Even in fine weather, England in April was still cold and damp with winter only just behind it, but that did nothing to dampen the excitement of Hogwarts' only sporting competition.
On the dedicated Quidditch Pitch not far from the castle, more than a dozen young wizards hurtled through the air above the green grass, while cheers rang out from the surrounding stands until the spectators were hoarse.
"Go, Slytherin!"
"Go, Gryffindor!"
The students in both houses' stands and the players on the pitch were all giving it everything they had, because today's match would decide the winner and runner-up of this term's Quidditch Cup.
The enormous scoreboard read Red 140 VS Green 160.
Lee Jordan, the Quidditch match commentator, was throwing himself into his commentary.
"Oh! Marcus has intercepted our lovely Chaser Angelina! That giant blood of his certainly shows-even without fouling, no one can stand up to his charges."
"Haha, but Wood lives up to his name as Gryffindor's sharp-eyed guardian of the hoops! Marcus failed to score!"
"The gap is still hovering around twenty points. Every time the Red Team scores, the Green Team scores too. It looks as though it'll all come down to the Seekers!"
"But we have the prodigy Potter! Victory will belong to Gryffindor!"
"Boo!"
Boos rose from the stands. Lee Jordan nimbly tilted his head, dodging a stinking "Thirty and Thriving" sock hurled by some unknown spectator.
He was just about to condemn whoever had stooped so low as to deploy a biological weapon.
"Ahem."
"Oh, Professor. Sorry, sorry."
Behind Lee Jordan, Professor McGonagall shared his belief that Gryffindor would win, but she still had to interrupt his increasingly biased commentary.
On the pitch, having failed to score, Marcus glared at Wood, who was taunting him from in front of the hoops