The Long-Awaited Quidditch Match
November had settled over Hogwarts, signalling the start of Quidditch season and painting the castle grounds in hues of amber and crimson. The temperature had begun to drop, bringing with it the promise of winter, but the cooling weather did little to dampen the fiery anticipation that crackled through the halls.
It had been two years since Hogwarts last held a Quidditch match, and to say the school was buzzing with excitement would be an understatement. Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs were placing bets, and banter between Slytherins and Gryffindors had reached an all-time high.
The Grand Hall was decked out in red and gold banners on one side and silver and green on the other. Long serpentine banners slithered and curled through the air, while Gryffindor lions roared from enchanted tapestries. The energy was palpable—today was Slytherin vs. Gryffindor, the most anticipated Quidditch match this year.
At the Slytherin table, Astoria sat with Ominis and Nerida, their plates already filled as they listened to the chatter around them. Sebastian and Imelda were in pre-match briefing with the rest of the team.
The doors to the Grand Hall suddenly burst open, and in strode the Gryffindor Quidditch team to a grand entrance of thunderous applause and cheers from their housemates. Boisterous as ever, they strolled in confidently, scarlet robes billowing. Garreth Weasley's wild red hair was easy to spot amidst the crowd. His eyes immediately searched the crowd and burst into a wide grin when they landed on Astoria—his entire face lit up. She gave him a small wave, and he waved back animatedly. His teammates elbowed and shoved him teasingly, laughing as he flushed before settling into his usual easy grin.
They made their way to the Gryffindor table, their energy infectious. But just as they were settling down, the doors swung open once more.
The Slytherin team entered.
Imelda led them in the front, her chin lifted high in prideful confidence. Sebastian stood out easily, his height and broad frame making him an unmistakable presence—even as he slouched slightly, one hand in his pocket.
The Slytherin table erupted into cheers and whistles, their house pride on full display. Unlike the Gryffindors' raucous entrance, Slytherin's was measured and cool, each member carrying an air of calculated confidence.
Sebastian scanned the room nonchalantly, his gaze sweeping over the crowd—until his eyes met Astoria's.
His lopsided grin appeared almost instantly, a slow, easy smirk that sent a ripple of giggles through a group of watching girls. Astoria rolled her eyes, but couldn't fight the small smile tugging at her lips.
Sebastian joined his teammates at the other end of the Slytherin table.
The chatter resumed, plates clinking as students dug into their breakfast, fuelling up for the excitement ahead.
Then, from a distance, Sebastian noticed something displeasing.
Garreth Weasley stood up from the Gryffindor table, making his way toward Slytherins.
Sebastian's expression darkened as he followed Garreth's every step.
He approached Astoria with his usual sunny disposition and wide, dimpled grin.
"Good morning to my favourite Slytherin!" Garreth greeted cheerfully. "And Ominis." He nodded.
Ominis tuts in response. If he could roll his eyes, he would.
Astoria returned his smile. "Good morning, Garreth. You look like you're in good spirits."
"I am," he said brightly. "Woke up bright and early, got a solid warm-up in, managed not to fall off my broom and brewed a Pocus Potion—"
"A what?" Astoria laughs.
"A Pocus potion. A mix between a Focus and Pepper Up potion, will right you up for a good day of no nonsense, I'd say. My very own concoction."
"I'd almost say that is impressive, if the name didn't suggest otherwise." Astoria laughs always astounded by how creative Garreth gets with his genius, yet borderline reckless 'experimenting'.
"Bold of you to assume that whatever you brew qualifies as an actual potion." Ominis scoffs.
Garreth crosses his arms. "I’ll have you know, Gaunt, that some of us like to push the boundaries of potion-making. Innovation requires risk."
"Well, you managed to wake up, not die, and brew something questionable all before breakfast. I suppose that does make you a renaissance man."
Garreth smirked. "Exactly. An artist of the cauldron, if you will."
"Have you ever considered that, perhaps, you've unintentionally concocted a Babbling Beverage instead?" Ominis quips dryly.
Garreth strokes his chin in mock thought. "Hmm, well, Babbling requires an Erumpent Tongue… but I’m fairly certain I used a Dugbog one. Probably."
Ominis exhales sharply, rubbing his temples. "Hundreds of students in this hall, how is it that your voice still manages to be the most grating?"
"Oh, will you two give it a rest already?" Astoria huffed, shaking her head but smiling. "You’re both exhausting. Almost as bad as Sebastian, how do you do this every morning?"
Garreth chuckles "It's certainly a gift." He turns back to Astoria, a light flush rising in his cheeks "Speaking of gifts, I came to say, even though our houses are rivals today, I was hoping you'd still wish me well and cheer for me—as a friend, of course."
Astoria smiled. "Naturally, I want you to give it your best shot out there. I wouldn't expect anything less."
"Good answer," Garreth said with a wink, before revealing something hidden behind his back—a scarlet and gold ribbon embroidered with the Gryffindor lion. "I know it's too much to ask you to wear our jersey, seeing as you're a Slytherin, but... maybe you could hold onto this? As my lucky charm."
Astoria hesitated before accepting it. "That's... very thoughtful, Garreth. Thank you."
Across the table, Sebastian's chair scraped loudly against the floor.
Imelda gaped. "Can you believe the audacity of this twat?" she hissed. "Coming to the Slytherin table, asking a Slytherin to cheer for him on—in his wildest dreams!"
But Sebastian didn't hear the next part. He was already taking long strides across the room, stripping off his Slytherin Quidditch jersey along the way, revealing a form-fitting black undershirt beneath. Conversations hushed. The girls on the Ravenclaw table plainly gawking at him.
Sebastian pushed himself between Astoria and Garreth, standing just slightly too close to the latter.
His voice sharp with warning. "Nice of you to bring gifts, Weasley." He plucked the ribbon from Astoria's hands, pressing it back into Garreth's chest. "But I'm afraid Astoria's already spoken for. She's cheering for Slytherin—and for me. So, no room for divided loyalties."
Then, he dropped his own Slytherin jersey into her lap.
Astoria blinked at the absurdity of the situation. Garreth, to his credit, remained unfazed.
"Well, Sallow," Garreth said, grinning, "I suppose that means we'll just have to settle things on the pitch then, won't we?"
Sebastian smirked. "You can count on it."
Astoria, now holding a Slytherin jersey, sighed. "You two are unbelievable." She handed Sebastian's jersey back to him. "Firstly, you need this to actually play the game, you idiot."
Then she turned to Garreth. "And as much as I appreciate the gesture Garreth, I intend to cheer for my own house."
Garreth shrugged good-naturedly. "Fair enough. But if we win the game—" his grin widened, "—you'll have to accept my gift then."
Sebastian bristled, but Astoria simply laughed. "We'll see about that."
The rivalry was set.
The match was going to be electrifying.