Gryffindor Thought They Had This in the Bag

The match hadn't even begun, and Gryffindor had already half won.

At least, that was how they saw it.

It wasn't entirely blind confidence. On paper, their judgment was reasonable. Gryffindor had Harry Potter, a gifted Seeker with a Nimbus 2000 in his first year; they had the experienced Weasley Twins, whose teamwork was superb; and most importantly—

Hufflepuff had never been the kind of team that made opponents nervous before a match.

Hardworking, tenacious, cooperative—hardworking and tenacious. But they were still a long way from being "formidable opponents."

So early on match day, talk throughout the castle leaned in one direction.

"Gryffindor will win, right?"

"Of course. Harry's flying better and better."

"And their Chasers were already good."

"Hufflepuff isn't weak either. It's just... you know."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You know. They're Hufflepuff."

They weren't saying Hufflepuff was bad. They meant—

The name Hufflepuff simply wasn't associated with Quidditch yet.

Gryffindor, by contrast, had produced plenty of legendary players.

So the mood at the Gryffindor table that day was especially good.

Ron had clearly taken a handsome victory for granted. Over breakfast, he helped Harry review his moves from the last practice session, though most of his advice amounted to "Just fly faster" and "They can't catch you"—encouraging, perhaps, but hardly technical.

Harry himself was fairly calm. He was more focused on thinking through today's strategy.

As usual, Hermione had little interest in Quidditch itself, but after so long surrounded by Gryffindor's enthusiasm, even she had begun to assume they probably would win.

Even Ravenclaw leaned toward Gryffindor.

When Cho Chang ran into Cedric beside the pitch, she said quite seriously, "You're going to lose today."

She sounded utterly certain, as though she'd already seen the result.

Cedric didn't get angry. His hands paused briefly as he fastened his goggles, and he glanced toward the Hufflepuff stands.

Gavin stood there with his arms folded, looking perfectly calm.

Cedric turned back to Cho. "I wouldn't be so sure."

Cho raised an eyebrow. "You're confident?"

"Of course."

"Confidence won't win you the match. Prayer might help."

"Then... want to make a bet?"

"On what?"

Cedric shrugged and said casually:

"Anything. If I win, you have to do me a favor."

"Anything?" Cho disliked his attitude enough to grow a little angry. "Fine, let's bet. If you lose, you have to polish my shoes!"

Cedric found her expression amusing, but kindly warned her:

"Don't say I didn't tell you. I've made a little... improvement to my equipment recently."

Cho plainly paid little attention to that.

At Hogwarts, an "improvement to my equipment" usually meant:

One, a better repair job on a Broomstick.

Two, a new pair of goggles.

Three, an overenthusiastic parent had finally remembered their child played Quidditch and sent over a brand-new set of protective gear.

She certainly didn't imagine Cedric's offhand "improvement" was a Nimbus 2000.

By the time both teams walked onto the pitch, the sense that Gryffindor had the match in the bag had spread almost everywhere.

The Gryffindor stands roared. Red-and-gold scarves and flags formed a sea of color, and cheers swept from one end of the pitch to the other. Plenty had come to support Hufflepuff too, but their show of spirit felt more like an effort to make up for a lack of confidence with loyalty and determination.

Once Lee Jordan took his place in the commentary box, he lifted the crowd's excitement another notch.

"Ladies and gentlemen! Welcome to one of the most anticipated matches of the term—Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff!"

"Clearly," he drawled, "Gryffindor fans are ready to celebrate, while Hufflepuff fans—well, perhaps they're ready to enjoy the match."

Laughter and applause burst from the Gryffindor stands.

The Hufflepuff stands answered with boos.

Standing beside Gavin, Justin clicked his tongue.

"I really want to know whether commentators have any professional standards at all."

"They do," Gavin said. "Just not many."

Cedric stood at the edge of the pitch with his Broomstick, looking unusually composed.

He was standing partly in shadow, so nobody noticed anything out of the ordinary.

Harry looked relaxed too.

At least, when the Hufflepuff players began rising into the air, he still hadn't realized anything was amiss.

Until—

Cedric was the last to take off.

And everyone finally got a clear look at his Broomstick.

Slender and streamlined, its polished wooden handle gleamed in the sunlight. Anyone at Hogwarts who knew even a little about Quidditch would recognize that light, sharp design at a glance.

