Mastermind

The golden light of the setting sun bathed the enormous stadium, casting long shadows across the bustling crowd. The atmosphere was electric, with fans dressed in green and gold for Ireland or scarlet for Bulgaria, waving flags and chanting team songs. Harry could feel the excitement buzzing in the air as he followed Mr. Weasley through the maze of staircases leading to their seats.

    “Keep up, everyone!” Mr. Weasley called over his shoulder, clutching the family’s ticket bundle. “We’re almost there!”

    Fred and George were a few steps ahead, already teasing Percy about how the Irish mascot might take one look at him and turn to stone. Ginny was trying to suppress her laughter while Ron was clutching his miniature Viktor Krum figurine, making it dive through the air with mock commentary.

    “Honestly, could this place be any bigger?” Hermione said, craning her neck to take in the sheer size of the arena.

    “Just wait until you see the pitch,” Ginny replied, her heart racing at the thought. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

    As they turned a corner onto a wider staircase, the chatter of the crowd seemed to quiet for a moment, replaced by a distinctly familiar drawl.

    “Well, well, if it isn’t the Weasley clan and their… entourage.”

    The voice sent a chill down Harry’s spine. The group stopped abruptly as Lucius Malfoy and his family stepped into view. Lucius was as immaculate as ever, his long, pale hair catching the sunlight, while his cane—complete with its silver serpent handle—gleamed ominously. At his side, Narcissa Malfoy stood in elegant robes of deep emerald, her expression as cool and unapproachable as ever. And behind them was Draco, smirking with his usual superiority, his grey eyes landing on Harry with a gleam of satisfaction.

    “Heading up to the nosebleeds, are you?” Lucius continued, his tone dripping with disdain. His gaze lingered briefly on Mr. Weasley’s slightly threadbare robes before flicking dismissively to Harry and Hermione.

    “We’re going to enjoy the match, just like everyone else,” Mr. Weasley replied evenly, though there was a tightness to his jaw.

    “Ah, but not quite like everyone else,” Lucius said smoothly, gesturing with his cane to the gleaming VIP badges pinned to his chest and Narcissa’s. “Some of us have the privilege of sitting where we belong—front and center, where the real action is.”

    “Didn’t realize sitting closer made you better at Quidditch,” Fred muttered loud enough for Lucius to hear, earning a snort from George and a furious glance from Percy.

    Draco sneered. “You’ll have to squint to see anything from where you lot are sitting. But then again, I suppose you’re used to scraps, aren’t you?”

    Harry took a step forward, fists clenched, but Hermione grabbed his arm. “Not worth it,” she muttered under her breath.

    “Come along, Draco,” Narcissa said coolly, her eyes flicking over the group with mild disinterest. “No need to waste your breath.”

    Lucius gave one last sneering glance at Mr. Weasley. “Do try to keep your lot in line, Arthur. Wouldn’t want any… incidents.” He scanned at the redheads until his eyes landed on Hermione.

    With that, the Malfoys swept past, their expensive robes trailing behind them like a storm cloud. Draco threw one last smirk over his shoulder before disappearing into the crowd.

    Fred and George mimicked Lucius’s stiff, pompous stride the moment they were out of earshot, drawing a reluctant laugh from Hermione.

    “Never mind them,” Mr. Weasley said firmly, though his ears were glowing red. “Come on, the match is about to start.”

    As they resumed their climb, Harry glanced at Hermione. “One day,” he muttered, “I’d love to wipe that smirk off Draco’s face.”

    Hermione smiled tightly. “One day, Harry. But not today.”

    Ron, still clutching his Viktor Krum figurine, muttered darkly, “I bet even Krum could knock him off his broom.”

    The tension gradually melted away as they approached their seats, the roar of the stadium growing louder with every step. Harry pushed the encounter with the Malfoys out of his mind. Tonight wasn’t about them—it was about the greatest game of Quidditch he’d ever see.

    And nothing, not even the Malfoys, could ruin that.

                                                                                                                      ***

The stadium roars with the thunderous cheers of fans, flags from both nations waving vibrantly in the stands. Fireworks burst across the sky as the referee, a strict-looking wizard with a whistle hanging from his neck, steps forward to release the balls into play.

    The Quaffle is released, and Ireland’s Chaser Connor O’Malley immediately snatches it, darting toward the Bulgarian hoops. Bulgarian Keeper Petar Vasilov blocks O’Malley’s first attempt with an impressive dive.

    The Bludgers are in play, with Bulgaria’s Beater Dragan Ivanov targeting Ireland’s star Chaser, Aoife Callahan, forcing her to dodge repeatedly.

    Bulgaria gains possession, with their star Chaser Elena Dimitrova weaving through the Irish defense. She passes to Viktor Dimitrov, who scores! Bulgaria leads 10–0. Callahan recovers her composure and breaks through Bulgaria’s defensive line with a daring feint. She scores three times in quick succession, supported by brilliant assists from Chasers Finn Gallagher and O’Malley. Ireland takes the lead 30–10.

