Hogwarts: I Am Such a Model Wizard

Chapter 208: Snape’s Solo Performance

As the only Keeper captain among the four teams, Wood’s skill was indisputable. Kyle hadn’t really expected to score right at the start, though—this opening shot was just to get a feel for the game. Now he knew: this match was going to be a tough one.

“We’re in trouble,” he muttered, his face serious, a flicker of regret passing over him. Shutting Gryffindor out with zero points wasn’t going to be easy... If he’d known, he wouldn’t have bragged to Cedric just now.

On the other side of the pitch, Wood threw him a smug wink before launching the Quaffle to a teammate downfield.

“And Gryffindor’s got the Quaffle now… It’s Chaser Alicia Spinnet! A talent discovered by Oliver Wood’s sharp eye—last year, she was only a reserve!” Lee Jordan’s commentary rang out, his voice noticeably louder and more animated than before.

“The ball is passed to Katie Bell… Oh, but Hufflepuff snatches it back! It’s Kyle again, moving like he’s born to fly—goodness, he’s incredible at dodging that Bludger without slowing down! Why isn’t he a Seeker… Sorry, Diggory, I didn’t mean anything by it.”

Cedric glanced at the commentary box, mildly annoyed, but he had to admit Lee Jordan was right—Kyle was fantastic in the air. As for why Kyle wasn’t playing Seeker… Cedric had once asked him the same thing, even offering to compete for the position fairly if he wanted it. But Kyle had just laughed and turned him down without a second thought, saying, “I love the game of Quidditch, not some silly game of hide-and-seek with a Golden Snitch.”

It was an important position, though… Cedric just shook his head with a sigh and returned his focus to spotting the Golden Snitch in the sky.

Meanwhile…

“Kyle’s in front of the Goalposts again… This could be it! He goes for the shot—no, he fakes! The Quaffle’s with Harris now—Wood’s been tricked! And it’s a score for Hufflepuff!”

“Wow… Was that really a Porskoff Ploy?”

“Jordan!” Professor McGonagall’s voice cut sharply through the stands.

“Sorry, Professor McGonagall, won’t happen again!”

With Harris’s goal, the scoreboard flashed 10:0. But just as the crowd was about to break into cheers, a sharp whistle pierced the air. Snape had ruled that Kyle’s maneuver to dodge the Bludger was a foul, and he disallowed the goal, resetting the score to 0:0.

“This isn’t fair!” Harris shouted in frustration. “We already scored—why didn’t you say anything then?”

Snape ignored him entirely, his expression indifferent.

“It’s no use, save your energy,” Kyle murmured, familiar with Snape’s underhanded ways. “At least he didn’t give Gryffindor a penalty, so we’re still in the game.”

“I’m going to see Professor Sprout and Madam Hooch!” Harris fumed, waving his arm angrily. “If he’s the referee for the next match, we’ll refuse to play!”

In the stands, the crowd roared their displeasure, voices rising in protest. But it was pointless; Snape remained unmoved, as if he couldn’t hear a word they were saying.

In the Gryffindor stands, Ron, struggling to keep his emotions in check, whispered to Hermione, “Looks like Harry was right. Snape really is targeting Kyle.”

“But that’s not fair,” Hermione frowned. “I’ve read Quidditch Through the Ages—Kyle hasn’t broken any rules at all.”

“Yes, yes, I know,” Ron mumbled. “But that’s actually bad for us... Ouch!”

Someone jabbed Ron in the back of the head. It was Malfoy.

“Oh, sorry, Weasley, didn’t see you there,” Malfoy sneered, grinning at Crabbe and Goyle. “You should be thanking Professor Snape. He probably just doesn’t want you lot to lose too badly.”

Ron opened his mouth to argue, but words failed him as Snape awarded yet another baseless penalty against Kyle.

“Two…” Malfoy’s grin faded, his tone tinged with envy. “What makes Professor Snape take such good care of your side, just because you’re all brainless?”

“Maybe you should join the team, Neville Longbottom,” he mocked. “With an empty head like yours, maybe Professor Snape would just give you the Golden Snitch.”

Neville’s face turned red as he twisted in his seat to face Malfoy. “Shut up, Malfoy—I’m not scared of you this time!” he stammered.

Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle burst into loud laughter. “Didn’t learn your lesson last time, did you? Want to feel the Leg-Locker Curse again? I bet it’d be loads of fun hopping all the way back to the castle from here.”

Neville’s face flushed even redder, his fists clenched, but Malfoy kept taunting him. Finally, Neville snapped. He swung over the back of his seat, and before Malfoy knew what was happening, he was on the ground.

Ron saw the scuffle unfold and rushed over to help. Within moments, he, Neville, Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle were rolling in a tangled brawl beneath the stands, fighting as fiercely as the players on the pitch.

But all around them, the crowd’s attention stayed fixed on the game—Hermione’s included. Her gaze was locked on the action below.

Suddenly, Harry, with no warning, dove toward the ground, his eyes locked on what looked like the Golden Snitch. But just at that moment, Snape called yet another foul on Kyle, enraging a Hufflepuff Beater, who swung his bat in frustration. The Bludger, speeding dangerously, grazed Harry’s nose before zooming straight at Snape, making him flinch back in surprise.

By the time Harry recovered, the Snitch had vanished.

“Oh, for Merlin’s sake! Why now of all times…” Harry muttered in frustration, pulling his broom back up and returning to the air.

…

From that point on, the match felt like a showcase of Snape’s power, his magical whistle stripping Hufflepuff of at least 50 points with repeated calls. Then, at the 30-minute mark, just as both Harry and Cedric charged at the Snitch, Snape inexplicably positioned himself right in front of Harry’s path. Forced to veer away to avoid a collision, Harry lost his best chance to catch it.

In the end, Cedric caught the Snitch, mere inches ahead of Harry.

The match was over, with a final score of 180 to 20. Hufflepuff had won.

As Harry angrily dismounted, he felt a hand on his shoulder. Looking up, he found Dumbledore smiling down at him.

“You did very well,” Dumbledore murmured, his voice gentle, meant only for Harry. “I’m sorry about the outcome, but I’m glad to see you’re not spending all your time looking in the mirror… living life to the fullest… brilliant.”