"Did Ron manage to save the ball or not...?"
Fred looked at Harry, who still clung to a sliver of hope, and felt a little sorry for him.
"Uh... he... if nobody was watching him, I think Ron probably could have saved it..."
George, however, mocked him with glee, without the slightest sympathy for his younger brother.
"Then we're doomed. Our next important mission is to twist every student's head around on match day. Sounds exciting, doesn't it?"
After hearing Harry's news, Hermione seemed somewhat impatient. She thought Harry and the others ought to focus more on their upcoming exams.
She felt Quidditch was just a game, yet it had made relations between the students of all four Houses extremely tense. Even when they ran into one another, they acted like enemies.
But the Weasley twins did not care in the slightest about the upcoming N.E.W.T. exams. They were more concerned with the magical products they had invented, especially their signature Skiving Snackbox, which was finally complete.
Sure enough, after watching Saturday's Quidditch match, Harry felt Hermione had been right. How he wished that, from the day he first came to Hogwarts Academy, he had never known Quidditch existed. Really, he would have paid any number of Galleons for that.
The only fortunate thing about the match was that it had been fairly short, lasting only twenty minutes. Yet Gryffindor had lost thirty to three hundred and ninety...
Ron had missed fourteen saves. Sloper swung his bat straight into Angelina's mouth. Zacharias Smith, Quaffle in hand, charged about as if he had entered an empty field, while Kirke faced the oncoming Zacharias Smith and let out a roar. Harry had thought Kirke's hidden power had erupted, but then he fell backward off his broom.
It was unbearable to watch. Truly