Quidditch Match Begins

Chapter 42

The Quidditch match was set to start close to midnight.

Yet Brook was far too excited to sleep at all.

Without hesitation, he entered the Ring Space, eager to try out the rewards he had earned.

"What a perfect match!"

Brook stared at "Hermione" in the mirror, unable to help but marvel.

Now, not only did his appearance match Hermione's without a single difference, but even his clothes and voice were identical.

If he appeared like this at Hogwarts right now, no one would ever see through him.

Then, with a thought, his body began to twist and warp in an instant.

In the blink of an eye, he transformed into a majestic lion.

Next, he became a soaring eagle.

Running and flying felt as natural as instinct.

He didn't need any time to adapt at all.

He could already master these two completely different forms with ease.

After experiencing the wonder of Fetal Transformation, Brook summoned the Flying Pig.

He circled around the Flying Pig once.

The Flying Pig was round and plump all over, with large, fan-like ears drooping on either side of its head.

Its short, stubby legs supported its chubby body, giving it an utterly endearing look.

"Hello there, Flying Pig."

The Flying Pig let out two "oinks" in response to Brook.

"Turn into a sports car, let's see it." Brook said with great interest.

The Flying Pig tilted its head, its two black bean-like little eyes full of confusion.

"Can't do it?"

The Flying Pig shook its head.

"So you don't know what a sports car looks like, and that's why you can't change?"

"Oink!" The Flying Pig nodded vigorously.

"What about the Wind Fire Wheels, then?"

"Oink."

In an instant, rings of blazing red light rippled around the Flying Pig's body.

Then, its body began to spin at a dizzying speed, faster and faster, until its outline was almost impossible to make out.

With a crackling sound, its body split in two, each half turning into a pair of fire wheels.

The flames on the wheels writhed and leaped wildly, radiating waves of scorching heat.

Brook: (ㅍ_ㅍ)✧

He cautiously reached out a hand and tried touching the edge of the flames.

His finger felt no burning sensation at all.

So, he stepped onto them with confidence.

It didn't feel like standing on wheels at all; instead, it was as steady as standing on flat ground.

A slight smile curled at the corner of Brook's mouth. "Fly."

The Wind Fire Wheels immediately lifted him into the air.

He raced freely through the Ring Space.

"Brook, time to get up."

A crisp voice rang out.

Brook rolled over and continued sleeping soundly.

He must have been hearing things—he thought he'd heard Hermione's voice.

"Brook!"

The voice came again, this time louder.

Brook rubbed his bleary eyes, and a familiar face instantly came into view.

"Hermione, what are you doing here?"

He snapped awake a little.

Then, he quickly looked around.

Right, no mistake!

This really was his dormitory, not the girls' one.

"The Quidditch match is about to start, get up now," Hermione urged.

Brook had played late into the night and only fallen asleep, exhausted, near dawn.

His brain was still struggling to catch up.

"Wait, Hermione, how did you get into the boys' dorm?"

"To wake you up!" Hermione explained impatiently.

"Hogwarts rule: girls can enter the boys' dorm, but boys can't enter the girls' dorm."

She grabbed Brook's wizard robes and handed them to him.

"Seriously... that's blatant discrimination," Brook muttered under his breath.

"Can't find the book by title? Try searching by author—maybe it just got renamed!"

"What, you want to go into the girls' dorm?" Hermione's eyes flashed dangerously.

"Ahem." Brook did think that, but he couldn't say it.

"I mean, it'd only be fair if neither could go in."

"Enough, just get up. I'll wait for you outside."

Hermione turned and headed for the door, adding, "Hurry up."

"Can I skip it? I'm not interested in Quidditch."

Brook made one last attempt.

"I've been feeling pretty tired writing two assignments lately."

"Fine, I'm up."

Writing assignments? Not happening. Never in this life.

Brook yawned and shuffled out of the dorm slowly.

He stretched wide and turned to look at Hermione.

"Seriously, aren't you not into ball sports?"

"Who said I'm not?" Hermione shot him a glare.

"I watch soccer with my dad all the time, I just don't like talking about it."

Brook suddenly felt a bit queasy.

Don't mention soccer. It gives him a headache.

But Daxia's soccer should be pretty good around this time, right?

Should he try to save it?

The Quidditch match was scheduled for noon.

Whoever set that time had no sense.

Eating right before exercise—how bad is that for your stomach?

By the time Brook and Hermione reached the Quidditch pitch, the stands were packed.

It looked like the whole school had shown up.

"Brook, Hermione, over here, over here!"

Ron stood in the crowd, waving his arm and shouting at them.

Brook and Hermione headed toward the voice, finding Neville, Seamus, and the others there too.

His whole dorm was present.

They'd made a huge banner out of a bedsheet.

It read "Potter Will Win" in bold letters, with a majestic Gryffindor lion painted below.

Cheering Harry on.

Everyone was excited, except Brook, whose eyes were glazed as he kept yawning.

"Didn't sleep well last night?" Hermione asked.

"A bit," Brook said, rubbing his eyes.

"Maybe you should go back to bed!"

"Since I'm here, might as well watch it through!"

"Ah, it's my fault. I shouldn't have forced you to come."

"What are you talking about? As if you could really drag me here."

Brook spotted movement on the field and quickly changed the subject. "Look, Harry and the others are coming out."

Hermione's attention was drawn away.

The Gryffindor Quidditch team wore bright red robes.

Slytherin wore green.

They filed out of the changing rooms from opposite ends and entered the center of the pitch.

Gryffindor's lineup:

Chasers: Angelina Johnson, Alicia Spinnet, and Katie Bell;

Beaters: Fred Weasley and George Weasley;

Keeper: Oliver Wood;

Seeker: Harry Potter.

Slytherin's side included Marcus Flint and others.

The students and staff in the stands immediately burst into thunderous applause.

Madam Hooch, serving as the referee for this match, gripped her broom tightly, with a box at her feet.

She was waiting for the teams to arrive.

First, she opened the box and released the Golden Snitch and the Bludgers.

Then she signaled the players to mount their brooms.

With a sharp blast, Madam Hooch blew her whistle, the piercing sound cutting through the air.

At the same time, she tossed the Quaffle high into the air.

In an instant, fifteen brooms shot skyward like arrows from a bow.

Johnson, with her quick reflexes and agile moves, snatched the Quaffle first.

The match had officially begun.

(A bonus chapter for the loyal Imperial and esteemed readers! Late, but here!)