A Nimbus 2000.

The stands fell quiet for a moment.

Then, a beat late, exclamations and astonished chatter erupted.

"Wait—"

"What's that?!"

"A Nimbus 2000?!"

"Where did Hufflepuff get a Nimbus 2000?!"

The cheers in the Gryffindor stands faltered. Ron stared openmouthed at Cedric's Broomstick, looking as though someone had just waved the words "fair competition" in his face.

Harry froze for a moment too.

Not out of fear.

It was sheer surprise.

Until now, everyone at Hogwarts had assumed he was the only one with a Nimbus 2000.

Even Lee Jordan paused for two seconds before finding his voice again:

"Er—well, this is a surprise! Hufflepuff Seeker Cedric Diggory is riding a Nimbus 2000 today too! It seems this match has finally achieved a certain... symmetry in the equipment department!"

Though caught off guard, Gryffindor's confidence remained intact.

The same equipment didn't mean the same result.

Harry had owned his Nimbus 2000 longer, giving him more time to practice and get used to it. Gryffindor also remained the stronger team overall.

So after that brief commotion, the mood around the pitch quickly settled back into place:

It's fine. We can still win.

It's only a Nimbus 2000. We've got one too—and we've got Harry.

That was the prevailing attitude on the Gryffindor side.

In the Hufflepuff stands, Justin was nearly laughing aloud.

"Now I finally understand why you insisted I keep it secret."

Justin himself had only found out recently.

"The element of surprise is part of the strategy," Gavin said.

"I'm starting to like your strategy."

The whistle blew.

Fourteen Broomsticks shot into the sky together.

The match fell into Gryffindor's rhythm almost immediately. They played fiercely.

Their Chasers worked together smoothly, and the twins kept the Bludgers bearing down on Hufflepuff. Each time Hufflepuff got the Quaffle, their formation was broken up before they could advance into the attacking half.

In less than thirty seconds, Gryffindor scored the first ten points.

Lee Jordan's voice leaped an octave.

"Gryffindor scores first! A beautiful start! Hufflepuff is still adjusting, while Gryffindor has charged in like a lion waking from a nap and deciding to get straight to work!"

Another goal.

"Twenty points!"

Then another.

"Thirty points! Hufflepuff's defense today looks like it—doesn't exist!"

A collective sigh rose from the Hufflepuff stands.

Cedric remained calm.

He kept circling overhead, eyes scanning the pitch, his movements steady and unhurried.

Gryffindor played with growing ease.

Hufflepuff, meanwhile, was visibly overwhelmed by their momentum.

Soon, the score reached—

50:0

And less than five minutes had passed since the start.

By then, Lee Jordan's commentary had gone completely into "long live Gryffindor" mode.

"Fifty to nil! Ladies and gentlemen, Gryffindor is in superb form today. Hufflepuff may have brought out a Broomstick to match Harry's, but clearly—equal equipment can't make up for a gap in overall ability!"

The Gryffindor stands erupted.

Ron had jumped up, pumping his fist, and Harry was flying more freely by the second. Even Hufflepuff's surprise Nimbus 2000 now looked like a little pre-match twist rather than something that could change the outcome.

On the Hufflepuff side, nerves were showing. More people began whispering among themselves.

"No way..." one Hufflepuff student muttered.

"It's barely been any time at all..."

"Where's Cedric?"

"It's not like Cedric can use the Golden Snitch to block the goal hoops."

Even Justin stopped smiling and turned to Gavin.

"Are you sure—"

"Keep watching," Gavin said calmly.

Justin could only shut his mouth and turn back to the pitch.

Gavin's tone made it clear he didn't want to explain another word.

And while the scoreboard still read "50:0," everything changed.

Cedric suddenly moved.

With the decisiveness of someone who had spotted his chance a moment early, he plunged downward. One second he had been flying level high above the pitch; the next, he seemed to see something and cut sharply toward it.

Harry reacted at once, wheeling around in pursuit.

But Cedric was riding a Nimbus 2000 this time, not an ordinary Seeker's Broomstick. With their equipment evenly matched, reacting a second late meant losing the advantage.

Cedric committed fully to the dive, flattening himself against his Broomstick to minimize air resistance. Harry followed fast and gradually narrowed the gap. His longer experience with the Nimbus 2000 did give him an edge, but that first second of separation remained an unbridgeable gulf.

