Hogwarts: My Grandmother is the Queen

Miss Farley raised one eyebrow and slowly pierced a small piece of egg with her silver fork.

"A very official answer." She paused for a moment, then said, "I hope your match goes well today."

"Thank you," Henry replied with a smile.

By eleven o'clock, it seemed that the entire school had gathered in the stands around the Quidditch pitch, with many students bringing binoculars. The seats were raised halfway up the wall, but it was still sometimes difficult to see the game clearly.

The air was bitterly cold, and the flags of the four colleges fluttered in the cold wind.

Four different colored scarves and flags stood out clearly in the stands, and shouts, cheers, and boos mingled together, creating an atmosphere so enthusiastic it could almost melt away the frost.

Henry, dressed in a dark green Slytherin jersey, sat on the bench. His Nimbus 2000 lay across his lap, his fingers gently stroking the smooth broom handle.

As a first-year prospective member, his main task today is to observe and learn—unless an “extreme situation” occurs, as Professor Snape himself put it.

He looked up and gazed across the field.

The Gryffindor team was doing their final warm-up. Harry, riding his Nimbus 2000, was attempting a few sharp turns, his red and gold team uniform billowing behind him. He looked tense, but his eyes shone.

"See that?" Draco sat down next to Henry, his tone full of schadenfreude and anticipation. "Potter's legs are shaking. Just wait, Captain Flint will show him what real Quidditch is all about."

Captain Marcus was giving his team final tactical instructions, his gorilla-like frame standing ramrod straight in the cold wind: "Remember! Hit the running ball like crazy! Don't worry about whether it's aimed at people or not! When the chaser breaks through, the batter clears a path for you! As for the Golden Snitch..."

He glanced at his own Seeker, seventh-grader Terence Higgs.

"Higgs, that kid's a newbie. Use your experience to outlast him. Don't rush to capture him. Wear him down first, and wait for him to make a mistake."

Higgs, a tall, thin boy, nodded calmly.

He has been a Seeker for three years and is quite experienced.

Henry listened quietly, his gaze sweeping across the pitch.

He spent some more time last night studying the two teams' past match records and tactical characteristics. Gryffindor's advantage lies in the creativity of the twin batters and Harry's amazing intuition and speed; Slytherin's advantage lies in their stamina and discipline, as well as their less tactful and tough approach.

"Teams, take your positions!" Madam Hooch's booming voice was amplified by magic, echoing throughout the entire arena.

The noise reached its peak in an instant, then gradually subsided.

The players from both teams took off on broomsticks and lined up in the center of the field to face each other.

Green and red, silver and gold, form a striking contrast against the gray-blue sky.

Mrs. Hooch blows the silver whistle, and the game begins!

Fifteen brooms shot into the sky simultaneously, the Quaffle was thrown into the air, and the Runaway Ball broke free of its restraints, letting out a fierce whooshing sound.

"Gryffindor gets the ball first! Angelina Jansen dribbles past her opponent—a beautiful fake! She gets past Slytherin's Monta! She passes to Arya Spinnet—oh! A wandering ball! Slytherin's batter, Derek, smashes it at Spinnet without hesitation! She dodges, but the ball is lost! Slytherin steals it!"

Commentator Lee Jordan's voice echoed throughout the stadium, clearly biased towards Gryffindor, but distinct enough.

"Slytherin's counter-attack! Chaser Boll dribbles straight toward the Gryffindor goal—the Weasley twins try to intercept, but another loose ball is knocked toward them by their teammate! Forced to split up—Boll shoots! Gryffindor goalkeeper Wood makes a save—beautiful! He blocked it! But possession remains with Slytherin!"

The match was intense from the start. Slytherin's strategy was clear: use their bodies and the ball to create chaos and disrupt Gryffindor's rhythm. Flint, like a heavy tank, rampaged across the field, intentionally or unintentionally interfering with Harry Potter's flight path several times, only to be warned by Madam Hooch each time.

Harry flew cautiously, his eyes constantly scanning the entire area, searching for that one golden glint.

Terence Higgs, like a ghost, hovered around the edge of the pitch, seemingly nonchalant, but in reality, he firmly blocked the area where Harry might spot the Snitch.

"Gryffindor has lost possession again! Flint's charge was definitely a foul—but Mrs. Hooch didn't call it! Slytherin scores another ten! Twenty to zero!"

From the stands, the Slytherins cheered deafeningly, while the Gryffindors booed loudly.

"That's not fair!" Hermione stomped her foot angrily in the stands, with Ron and Neville sitting next to her. "Flint clearly bumped into Harry on purpose!"

“That’s just how Quidditch is,” Ron said, his face pale but trying to remain calm. “Slytherin has always been this dirty. But Harry can handle it…”

On the field, the score has reached 30 to 10, with Slytherin slightly ahead.

Gryffindor attempted a counterattack, but Slytherin's defense was impenetrable, and the wandering ball continued to threaten the Gryffindor players despite the Slytherin batters' dirty... no, I mean, tactical efforts.

Then, the accident happened.

During a high-speed dive to chase the Golden Snitch, Higgs slightly collided with Angelina, who was also diving. This wouldn't have been a big deal, but as Higgs adjusted his stance, the tail of his broom accidentally brushed against the stray ball that George Weasley had slammed into!

"Bang!" Fred swung his bat again, sending the ball flying toward Higgs, who was chasing the Golden Snitch.

The ball changed direction, shooting straight at Higgs' back at an even more difficult angle! He barely managed to twist to dodge, the ball grazing his shoulder, but the sudden loss of balance caused his broom to shake violently—

"Snap!"

A sickening cracking sound.

Higgs' broom handle, already strained from the collision with the Gryffindor player, cracked in the middle from the violent shaking! Although not completely broken, the broom's balance and power were clearly compromised, and it began to tilt and spin uncontrollably.

"Merlin! There's something wrong with the Slytherin Seeker's broom!" Lee Jordan exclaimed.

Lady Hodge blew her whistle urgently, signaling a halt, and the Slytherin members escorted the pale-faced Higgs to the ground.

Flint examined the old, gleaming Seven Stars sword, his face turning ashen.

"Can it be fixed?" Higgs asked through gritted teeth. His left arm had clearly been hit by the ball, and there were spots of blood seeping through his robe.

Flint gave the broom a rough try; it rose a few feet crookedly before spinning uncontrollably.

"No way! This piece of junk won't last until the end of the match!"

Mrs. Hooch also came over: "Do we need to replace the broom or the team member? According to the rules, a broom can be replaced if it is severely damaged, but if there is no spare broom, or if the team member is unable to continue due to injury, a replacement can be made."

"I can still hold on!" Higgs said through gritted teeth.

"No way!" Flint's face was grim. "Your arm is broken. You'd better get it treated at Mrs. Pomfrey's now—don't forget, we have a backup Seeker!"

"Can he handle it?" Drake leaned closer, frowning. "Don't forget, he's just a first-year student!"