Consistency is often praised as a great virtue, and what makes it so admirable is that, despite seeming like a simple thing, so few people can truly live up to it.
Even if Ilvermorny were the kind of school full of timid little girls who wouldn't put up a fight, Slytherin's ideal of "noble ambition" would be hard to realize. But the truth was, Ilvermorny wasn't a school of meek little girls, in fact, it might be more accurate to say it was home to rowdy girls who'd smirk and invite you over just to start trouble.
Ilvermorny was a magic academy that bore a striking resemblance to Hogwarts, not only was it founded by a descendant of Salazar Slytherin himself, but it had also adopted the same house system, with four distinct houses. This led to it mirroring Hogwarts in many ways, especially when it came to that one beloved, chaotic tradition: Quidditch hooliganism.
Now, thanks to pressure from their headmaster, though who knows what Headmaster Childe really said behind closed doors, Ilvermorny students didn't openly chant obscene slogans. Instead, every inch of the stands was covered in banners supporting their home team.
The nasty part was that every so often, those banners would shimmer and shift, revealing messages like: "Hogwarts guests, go eat dung."
These offensive phrases would flash on screen for just a split second, long enough to catch your eye, but quickly lost again in the sea of signs. Surrounded by so many slogans, it was impossible to report them accurately, any witness would just claim they didn't see a thing, protecting the true culprits.
Even if someone tried to complain, it wouldn't matter. The truth was, you couldn't pin it on anyone. In the magical world, illusions could be altered at a whim, and evidence could disappear just as fast.
And so, in this storm of psychological warfare, the Hufflepuff team took the field, wearing bright, pristine uniforms, flying on polished new brooms… while surrounded by thousands of signs cheering for their enemies.
The moment they entered, a deafening wave of boos swept through the arena, crashing like a tidal wave, shaking the soul, and rattling the nerves.
Amidst the sea of jeers were clear, vicious insults. All kinds of filthy words came pouring out of the mouths of the young witches and wizards watching. Even in international Quidditch matches, heckling was common. And this was a school-level match, a miniature version of the adult league, so you can imagine how bad it got.
It took quite a while before Headmaster Childe casually raised his hand, half-heartedly reminding the students to be respectful to their guests. Naturally, it had no effect. The students kept shouting, as if they hadn't heard a word.
With a helpless shrug, the headmaster gave up, as if saying, "Well, I tried." After all, with such a massive crowd, he couldn't possibly punish them all, could he?
As the saying goes, "The law does not punish the majority." Usually, that's just an excuse to go after whoever started it. But this time, it was literal, at least on the surface. The headmaster had no intention of disciplining his students.
Whether he was truly powerless or just pretending to be, the result was the same: Ilvermorny's students grew bolder and bolder.
Where offensive slogans had once flickered in and out, they now stayed up constantly. Insults like "Hogwarts trash, go crawl back to your bloodsucking friends" were plastered everywhere.
Each Hogwarts student watching felt a strong, burning urge to draw their wand and start a brawl, they were more than used to fighting, after all.
Unfortunately, that impulse was stopped by Professors Sprout and Snape. Even though both of them felt just as provoked, the self-control of adulthood helped them hold back.
Professor Sprout took the gentle approach, offering words of calm and reason. Professor Snape, on the other hand, went straight for the jugular:
"Tsk tsk. Is this what the Hufflepuff team is made of? Scared stiff before the game even starts?"
"If I had known it would be this pathetic, I'd have sent in the Slytherin team instead. At least they wouldn't be trembling so badly they needed backup just to face the crowd."
He paused for a moment, casting his gaze over the students before him, then added in a quiet but piercing tone:
"Do you actually want to fight them, or are you just looking for an excuse, because you already believe you're going to lose?"
His biting sarcasm finally sobered the hot-headed students. They weren't stupid, just temporarily overwhelmed by the hostile environment. After all, in the wizarding world, you might be legally considered an adult at seventeen, but that didn't mean you were mentally mature yet.
As for Allen, he wasn't even feeling angry. He was drenched in cold sweat.
Just moments earlier, when the Quidditch players were taking the field, one particularly idiotic student had made a rude, obscene hand gesture at Allen. To make it worse, the boy shouted a crude insult.
Allen simply ignored it. He treated it like a fart in the wind.
Unfortunately, someone next to him didn't ignore it.
The moment that insult was shouted, the little girl sitting beside Allen dropped her bucket of popcorn. The fluffy kernels scattered across the ground… revealing a small plush toy that was often used by creepy old men to lure kids, but adored by little girls nonetheless.
It was a very cute bear, something like a teddy. One of its button eyes was sewn tight, and the other was marked with a stitched X.
Its name was Tibbers.
Right as the girl started to rise, clearly ready to throw the bear, Allen stopped her just in time.
Was she kidding? Sirius Black once got framed by Wormtail for blowing up a street, and ended up in Azkaban for half his life. If Annoe tossed Tibbers now, Allen would probably spend his life behind bars.
And considering this was America, he might even get the death penalty. Or worse, he and Annie might have to flee to Voldemort and begin their campaign to conquer the magical world.
Wiping the sweat from his brow, Allen quickly pulled out another bag of popcorn to calm the girl down. At the same time, he shot a glare at the idiot who almost caused a diplomatic incident.
In that moment, Allen's eyes flashed with a strange glint, and the moron reacted as if he'd seen something terrifying. He instantly lost his balance and tumbled down the bleachers, knocking over several banners along the way.
He finally landed face-first into a rather poetic patch of filth, specifically, a banner reading: "Hogwarts players are literal crap."
That brief scene of chaos actually helped ease the tension among the Hogwarts crowd. After all, what else could they do besides cheer on their team? Getting into a fight with Ilvermorny students wouldn't help anyone, and certainly wouldn't change the outcome of the game.
The only people in the stadium who seemed completely at ease were Allen and the reserve players, they were the only ones who knew just how much effort had gone into their training. Unless Ilvermorny had somehow produced a team of gods, Hogwarts had this match in the bag.
Once the uproar finally died down, the players took their positions. With a sharp whistle and the release of the Golden Snitch, the match began in earnest.
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