerked his broom upward and slowly rose into the air, holding high the tiny golden ball still fluttering desperately between his fingers.
"Krum has caught the Golden Snitch! The match is over—!!!" Ludo Bagman roared at the top of his lungs.
The scoreboard froze at its final result:
Bulgaria: 160
Ireland: 170
A stunned silence briefly swept across the stadium before it exploded into deafening cheers.
Krum had caught the Snitch—
But Bulgaria had still lost the match by ten points.