The chairman of the International Association of Quidditch-Hassan Mostafa-was a short, wiry wizard whose completely bald head gleamed beneath the lights illuminating the pitch.
He had an enormous beard that more than rivaled Hagrid's. Perhaps because he had no hair left on his head, he took particular care of the beard beneath his chin, keeping it neatly groomed and glossy.
Mostafa took out the silver whistle hidden beneath his solid gold robes and kicked open the trunk at his feet, which he had brought onto the pitch.
Whoosh, whoosh! Four balls shot into the sky: a bright red Quaffle, two black Bludgers, and a tiny, golden Golden Snitch with fluttering wings. The Golden Snitch paused before everyone's eyes for only a moment before vanishing in an instant.
Mostafa blew his silver whistle, mounted his broom, and flew into the sky after the four balls.
"And they're off!" Bagman began his impassioned commentary from the top box. Everyone raised their binoculars and watched the match on the pitch intently.
It truly was the finest Quidditch competition in the entire wizarding world. The pace was several notches above Quidditch at Hogwarts. Players from both sides chased the balls flying wildly through the air, darting back and forth with the speed of their Firebolts. Every so often, a loud crack rang through the air as a bat struck a Bludger with tremendous force.
"Troy scores!" Bagman roared. The entire stadium erupted in cheers that shook the stands. "Ten-nil! The Irish Team takes the lead!"
At the same time, one of the zeroes on the blackboard was erased and replaced with a "10."
"What happened? What happened?" Harry searched anxiously through his Omnioculars, shouting, "But Levski has the Quaffle!"
"Harry." Su Er lowered his binoculars, leaned over, and gave Harry's arm a firm pat.