Saturday was the day of the first Quidditch match of the new school year.
That morning, the Hufflepuff table was almost a sea of yellow, while Gryffindor's was a vibrant golden red. The tension between the two houses, building steadily throughout the week, was about to reach its peak.
“I thought you weren’t going to participate this year.” Mikel handed Kyle a glass of pumpkin juice. “The moment I saw your name on the player list, I knew we were going to win.”
“That’s a bit premature,” Kyle replied, taking the pumpkin juice and sipping it casually. “Better to keep a low profile—losing after all this hype would be embarrassing.”
“I don’t think so,” Mikel said with a shrug, sounding completely unconcerned.
“How do you feel? Are you okay?” Cho asked as she approached, offering Kyle a supportive smile.
“I think I’m okay,” Kyle said, returning the smile. “Harry and I joined our teams the same year, and we’ve been rivals ever since. I don’t think I’ll lose to him this time.”
Kanna, who was standing nearby, shot him a sharp glance. What do you mean you won’t lose this time? Just a minute ago, you were telling Mikel to keep a low profile, but now that it’s your turn, you’re full of confidence.
She wasn’t the only one to notice his contradiction; several other Hufflepuffs nearby seemed to share the same thought.
“That’s good,” said Cho. “But you still have to watch out for Harry’s Firebolt. I don’t think your new Seeker is quite at Cedric’s level.”
“Don’t worry, Grace has a plan,” Kyle said confidently. “And our new Seeker isn’t that much worse than Harry. Sure, Cedric had the face, but we can’t let personal bias cloud our judgment.”
The room erupted in quiet laughter.
"I’ll see what you’ve got," Cho said, her cheeks tinged with a slight blush. She cast Kyle a half-annoyed glare before turning to leave.
“I was honestly worried she was about to lose her temper and punch you,” Kanna said with a grin.
“It’s fine,” Kyle replied nonchalantly, biting into his toast. “I can punch Cedric later—it’s basically the same thing.”
…
“Time to go,” said Grace, rising from her seat ten minutes later.
The group left the Great Hall and strode toward the Quidditch pitch. The weather outside was perfect—not too warm, still a little chilly, but far better than it had been the week before.
Once they reached the Changing Rooms, they donned their Quidditch robes, the golden yellow fabric glinting under the sunlight filtering through the windows.
“The conditions are in our favor,” Grace announced confidently. “Katie Bell, Gryffindor’s most experienced Chaser, is still at St. Mungo’s, so they had to replace her.”
“Who?” Mikel asked, his curiosity piqued.
“Dean Thomas,” Grace replied.
“Who?” Mikel repeated blankly.
“Potter’s classmate,” Grace clarified.
“Oh, a sixth year,” Mikel said, immediately feeling a wave of relief.
Generally, the younger the new players, the more naturally talented they tended to be. Harry Potter, for instance, had broken tradition by joining the team as a first year. Sixth-year additions, on the other hand, were usually players who had never made the cut in earlier years and were only now being chosen because of their size, strength, or lack of alternatives. There were exceptions to this, of course, but Dean Thomas didn’t seem to be one of them—not that Mikel had ever heard his name mentioned in a Quidditch context before.
“Okay, this is our first match,” Grace said sharply, bringing them back to the moment, “so don’t underestimate the opposition. The match starts in five minutes, so get your boots on.”
The group stepped outside into the stadium, greeted by a deafening roar of cheers from the Hufflepuff supporters. The stands were packed, an overwhelming sea of gold and yellow banners waving energetically.
Hufflepuff’s supporters clearly outnumbered Gryffindor’s, taking up nearly two-thirds of the stands. This imbalance was largely thanks to Slytherin’s strategy of unconditionally backing whoever was playing against Gryffindor—a house rivalry that was as old as Hogwarts itself.
Grace and Harry met at the center of the pitch, where Madam Hooch stood waiting. The two captains shook hands with polite smiles, showing no signs of animosity as the tension in the crowd continued to build.
