In the Gryffindor common room, the atmosphere was a little tense, though it leaned much more toward excitement.
Their captain, Oliver Wood, was currently stroking the handle of the Nimbus 2001 in his hands with an almost fanatical intoxication.
As if it were the long, pale leg of his dream girl.
Ever since Harry had handed the remaining six brooms over to him, Wood had worn this exact expression.
It wasn't that he had never seen such a good broomstick before; due to a certain company's habit of releasing incremental upgrades like squeezing toothpaste, the performance difference between the Nimbus Harry used previously and the one currently in his hands wasn't actually that vast.
Wood had ridden that Nimbus 2000 before, but at the end of the day, it wasn't his.
Cough—well, even though the one in his hands right now wasn't technically his personal property either, but rather the shared property of the Gryffindor Quidditch team.
Still, he had exclusive rights to use this particular one until he graduated.
So, for all intents and purposes, it was his broom.
The twins really couldn't stand looking at Wood's infatuated face any longer. Giving him a sharp kick to the backside, they finally snapped him out of his trance.
"Ahem, alright, I'll keep this brief," Wood said, forcing down the drool that had nearly spilled over.
He clenched his fists, a manic gleam flashing in his eyes.
"Hufflepuff's biggest threat is their two Beaters, Kyle and Hannah."
Wood paced back and forth across the changing room.
"In previous years, we always lost to them because we couldn't fend off that 'Demon of the Sky'." His voice grew low.
"But now! We have Beaters who can go toe-to-toe with them!" Wood fixed his eyes on the twins with intense pride.
The burning fervor radiating from his gaze made the twins feel a little unnerved.
"This year is my very last chance to see our names engraved on that Cup!" Wood waved his hands frantically.
He was already in his seventh year; if he couldn't clinch the Quidditch Cup this time, his seven-year school career would end in bitter regret.
"Do you have the confidence to crush them?!"
Answering him was a roaring chorus from the other six players: "Crush them!"
Led by Wood, the Gryffindor players—now clad in their scarlet robes—walked out of the changing room with their heads held high and morale soaring.
However, this high morale was pretty much instantly shattered the moment they stepped out onto the pitch.
The gale howling across the pitch was simply too ferocious. Aside from the twins, who were using their magic to anchor themselves firmly to the ground, the other five were blown completely off-balance, stumbling about.
In stark contrast, the Hufflepuffs on the opposite side stood perfectly steady, drawing an immediate, clear distinction in skill.
Having endured countless days and nights of hellish training far exceeding the intensity of military drills, every single member of the Hufflepuff team had long since mastered the technique of using magic to help themselves stand straight and sturdy.
This bit of wind still affected them, but barely.
"Out they come! The most exciting thing about this match is that between Hufflepuff and Gryffindor, there are a total of three Firebolts on the pitch!"
"According to Which Broomstick, the Firebolt is set to be the top choice for national teams competing in this year's World Cup..."
Professor McGonagall reached over and patted Lee Jordan, signaling him to commentate seriously and stop running advertisements—it wasn't like Firebolt was paying him for an endorsement.
For this match, Kyle and the twins mutually agreed to skip the pre-game trash-talk.
After all, none of them wanted to linger in this torrential downpour for too long; the sooner the match ended, the better.
Madam Hooch's voice was completely swallowed by the rumbling thunder. The players on both sides could only deduce that she had signaled the start of the match when they saw her raise the whistle to her lips.
Fourteen broomsticks shot up into the air, soaring high into the sky.
Standing on the ground, Madam Hooch threw the scarlet Quaffle high into the air.
Gryffindor Chaser Angelina Johnson and Hufflepuff Chaser Zacharias Smith both accelerated their brooms toward that streak of red in the storm, eager to secure the opening possession.
Following right behind were the two black Bludgers.
Just as Madam Hooch unlocked the chains binding the Bludgers, a golden figure dove straight toward the ground.
Accompanied by a resounding crack of a bat colliding with a Bludger, a streak of black light zipped straight toward Hannah up in the sky.
"Kyle intercepts the first Bludger! He smashes it toward his teammate Hannah, deftly evading the Weasley twins' pursuit!"
Lee Jordan's voice boomed from the megaphones surrounding the pitch, though it was muffled by the howling storm.
Having intercepted the first Bludger, Kyle gave his broom handle a sharp tug, ascending back to his original cruising altitude.
At that moment, their team's Chaser, Cadwallader, had already breached Gryffindor's defensive line with the Quaffle.
"George is hot on Cadwallader's tail! He's preparing to attack!"
What Lee Jordan didn't know was that the person tailing Cadwallader was actually Fred, not George.
In this godforsaken weather, it was difficult enough to distinguish anyone, let alone tell the Weasley twins apart.
That was something even Mrs. Weasley struggled to do under perfect visibility.
A streak of light tore through the air, punching a hole through the curtain of rain along its path as it shot straight toward Fred.
This Bludger wasn't an attack from Hannah, but rather a pass from George.
With a backhand swing, Fred struck the incoming Bludger, redirecting it to hurtle toward Cadwallader right ahead of him at an even greater speed than before.
Another streak of light precisely knocked Fred's shot off course.
"Intercepted! Kyle intercepts the Bludger!"
"Cadwallader looks ready to score, but Harry Potter has blocked his line of approach! Alicia and Angelina are right behind, locking down his left and right flanks!"
"A pass! Cadwallader chooses to pass to—"
"He didn't pass to his teammate! Was that a blunder?"
It was no mistake. Cadwallader had thrown the Quaffle toward an empty space, just as another streak of light came booming through.
Bang!
The Bludger smashed by Kyle collided precisely with the Quaffle, ricocheting it right back into Cadwallader's waiting hands.
"A feint! Cadwallader has the ball again! The Gryffindors were completely fooled by that dummy pass!"
"He shoots! Hufflepuff scores the first goal of the match!"
Flying high in the air, George and Fred silently exchanged a look.
Immediately after, George adjusted his broom's direction and charged straight toward that distant golden flash.
Meanwhile, Fred locked his gaze onto the other black Bludger drifting across the sky.
The howling rainstorm provided excellent cover for George's movements; Kyle didn't spot him until George had closed within twenty meters.
While guiding his broom into a dive, Kyle swept his gaze back and forth across the sky above the Quidditch pitch.
He quickly spotted Fred rapidly closing in on a Bludger.
"So eager to start a dogfight already?" A smile curled at the corner of Kyle's lips.
Although Hannah tried her hardest to intercept the Bludger in front of Fred, Fred's four years of Quidditch experience ultimately gave him the upper hand.
Having intercepted the Bludger, Fred immediately smashed it over to George.
Seeing George secure the Bludger and raise his bat to deliver a thunderous strike, Kyle didn't hesitate. He yanked his broom handle diagonally upward, forcing the Firebolt into a sharp turn at its maximum instantaneous cornering speed.
Seeing this, George followed Kyle's flight path, executing the same tight, spiraling maneuver.
Both offense and defense continuously twisted and turned, their erratic flight paths intertwining.
If Lee Jordan were a military enthusiast, he would have recognized that the maneuver George and Kyle were performing right now was called—the Scissors.
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