    The crowd erupts as Irish Beater Eoin Flanagan knocks a Bludger straight at Bulgarian Seeker Victor Krum, forcing him to pull out of a dive and giving Ireland’s Seeker, Caitlin O’Donovan, time to search for the Snitch. Ivanov retaliates by targeting O’Malley, who drops the Quaffle after being hit squarely in the ribs. Dimitrova capitalizes, scoring twice in quick succession. The Bulgarian Chasers, known for their aggressive style, close the gap. Score: 30–30.

    Meanwhile, Krum begins an aggressive pursuit of the Golden Snitch, forcing O’Donovan to stay on his tail. Gallagher performs a stunning Sloth Grip Roll to evade a Bludger and scores with an impressive backhand shot. Ireland’s Keeper, Liam O’Hare, makes three incredible saves in a row, frustrating the Bulgarian offense.

    Callahan dives under Dimitrova’s broom to intercept the Quaffle and scores again. The Irish fans are ecstatic. Ireland leads 60–30. Both Seekers spot the Snitch hovering near the Irish goalposts. Krum dives first, with O’Donovan hot on his heels. The crowd holds its breath as the two Seekers race neck-and-neck, weaving through players and dodging Bludgers. Krum’s superior reflexes allow him to grab the Snitch, but the referee calls a foul on Bulgaria for Cobbing during the dive, nullifying the catch.

    With the Bulgarian team rattled by the disallowed Snitch grab, Ireland takes full advantage. Gallagher and Callahan score a combined four goals in quick succession, widening the gap to 100–30.

    Krum, desperate for redemption, spots the Snitch again and launches into a breathtaking Wronski Feint. O’Donovan is nearly fooled but recovers just in time to block his path.

    In a heart-stopping finale, Krum dives one final time, narrowly evading a Bludger from Flanagan. This time, there’s no mistake—he snatches the Snitch just as it darts past the Bulgarian goalposts. Bulgaria scores 150 points with the catch!

    KRUM! KRUM! KRUM, the chat echoed throughout the stadium.

    The Bulgarian fans explode in celebration as Krum raises the Snitch triumphantly, but the Irish supporters cheer just as loudly for their team’s incredible performance. Though Ireland dominated in Quaffle play, Krum’s brilliance as a Seeker secured Bulgaria’s narrow victory.

    Final Score, Ireland 170 points, Bulgaria 180.

    As the final whistle blew and the deafening cheers of the Bulgarian supporters filled the stadium, Hermione sat back in her seat, her arms crossed, a distinct frown creasing her brow.

    “Well,” she huffed, “that was… dramatic, wasn’t it?”

    Ron, who was on his feet, hollering about Krum’s brilliance, turned to her with an incredulous look. “Dramatic? That was amazing! Did you see Krum? That Wronski Feint! And that dive! He’s the best Seeker in the world, Hermione!”

    Hermione rolled her eyes. “Oh, honestly, Ron, you’d think he was some sort of hero just because he caught the Snitch. Did you completely miss the fact that Bulgaria’s Beaters were practically attacking the Irish players? And what about that foul during Krum’s first attempt? Cobbing—clear as day! The referee had to call it off!”

    Harry, who had been watching the celebrations with a smile, shrugged. “She’s got a point, Ron. It wasn’t exactly clean play.”

    Ron turned red, looking scandalized. “It’s a World Cup final! Of course, it’s going to get a bit rough! That’s what makes it brilliant!”

    “Brilliant?” Hermione shot back, raising her eyebrows. “Poor Connor O’Malley could barely hold onto his broom after that Bludger hit! And did you see Aoife Callahan? She was practically boxed in by Dimitrova and Ivanov for the entire second half. If you ask me, Ireland showed far better teamwork and strategy. They would’ve won outright if it weren’t for Krum.”

    Ron groaned, running a hand through his hair. “That’s the point, Hermione. Krum did catch the Snitch, and that’s how the game works. Stop acting like it’s some kind of essay competition!”

    Hermione narrowed her eyes, her tone sharpening. “Oh, don’t you start, Ronald Weasley. Just because you think Krum’s some kind of—of Quidditch god doesn’t mean I can’t point out the obvious flaws in Bulgaria’s sportsmanship. Ireland deserved to win. End of story.”

    Before Ron could retort, Harry stepped in with a grin. “All right, all right. Let’s agree on one thing: it was one of the best matches we’ve ever seen.”

    Hermione sighed, her expression softening slightly as she glanced at the pitch. “I suppose it was exciting. But it just goes to show; sometimes it’s not the most skilled team that wins—it’s the team that bends the rules just enough to get away with it.”

    Ron threw up his hands in frustration. “You’re impossible.”

    “And you’re predictable,” Hermione replied primly, though a small smile tugged at her lips as they followed the rest of the crowd out of the stadium.