“Mount your broomsticks and listen for my whistle… three… two… one!”
The sharp sound of Madam Hooch’s whistle cut through the air, and the players shot into the sky.
“They’re off!”
The voice from the commentary booth was unfamiliar and carried none of the usual enthusiasm that Lee Jordan had brought in past years. Instead, Zacharias Smith, a Hufflepuff student, had taken over commentary duties.
“What a surprise—I see Ron Weasley! After his horrific performance last term, I didn’t think he’d still be on the team. Oh, but yes, he does have a close personal relationship with the captain, doesn’t he? That helps.”
The Slytherin supporters burst into laughter, jeering loudly as Zacharias’s pointed remark landed exactly as intended. Gryffindor’s Keeper, Ron, glowered at the commentary booth but didn’t dare let himself be distracted.
“Grace has the Quaffle… what a charming girl… Kyle’s flying over, and there’s no one near him. It’s a perfect chance to—wait, she didn’t pass to Kyle! She passed to Toss… oh, wait!”
Zacharias’s voice suddenly rose in a shriek of surprise. “What an unexpected tactic—Kyle isn’t a Chaser! He’s the Seeker!”
But Zacharias’s observation was unnecessary. By now, it was clear to everyone that Kyle hadn’t looked at the Quaffle even once since the game began. Instead, he had shot straight to the highest point on the pitch, his eyes scanning the skies for the Golden Snitch.
From the stands, Cho stared at the pitch in stunned disbelief. She turned to Kanna, her expression a mixture of confusion and shock. “Why didn’t you tell me Kyle was playing as a Seeker?”
“I thought you’d figured it out,” Kanna replied with a laugh.
Cho froze, suddenly recalling what Kyle had said in the Great Hall earlier. Was that supposed to be a hint? But even if it had been, she could never have guessed this twist. After all, during every Hufflepuff training session she’d watched, their Seeker had been someone else entirely. To think they would make such a bold substitution during the match—it was almost unthinkable!
"That's the advantage of being a substitute," Kanna explained. "He can change positions at will."
"You knew about this?" Cho asked.
"No, I just found out yesterday," Kanna replied. "That was the strategy they discussed last night."
"I have to say, this strategy was a huge success," Cho said. "Hufflepuff surprised everyone!"
As she spoke, the moment Kyle stepped in as the replacement Seeker, the audience erupted in cheers. Everyone understood one key fact: the only thing capable of countering a Firebolt was another Firebolt. With Kyle's inclusion, Hufflepuff's one glaring weakness had been resolved.
As for Kyle’s actual skills as a Seeker? No one seemed to care—or even think about it.
"Bang!"
Just as the cheers on the pitch reached their peak, not far away in the tower, Snape angrily pushed open the oak door to the headmaster's office and stormed inside. He slammed a glass down onto Dumbledore's desk with force.
Dumbledore, who had been watching the match through the window, turned around at the sudden noise, startled. He was met with the sight of Snape, visibly seething, his face red with anger. It wasn’t often that Snape lost his temper so openly.
"Severus, what’s wrong?" Dumbledore asked, his tone curious but calm.
"Look for yourself!" Snape snapped, pointing at the glass. Inside, there was still half a cup of tea—and floating in it were five or six small, round, grey-brown pellets.
As Dumbledore approached, an unmistakably pungent smell hit him, making him pause.
"Oh, Severus, are you trying to recommend a new type of magic potion to me?" Dumbledore said, taking a half step back and adopting a mock-serious tone. "I appreciate your kindness, but I’m afraid my old stomach may not be able to handle the scent. Best you keep it for yourself and enjoy it."
"Please," Snape hissed coldly, "the great Headmaster Dumbledore—take another look at what’s in the glass."
"Oh?" Dumbledore said, reluctantly leaning in closer to inspect the contents. He squinted slightly.
