At the Quidditch pitch, commentator Lee Jordan was doing the pre-match introduction:
"The Slytherin team has also taken the field. You can see that Captain Marcus Flint has made some adjustments to the lineup.
Compared to before, he seems to prioritize size over skill—"
Clearly, the Slytherin crowd's earlier booing of Lee Jordan had annoyed the commentator.
He immediately seized the opportunity to publicly criticize Slytherin.
Naturally, this only made the Slytherin section boo even louder.
"This time he's quite right. Except for Draco Malfoy, the other team members are all tall and burly," Luna said once again.
At this point, both teams had walked to the center of the field.
Madam Hooch followed protocol and said, "Captains, shake hands!"
It was standard procedure. Wood and Flint had nothing much to say and stepped forward to shake hands as instructed.
In the stands, the other two team captains, Cedric Diggory and Roger Davies, watched with twitching mouths.
Even from a great distance, they could see that both men were using every ounce of strength, as if trying to crush each other's fingers.
Should they be grateful that their opponents had held back during their own matches?
Though Madam Hooch noticed this, it wasn't technically a foul, so she simply pretended not to see it.
However, she never imagined this was just the beginning.
What followed would be the most intense, outrageous, and dirty match she had witnessed in her entire refereeing career.
"Mount your brooms—" The whistle was drowned out by the audience's cheers as fourteen brooms rose into the sky together.
Harry, as always, climbed faster and flew higher than everyone else.
The hair on his forehead flew back, and even that slight nervous feeling disappeared in the excitement of flight.
Noticing Malfoy right behind him, he quickly accelerated to shake him off while carefully listening to the match commentary.
Lee Jordan began his rapid-fire commentary.
"Gryffindor has seized possession first! Alicia Spinnet is heading toward the Slytherin goal posts with the Quaffle.
What a shame—the Quaffle was intercepted by Warrington!
He's charging ahead with the ball, seemingly trying to break through the entire field single-handedly—he's dreaming.
Well done!
George Weasley—or is it Fred Weasley? Sorry, these twins are really hard to tell apart.
Anyway, a Weasley made Warrington drop the Quaffle with a Bludger.
Ha ha, I bet getting hit by that Quaffle really hurt.
Excellent! The Quaffle was caught by Gryffindor's Angelina Johnson. Gryffindor has possession again.
Go, Angelina!
She's such an outstanding Chaser, and she's gorgeous too—"
"Jordan!"
Professor McGonagall had thought Lee Jordan was being unusually professional today, but it didn't take long for him to show his true colors.
"Well done, Angelina!
She got past Graham Montague. I think Graham must have been dazzled by her beauty.
That's quite understandable—she's so attractive—"
"Jordan, I'm warning you—"
"Sorry, Professor—Angelina, watch out for that Bludger!
Great, she dodged it and scored!
Ten-zero, Gryffindor leads!"
After scoring first, Angelina immediately glided around one end of the pitch, triumphantly pumping her fist.
The sea of scarlet below erupted in cheers.
But just then, Marcus Flint slammed into her hard, nearly knocking Angelina off her broom.
"Sorry!" Flint shouted over the crowd's boos. "Really sorry, I didn't see her!"
"Was that deliberate?" Hermione asked uncertainly from the Gryffindor stands.
"Obviously," Sherlock said, handing her the binoculars. "Angelina wasn't anywhere near Flint's original flight path."
"That's terrible! Why didn't the referee penalize him?"
"According to the rules, this is a flexible call."
"If this were football, he'd get at least a yellow card!" Hermione waved her small fist indignantly.
"Yeah, yeah!" Dean and Seamus nodded repeatedly.
"Last time you said a red card sends someone off. What's a yellow card?" Ron asked curiously.
"A yellow card is a warning; one level below being sent off with a red card. A player who receives a yellow card can continue playing.
But if they get a second yellow card, it equals a red card and they'll be directly expelled from the match—oh my God!"
Hermione suddenly covered her mouth mid-explanation.
Fred had just hit Flint on the back of the head with his bat.
Flint's nose smashed into his broomstick handle and started bleeding.
"Sorry!" Fred shouted loudly amid the Slytherin boos. "Really sorry, I didn't see him!"
What goes around comes around.
"Enough!" Madam Hooch, acting as referee, couldn't stand it anymore and called out sternly as she flew between them.
"Unprovoked attack on a Chaser—penalty shot for Gryffindor!
Deliberate injury to a Chaser—penalty shot for Slytherin!"
This included Flint's earlier collision with Angelina as well.