Then—

Cedric reached out first.

Gold flashed.

The entire crowd went silent, holding its breath for the result.

Then Lee Jordan spoke, heartbreak audible in his voice:

"Oh, no, he's got it—! Cedric Diggory has caught the Golden Snitch! The match is over!! Hufflepuff wins, one hundred and fifty to fifty!!"

For several seconds, the Hufflepuff stands seemed too stunned to believe it. Then the cheers exploded.

"We won!!!"

"We won!!"

"Cedric!!!"

"Merlin, we actually won!!"

Justin nearly shook Ernie out of his seat, while Ernie was still trying to preserve some dignity for their house. The older Hufflepuffs were so excited they were almost ready to discuss winning the Quidditch Cup—a distant dream they had previously only dared mention in whispers.

This was a crucial match. Whoever won would seize the initiative and have a chance at the trophy.

And this time, they had pulled off an upset when everyone had expected them to lose.

They had won in spectacular fashion, too.

Down fifty to nil at the start.

Less than five minutes in.

The mood across the pitch had flipped completely, and one dive from Cedric had ended the match.

It felt like a miracle bestowed on Hufflepuff.

When Cedric landed, he couldn't hide his excitement and joy. There was something else in his expression, too.

His first thought was: What should I ask Cho Chang to do?

Meanwhile, the mood in the Gryffindor stands was entirely different.

Ron's mouth hung open for ages.

Harry landed beside the pitch, still struggling to process how "Gryffindor has a huge lead, Gryffindor is headed for victory" had somehow turned into "Gryffindor has lost."

Hermione did not really understand the technical details of that move by the Seeker, but she understood the result. Now she looked just as bewildered, hoping someone nearby could explain what had happened.

Especially—

Professor McGonagall's expression.

She stood beside the High Table, utterly shocked, unable to believe she had lost.

She had watched Hufflepuff's previous match and thought it had merely been good luck. That was common enough, so she had paid it little mind.

But now she could scarcely believe her eyes.

The two matches had lasted less than twenty minutes combined. That could no longer simply be chalked up to luck.

She looked at Harry, then at Cedric's Nimbus 2000. Next, her gaze lingered above the pitch as she began to think back:

What exactly had gone wrong?

Had Harry misjudged it?

Or had Hufflepuff really developed some new tactic in training that she had failed to notice?

She felt certain it was not luck. She had to investigate.

She absolutely had to.

In stark contrast to her was Snape.

Professor Snape had originally come simply to watch a Quidditch match and, while Quirrell was absent, protect the detestable Harry along the way.

Now, however, he was visibly in a very good mood. Even the corners of his mouth had begun to rise, a rare sight indeed.

Gryffindor had lost. The arrogant Harry Potter had lost.

Those two things together were already enough to make his dinner taste better that evening. Better still, the manner of the defeat left little room for argument—no biased refereeing, no equipment advantage, no outside mishap. Their Seeker had simply been beaten to the catch.

"This is perfectly normal," Snape consoled Professor McGonagall beside him, his tone light. "Potter is simply too inept, just like his arrogant father. He always assumes that once he mounts a Broomstick, he is entitled to be a step ahead of everyone else."

Professor McGonagall whipped her head around to look at him.

"Severus—"

"What?" Snape said mildly. "Everyone gets lucky sometimes. Diggory was in good form today. You can win it back next year."

His words sounded calm, but the faint smile he could barely suppress had all but given away his true feelings.

He was genuinely delighted. Even his black robes billowed a little higher than usual as he left.

That good mood even lasted into the following week's Potions class.

When Snape reached Cedric's table on his rounds, he glanced down into his cauldron. Then, before any of the Hufflepuff students could register what was happening, he said evenly:

"Diggory, good control of your stirring rhythm. One point to Hufflepuff."

The entire Dungeon Classroom fell silent for two seconds.

Then every student on the Hufflepuff side looked up, their expressions almost identically saying:

"Huh?"

Even Cedric himself froze.

He looked down at his cauldron, then at Snape's retreating back, his expression plainly conveying a bewildered, Did my ears just walk into the wrong classroom?

The incident became a topic of conversation over dinner and reached Gavin and the others.

Even Ernie thought Snape was awarding Cedric a point for his brilliant Quidditch performance.

After discussing it, everyone agreed:

This time, Gryffindor's defeat had been well worth it.