"It does look familiar… Isn't this the fertilizer Pomona makes? I’ve used it on the Flitterbloom on my windowsill—it’s quite effective. But Pomona never mentioned it could be brewed into tea."
"Of course not," Snape replied, his eyes narrowing dangerously. "Someone has obviously been sneaking it into my cup, and I am certain—"
Snape’s gaze drifted toward the window, where the Quidditch match continued in full swing. The shouts and cheers of the crowd echoed faintly through the room. With a steely certainty, he said, "The culprit must be one of them." Sёarch* The NovelZone.fun website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.
"Perhaps you're overthinking this, Severus," Dumbledore suggested, his voice light and untroubled. He flicked his finger gently toward the glass. A delicate brown fluff floated out of the liquid, drifting lazily in the air.
The fluff was incredibly fine, no thicker than a strand of hair. If you weren’t paying close attention, you might have missed it entirely.
“What is it, and whose hair is it?” Snape wondered, his mind already running through a mental list of individuals at Hogwarts with brown hair.
“No, Severus, it is not hair. It belongs to a very peculiar animal,” Dumbledore said calmly. “I can tell it is a Niffler's fluff.”
“Niffler?” Snape’s frown deepened.
“Yes, Niffler's downy hair, without a doubt,” Dumbledore clarified. “Nifflers can squeeze through the tiniest gaps, even ones narrower than this fluff.”
“It seems one of the young ones has escaped from the Forbidden Forest,” Dumbledore continued, casting a brief glance at Snape. “And I suspect it followed you all the way to your office—likely because you accidentally produced something shiny.”
“I don’t have any of the ridiculous things you’re talking about,” Snape said, his expression remaining impassive.
“Not necessarily true,” Dumbledore replied with a shake of his head. “Coins, glass bottles, or even silver knives used to cut potions—any of these could catch a Niffler’s eye.”
Snape stepped closer, his tone low and sharp. “So you’re telling me that a Niffler from the Forbidden Forest got into my office, stole nothing, and decided to scatter a handful of fertilizer into my water glass instead? That’s your explanation? Do you believe it?”
“It’s not impossible,” Dumbledore said lightly, his expression unchanged. “And I happen to know someone who understands Nifflers well enough to confirm it for you.”
Snape let out an exasperated snort, his patience clearly wearing thin. He glared at Dumbledore, but the headmaster didn’t so much as blink under his icy stare.
“And, Severus,” Dumbledore added, his tone as calm as ever, “this is a good thing.”
“You call this a good thing?” Snape asked, drawing out the words, his disbelief plain.
“Of course,” Dumbledore explained. “A Niffler doesn’t return to a place where it hasn’t found something. Once it realizes your office holds no treasure, it won’t come back. You can carry on without worry.”
Snape’s expression shifted slightly, his mind clearly piecing together the implication.
“You mean…”
“I was merely discussing Nifflers and magical creatures with you,” Dumbledore said with a small smile, turning back toward the window. “What a marvelous match. I should have gone to see it in person, but the view from here is nearly as good. Care to join me, Severus? It’s quite the spot.”
Snape said nothing. Without a word, he turned on his heel and walked out of the office.
“You forgot something,” Dumbledore called after him, but Snape didn’t so much as pause. He opened the door and strode away.
“How careless…” Dumbledore muttered, waving his wand. The glass of water vanished instantly, leaving no trace behind. Then, with another flick of his wand, a silvery mist flowed from an object resembling a watering can on his desk, dispersing the lingering unpleasant smell.
Meanwhile, on the Quidditch Pitch:
As Grace had predicted, the Gryffindor team was no match for Hufflepuff. The game ended in just twenty minutes.
The issue wasn’t Ron Weasley, as Grace had previously claimed, nor was it the substitute Chaser, Dean Thomas. Both players had performed reasonably well. The real problem lay with Gryffindor’s two new Beaters.
Peakes, one of the Beaters, seemed rattled—whether by nerves or something else—and misjudged a Bludger meant for Kyle. Instead, it veered straight toward Harry.
