The next day, Sunday, Hogwarts had been steeped in a joyful atmosphere since morning.
The Quidditch match had begun, and it was the fated showdown between Gryffindor and Hufflepuff.
The little lions in particular had been unable to wait for months, eager to cast off the shadow Hufflepuff had cast over them on the pitch.
In that atmosphere, the one hundred and fifty points they had somehow lost no longer seemed so important.
Their score had long been at the bottom anyway, and compared to the House Cup, they wanted even more to bring back the Quidditch Cup that had been wandering outside for seven years.
Ever since Harry had joined the team, Gryffindor had been unstoppable on the pitch. Yet whenever they faced Hufflepuff, their championship dream had been shattered on the spot—seven times in a row.
The first time, they said Hufflepuff's morale had been too high. The second time, they said their new Seeker had not yet grown familiar with the pitch. The third time, it had rained... But after seven consecutive losses, it was hard for them to find any excuse that held water.
This time, they would take back everything they had lost...
Hm?
Wait.
"Doesn't that person sitting at the teachers' table look kind of familiar?" A third-year little lion leaned close to his friend and asked, "The one sitting beside Professor Hagrid."
His friend instinctively looked up, and his whole expression immediately soured.
"Kyle? Didn't he graduate?!"
Since Kyle had graduated less than a year ago, plenty of people at school still knew him—and remembered his notorious deeds.
In an instant, everyone recalled the terror of being dominated by Kyle's Quaffle.
There had always been a saying on the Hogwarts pitch... If your opponent was Hufflepuff, then pray that your Seeker could catch