"Oh no, ma'am!" Fred couldn't help protesting. "I really didn't see him!"
But Madam Hooch paid no attention and blew her whistle directly. Alicia immediately flew forward to take the penalty.
"Go, Alicia!"
As the audience watched the penalty shot in silence, Lee Jordan shouted.
"Great! She fooled the Keeper! Gryffindor leads twenty-zero!"
"Well done!" Ron stood up and cheered loudly.
"It's the referee's fault. If she'd called that foul earlier, Fred definitely wouldn't have grabbed his bat to hit Flint.
But that was a beautiful hit—worth it!
By the way, for something like what Fred just did, would that also be a yellow card in football?"
Seamus hesitated. "Well, Ron—actually—"
Dean continued. "For that kind of action, it would definitely be a straight red card."
"What? Is it really that serious?"
Looking at Ron's incredulous expression, Dean and Seamus exchanged glances.
They thought: Your brother just grabbed a weapon and hit someone on the back of the head—any harder and he could've cracked his skull open. How is that not serious?
Lucky for him, Flint was thick-skinned and tough; getting hit with the bat only gave him a nosebleed.
Hermione also shook her head helplessly. "In football, Fred would already be suspended."
At this moment, Flint, whose nose was still bleeding, flew forward to take Slytherin's penalty shot.
Furious after being hit with the bat, he refused the other two Chasers who volunteered and decided to score this goal himself.
Wood stood before the Gryffindor goal posts, teeth clenched.
Amazingly, Wood made a spectacular save, actually stopping the shot.
"My God, Wood is a first-rate Keeper!
Incredible! He actually saved it!"
Lee Jordan's words expressed what all the spectators felt.
A penalty shot in Quidditch was equivalent to a penalty kick in football—the shooter faced a goal defended only by the Keeper, with scoring probability infinitely increased.
To still save a penalty shot under these circumstances required mental fortitude, physical ability, and technical skill—all three were indispensable.
"Well done, Wood!"
"Great job, first-rate Keeper!"
The entire audience erupted in cheers.
Harry breathed a sigh of relief and once again began climbing rapidly, searching all around for the Snitch.
He had memorized Wood's words. he had to wait until Gryffindor was ahead by more than fifty points before he could catch the Snitch.
If Flint had just scored that penalty, that goal would have become more distant.
For this very reason, he listened carefully to every word of Lee Jordan's commentary.
His current task had only one objective. prevent Malfoy from catching the Snitch.
The match continued.
Slytherin Chaser Graham Montague flew in front of Katie, who was charging ahead with the ball.
But instead of going for the Quaffle, he grabbed her head.
Katie did a cartwheel in mid-air. Though she managed to stay on her broom, she lost the Quaffle in the process.
Graham's action seemed to confirm Lee Jordan's earlier judgment.
When facing Katie, he didn't lose focus as he had with Angelina, but instead appeared somewhat ruthless.
Madam Hooch's whistle blew again.
She flew toward Graham and began loudly reprimanding him.
A minute later, Katie took the penalty and scored.
"The score is now thirty-zero!
Learn your lesson, you dirty, despicable, shameless, vile—"
"Jordan, if you can't continue commentating impartially—"
"I'm just stating facts, Professor—okay, okay, I'll stop."
There wasn't much more to say after that.
Following the deliberate fouls at the start of the match, the game began to deteriorate.
Both sides' actions became increasingly rough, as if they had continued onto the pitch the conflict that had paused a few days earlier.
Harry felt that perhaps he had participated in too few Quidditch matches, so he wasn't experienced enough.
But from his perspective, this match was indeed gradually becoming the dirtiest game he had ever played in.
Perhaps they were dissatisfied that Gemma hadn't upheld justice for them earlier.
Perhaps they were frustrated at Gryffindor's early lead.
Perhaps no reason was needed at all.
In any case, the Slytherin players' actions in the Quidditch final became increasingly rough, increasingly dirty, and they began to stop at nothing.
Slytherin Beater Lucian Bole hit Alicia with his bat and made excuses, saying he thought she was a Bludger.
"Didn't your Beater also hit our captain just now? It's understandable that I made a mistake!"
The little lions couldn't stand it before he said this.
Once he said it, how could the little lions' hot tempers tolerate it?
"Despicable, shameless—" Lee Jordan immediately began loudly denouncing him.
George was a man of action and immediately gave Lucian an elbow to the face in retaliation.
"See, I was just swinging my bat trying to hit a Bludger. That's a perfectly normal motion. It's your face that hit my elbow."
George looked completely innocent, loudly accusing Lucian of attacking his elbow with his face.
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