NABC Ch338- Win!
Ch338- Win!
ch338- win!
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ginny, who had been rolling her eyes at her brothers since the veela stepped onto the field, gave fred a firm smack on the back of his head. “pull yourself together, you idiot.”
fred winced dramatically, rubbing his head. “ow! that hurt more than rejection, ginny.”
“keep talking, and you’ll find out what else hurts,” she shot back, crossing her arms.
ron, seated a few rows ahead with the rest of the weasleys, nearly toppled over the railing in his attempt to get a better look at the veela. ginny yanked him back into his seat with a glare. "stop drooling."
ron blinked as though waking from a dream, quickly clamping his mouth shut. “i wasn’t drooling,” he muttered defensively, though the tips of his ears turned bright red.
astoria leaned over to tracey, her lips twitching in amusement as she whispered, “they really lose their minds over veela.”
tracey stifled a laugh, her gaze flicking back to harry. “well, it’s official. he’s not human.”
“i heard that,” harry said without looking at her, his tone dry. he finally turned his head to glance at the group, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “what’s the matter? you lot look like you’ve never seen a mascot before.”
cedric, seated at the back, let out a low chuckle. “not all of us have your... fortitude, harry. some of us are still susceptible to the charms of magically enhanced beauty.”
“speak for yourself,” blaise said, her tone cool. “some of us are simply better at keeping our heads than others.”
his gaze shifted pointedly to theo, who was slouched in his seat, trying to hide the fact that he was still staring at the veela. he straightened abruptly under his scrutiny, clearing his throat. “i’m perfectly fine, thank you.”
the announcer’s voice boomed through the stadium, silencing the chatter in an instant.
“ladies and gentlemen, wizards and witches, welcome to the 422nd quidditch world cup final!”
the crowd erupted into deafening cheers, flags waving wildly as the stadium came alive with energy. the announcer’s voice continued, introducing the irish and bulgarian teams with dramatic flair as the players soared onto the field. the irish chasers, dressed in vibrant green robes, streaked across the pitch in perfect formation, their broomsticks gleaming under the enchanted lights. the bulgarian team followed moments later, viktor krum at the head of their formation. his movements were confident, drawing cheers and applause from his supporters.
astoria jumped to her feet, waving her ireland flag enthusiastically. “go ireland!” she shouted, her voice nearly drowned out by the roar of the crowd.
“sit down, tori,” daphne said, tugging her back into her seat. “you’re going to give someone behind you a reason to hex you.”
astoria stuck her tongue out at her sister but complied, though she continued to wave her flag with unrelenting enthusiasm.
the announcer’s voice reached a crescendo, signaling the start of the match. the referee, a stern-looking wizard with a whistle clamped between his teeth, released the bludgers and snitch, followed by the quaffle.
astoria snickered, leaning toward him. “oh, please. you don’t even have a heart.”
“oh, harsh,” harry replied, raising an eyebrow. “is that what they’re teaching in your care of magical creatures classes these days? dissection of slytherin seekers?”
“only the freakishly talented ones,” she quipped, sticking her tongue out at him.
selena, seated next to him observed the exchange with a faint smirk. “must you always encourage them, harry?”
“it’s a full-time job,” harry said with a shrug. “besides, someone has to keep their egos in check.”
daphne smirked back at him. “and you’re the humble, selfless figure keeping us grounded, are you?”
“obviously,” harry replied, as though it were the most natural conclusion in the world.
the group burst into laughter, their earlier quidditch arguments forgotten as they settled into their seats to watch the irish players take a victory lap around the stadium. the golden quaffle gleamed in the light of enchanted fireworks, and the bulgarian fans grudgingly joined in with polite applause for the irish team.
astoria practically bounced in her seat, waving her ireland scarf again. “i told you they would win!”
“alright, astoria,” blaise muttered, rubbing his ear. “we heard you the first three times.”
“i’m just saying!” she replied brightly, clearly unbothered by blaise’s tone. “i was right.”
“you know,” tracey said thoughtfully, turning to astoria, “if you put half as much energy into your studies as you do into quidditch, you might actually stand a chance at beating daphne in your exams.”
“traitor,” astoria said, glaring at her friend.
“practical advice,” tracey shot back, grinning. “take it or leave it.”
before astoria could respond, a loud crack of fireworks drew their attention back to the field. the irish team descended to the pitch, their wands raised in celebration, and the veela—now decidedly less alluring to the dazed male fans—performed a graceful farewell display. the bulgarian players left the field with the stoic dignity expected of a team that had fought valiantly, even in defeat.
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