Harry, completely focused on chasing the Golden Snitch, had no reason to suspect danger from his own team. The Bludger struck him hard, nearly knocking him off his broom.
While Harry scrambled to regain control, Kyle took full advantage of the situation. Accelerating swiftly, he reached out and captured the Snitch right in front of Harry’s eyes.
Madam Hooch’s whistle pierced the air, signaling the end of the game.
Peakes hurried over to Harry, visibly distressed. “I’m sorry!” he blurted, apologizing over and over. “I didn’t mean to—I swear! It was Mikel Derrick! He shouted something behind me, and I got distracted!”
Harry, clutching his arm, looked ready to snap. In the past, he might have done so without hesitation. But now, as team captain, he took a deep breath, suppressing his anger. He let out a weary sigh and said nothing.
Ginny, standing nearby, didn’t hold back and spoke sharply to Peakes. Unfortunately, her words were drowned out by the roaring cheers that filled the stadium, rising and falling like waves.
…
“I knew it! We’re going to win this!” Mikel exclaimed excitedly in the Hufflepuff Changing Rooms. “Those two new Beaters don’t hold a candle to Fred and George.”
“It was so easy... Their intentions were as clear as the frozen Black Lake in winter, as far as I’m concerned,” he added smugly.
“I agree,” chimed in one of the Chasers with a grin. “Especially since it was so simple to dodge the Bludgers today.”
Kyle nodded slightly, sharing their sentiment. Though he had never played as a Seeker before, his experience playing with Fred and George had been far more intense. As twins, their coordination had been unmatched, and they sent Bludgers from all sorts of unpredictable angles. Avoiding them had always required constant vigilance and quick reflexes.
This year’s Gryffindor Beaters, however, were inexperienced and lacked that same synchronicity. Their Bludgers were straightforward, coming from obvious directions, making them far easier to avoid. The game had been... almost too easy.
The problem was, it didn’t feel like much of an accomplishment.
Finally being the Seeker had been something Kyle had anticipated with excitement—a chance to outwit and outplay his opponent in an exhilarating duel for the Golden Snitch. Instead, he had simply caught it without any real effort.
It was... boring.
“Ryan said they’re throwing a party in the common room to celebrate our victory,” Mikel said cheerfully. “We’ll have Butterbeer and everything.”
“Butterbeer?” Keeper Vane asked in surprise. “I thought we weren’t allowed to go to Hogsmeade? Where did they get it?”
“The House-elves helped us out,” Mikel replied with a mischievous grin. “It’s technically not allowed, but as seventh years, we’ve got some privileges.”
“Let’s head over, then,” the others said, laughing as they got changed and began heading toward the castle.
Kyle lingered behind, finishing up, when Kanna arrived. She looked pleased, though she didn’t show it overtly—it was the kind of calm satisfaction that came from expecting a win.
“Cho doesn’t look very happy,” Kanna remarked. “She also told me to tell you to watch out for her in the next match.”
“Ha! As if I’m afraid of her,” Kyle said with a casual wave of his hand.
Anyone who didn’t have a Firebolt wasn’t even worth considering as a serious opponent, as far as he was concerned.
The two of them walked back together, weaving through the crowded pitch and field. Many people congratulated Kyle along the way, shouting and cheering as they passed. Kyle made a point to respond to every one of them, smiling and waving.
…
When they reached the foyer of the castle, Kanna suddenly tugged on Kyle’s robe, pointing toward the staircase.
“Look, who’s that?” she asked.
Kyle followed her gaze and spotted a familiar figure walking up the stairs.
“Malfoy?” he muttered. “What a rare sight. Not only did he skip the game, but he’s actually wandering around outside the Great Hall on his own.”
Kanna gave Kyle a knowing look and a wink.
“Don’t look at me like that,” Kyle said, shrugging. “I already promised I wouldn’t go looking for him, and I meant it.”
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