The Slytherin lounge seemed much calmer compared to the heat in the Gryffindor lounge. In the corner, the fireplace gave off a faint dark red color, keeping the room at a comfortable temperature.
"Keep your swings steady, everyone," Draco said as he sat casually at a long wooden table, glancing at the players.
He didn't have high expectations for the first game. The group of dementors would most likely take action, so the Slytherin team would probably win as long as the match wasn't resolved in a few minutes by the savior.
Pansy had barely learned the Patronus Curse, so he didn't have to worry about that.
There was no need for pre-game mobilization. The Slytherin students were naturally resistant to this kind of excitement. The thirst for glory in their hearts was already the best catalyst, and they preferred tangible things to illusory things.
"Win, and I'll treat you," Draco added before raising his teacup and saying, "Screw that group of Gryffindor girls!"
A big guy stood up and shouted loudly, and the other players followed suit, standing up and raising their teacups. They had seen Draco's generous shots before, which only strengthened their thirst for victory in Saturday's game.
Soon, it was the day of the game. The sky was dark and foreboding, with thunder rumbling in the air and the sound of strong wind hitting the castle walls. In the distance, the sound of trees breaking in the Forbidden Forest was endless. The students in the common rooms on both sides were discussing the tactics and strategies they should use.
After a while, it was time to enter the field.
The Gryffindor students all put on their scarlet robes, but the wind was blowing so hard that they stumbled as they walked to the court. In the rumble of thunder, they couldn't hear the cheers of the audience at all. They tried their best to appear energetic, but what they presented was embarrassing, as the rain was blurring their eyes and their trousers were muddy.
"This is really bad weather," another girl on the Gryffindor team complained. In this weather, she had to hold her head up, put her hair in a bun, and put on her hood, otherwise the rain would disturb her waves at any moment.
"The Slytherin players will have a harder time adapting to this than us," Wood said, trying to calm the impetuous emotions of his players.
But when they were officially on the court, they were surprised to find that the Slytherin players looked much more comfortable than they expected.
The captains of both sides stepped forward to shake hands. Marcus Flint, the captain of the Slytherin team, gave Wood a provocative smile. "Poor Gryffindor, they can't even afford a decent waterproof game gown. Are you guys ready? If you don't mind, maybe our team can sponsor you a few more for next year's game. What do you think?" Flint said, looking back at his teammates as if he was genuinely considering it.
"Oh, sorry," Marcus said in a false tone, suddenly stretching out his voice. "I forgot. You guys will graduate next year. It seems that you won't have this chance." As he spoke, the players behind him laughed, and then Marcus poked Wood's chest with his finger and added, "I heard that you haven't won a trophy in seven years? Then I'll tell you, this year will be the eighth year."
A sharp and continuous whistle sounded suddenly, made by Mrs. Hooch. She was unsmiling and stared at the two with her eyes narrowed, a warning that the Slytherin team was being too provocative. She didn't want to see the good match turn into a fight.
"I hope your lips are as powerful as you are on the court," Wood ignored Madam Hooch's eyes and sneered at Marcus. His anger had been accumulating for the past few days and he needed to vent. Marcus was a reasonable and justified target.
A slightly shorter whistle sounded again, signaling preparation. All the players held their broomsticks. It seemed that Mrs. Hooch also saw that the tension between the two sides was too strong for mediation to resolve, and that they would perform better in competition.
"Mount your broomsticks," everyone heard Madam Hooch say, although the wind at this time almost drowned out her voice and made it difficult to reach the stadium.
"Qu..." The whistle signaling the start of the game finally sounded.
Afterimages began to appear over the Quidditch stadium. Of course, this wasn't because they were moving too fast, but because the rain was getting heavy and interfering with people's sight. Even the commentator's voice was vague as he tried to explain the situation because he couldn't see clearly himself.
T
The bad weather even made it difficult for the players to see their teammates. Two Slytherin players almost collided in mid-air, but one of them changed direction in time to avoid the accident.
Gryffindor's players were not much better. They swayed on their broomsticks, as if they would be blown off at any moment. Combined with the wandering ball that appeared from time to time and the cold rain soaking everyone's jerseys, they were all miserable but gritted their teeth.
Harry was still wearing glasses, which had a cumbersome drag effect magnified by the heavy rain. The raindrops dripping from the frames of his glasses interfered with his actions. Slytherin's Pansy, the seeker, was also constantly harassing him, clinging to the tail of his broom and following him closely. Even if a golden flash appeared in the mist in front of his eyes, the girl would doggedly chase after him, leaving him no time to be distracted.
Under these conditions, even scoring in the most conventional way was extremely difficult, let alone competing for the Golden Snitch.
A flash of lightning fell from the sky, illuminating the entire stadium for a moment before returning it to gloom. After that, the players on both sides returned to the ground, and one of them should have called for a timeout.
"I'm calling a timeout!" Wood yelled to the players. "Come on, get down here!"
They squeezed under a large umbrella on the edge of the field. Harry took off his glasses and quickly wiped them on his robe.
"What's the score?"
"Zero to zero," Wood gasped heavily, his physical exertion was too great, taking advantage of the moment to recover some physical strength. "That group of big guys doesn't seem to be trying to score! They've been harassing us, and in this ghostly weather now, I swear, do we have to fight until night?" Wood's tone was a little frustrated, then he turned to Harry and said, "You're our only hope. If you can catch the Golden Snitch as soon as possible, we'll win!"
"I can't do anything with my glasses," Harry said sadly, waving his glasses.
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