Quidditch Showdown

After the Halloween incident had passed, a few things changed in the castle.

That is, Professor Quirinus Quirrell, who taught Defense Against the Dark Arts, resigned.

"So you used a nonexistent treasure to make all the dark wizards in London your informants?"

Up on the high platform, Dumbledore seemed no different from the other fervent teachers and students, but he was secretly communicating with Klein.

He wore a thick silver-gray robe and held a small flag in each hand.

Gryffindor and Slytherin.

Today was the Quidditch match between the two houses!

"They're not informants. I'm just giving Voldemort a little trouble so he won't have the time to cause any mischief."

In the green section representing Slytherin, Klein smiled casually, not telling the whole truth.

The piece he'd planted in Knockturn Alley wasn't just there to keep Voldemort in check.

"What exactly are you planning, Klein? What do you want?"

Dumbledore realized he seemed to be finding it harder and harder to see through the boy.

Perhaps what he'd once thought was understanding had merely been the other party's disguise?

The feeling that he could only hope the boy wouldn't stray down a dark path, while being powerless to stop him—or even nip the first signs of it in the bud—

was truly exhausting.

"Don't worry. I don't want anything."

Klein still smiled faintly, his sapphire-blue eyes utterly calm.

He wanted nothing because he could easily obtain anything.

The peace he longed for meant that nothing could make him feel anxiety, unease, panic, or any other negative emotion.

Everything had to unfold exactly as he envisioned it.

Confidence? Arrogance? Conceit?

Perhaps all of them.

But that was who he was: the one and only Klein Grindelwald.

A madman who wanted to reach the pinnacle of magic once more, by a different path!

"I'll keep an eye on you and stop you from doing anything reckless.

At least while I'm alive."

Through their private communication, Dumbledore muttered under his breath, his voice full of helplessness.

Were all Grindelwalds cut from the same cloth?

"Watch the match, Mister Headmaster. Watch the match."

Klein naturally had no idea that he'd made "the greatest wizard" feel old.

As the two teams of Quidditch players rose into the air, he shouted enthusiastically for show, then cut off their connection.

"Slytherin, go, go, go!" "Take them down!" "Knock Potter off his broom!"

Unlike Klein, who remained calm, the Slytherin students around him were swept up in an unbelievable frenzy.

Their waving banners merged into a surging green sea.

Not far away, the atmosphere in the Gryffindor section was much the same.

Red and green, gold and silver.

The storm of rivalry had begun!

"All right, I'm your friend, Lee Jordan. The match is underway, and Gryffindor's Angelina Johnson has grabbed the Quaffle right off the bat. She's an outstanding Chaser, and she's quite a looker, too—"

At the commentary booth, the young Black man with dreadlocks had just started to get carried away when Professor McGonagall mercilessly cut him off.

The stern witch sat in the second seat at the commentary booth, keeping a close eye on Lee Jordan's every word and action.

Well, actually, her main goal was to watch the match up close.

She was a huge Quidditch fan~

"Sorry, Professor. Back to the match: Angelina passes to Alicia Spinnet. Oh no, Slytherin's stolen the Quaffle!"

Lee Jordan was a Gryffindor, and his bias as a commentator was obvious.

When Slytherin's Marcus Flint made a brilliant steal, he actually groaned.

Meanwhile, the green sea of Slytherin erupted in thunderous cheers. Even Klein, deep in the crowd, couldn't help giving a slight nod.

Their Slytherin captain had a few tricks up his sleeve.

Slytherin's captain had taken the lead, but Gryffindor's captain, Wood, wasn't one to be underestimated either.

He cut across, swung his bat, and made a beautiful interception. Marcus Flint failed to score, and possession returned to Gryffindor.

For a while, the two houses went back and forth, evenly matched.

"So does the Seeker's position really need to exist?"

After watching all the fancy tricks and complicated flying maneuvers, Klein's gaze drifted away from the players on the pitch.

He narrowed his eyes and searched for a moment before focusing on Harry Potter, who was playing for the first time.

If he had to pick one word to describe the Seeker in Quidditch, it would be "bystander."

You carry the Quaffle? I'm AFK.

You steal the Quaffle? I'm AFK.

You score? I'm AFK.

A Bludger's coming, I—

No, can't AFK for that.

I'll dodge first, then go back to being AFK~

There was no sense of involvement at all.

All in all, Klein thought it was an incredibly boring and thankless position.

Plain and simple, and dull.

But for some reason, the Seeker seemed to be the most important position on every team—the so-called center of attention.

Wizards certainly had strange ways of thinking.

"Send him off! Red card, red card!"

Klein was lost in thought when Lee Jordan's booming voice suddenly brought him back to reality.

Looking closely, he saw that Slytherin captain Marcus Flint had used a dirty trick to catch Harry off guard, nearly knocking him off his broom.

Gryffindor immediately erupted in loud boos and angry shouts, while Slytherin cheered.

Klein smiled, unconcerned.

It was a sport. Bumps and bruises were inevitable, and wasn't it perfectly normal to use a few tricks to win?

But the referee clearly didn't share his typically Slytherin attitude, so Gryffindor was awarded a penalty.

The match continued.

"Oh, watch out!"

Gryffindor was temporarily in the lead, but Ron and the others couldn't relax.

Those Slytherins were so mean, constantly coming up with underhanded tricks!

Among the girls, Hermione was tense too, crying out again and again until the paper bag in her hands was crushed out of shape.

"Slytherins are awful!"

The two houses had long been at odds. The reckless lions had never been able to do much about the sly snakes, and things were no different now. Their players were trying their best, but they could hardly keep up with the endless dirty tricks.

The score was tied. Gryffindor fell behind. Then they fell far behind.

Many Gryffindors turned as red with anger as their banners.

Then, a huge change took place on the pitch.

It was Harry.

Harry Potter had spotted the Golden Snitch!

He dipped low and plunged toward the ground at top speed.

It was an unbelievably reckless move.

But—

He did it!

The match was over. Gryffindor had won the final victory!

"Hmph."

In the Slytherin stand, Snape watched the figure cheering on his broom, his face openly full of disgust.

But when those green eyes lit up with excitement, he fell silent and turned his head away without a word.