Chapter 92: Quidditch Finals And Finals
On the third Saturday of May, Hogwarts welcomed the final Quidditch match of the school year.
The competing teams were Gryffindor and Ravenclaw, in a single round-robin points format with no finals, but since it was the last match of the school year, the students still called it the finals.
Houses like Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw, which rarely contend for the House Cup year after year, have grown accustomed to it over time, unlike Gryffindor and Slytherin which are fiercely competitive; they lie flat contentedly without any psychological barrier.
This year there was a slight mishap.
The first two houses had their House Points reset to zero due to group fights, giving both a chance at the championship, so they strove hard for several weeks, but Harry and the others gained nearly two hundred points directly for protecting the Philosopher’s Stone, making hopes slim again.
Ravenclaw House was a bit unwilling and wanted to struggle more; if they won the Quidditch championship by a large margin, the Great Hall banners could change to a copper-blue color scheme.
Hufflepuff House chose to give up, as the points gap was too wide and effort wouldn’t help; they lay flat again, no longer scrambling to answer questions in class for points or training Quidditch desperately under blazing sun and storms.
Relaxed and pleasant.
Melvin and several deans arrived at the pitch.
The lawn was verdant green, the sunshine bright.
A year had passed; having witnessed the four seasons’ scenery here, Melvin was already familiar with the school’s landscapes and students.
As Melvin sat in the staff viewing seats, he happened to hear commentator Lee Jordan testing the mic; Professor McGonagall sat beside him, sternly instructing him to be fair and impartial, commentating the match from a neutral perspective.
The dark-skinned Lee nodded vigorously, but it looked like he wasn’t taking it to heart at all.
The other spectator stands had varying situations:
Gryffindor’s students huddled together, unfurling banners drawn on bed sheets with “Potter Must Win” and a golden-red lion waving in midair, the paint enhanced with crude Transfiguration for luster.
Slytherin’s students were comparatively indifferent, not even bothering to boo Harry.
They had only lost one match, leading in points for now; if Gryffindor lost by a small margin, they would be Quidditch champions. But with too few House Points, even winning the championship wouldn’t secure the House Cup, so it was pointless.
Hufflepuff cheered and shouted along with Hermione and the others, after all, Harry was now the school’s most popular celebrity.
Judging only by the off-field scene, the momentum was overwhelmingly one-sided.
Facing this, the Ravenclaw students—called bookworms by other houses—did not give up; even as their shouts were drowned by other houses’ cheers, they did not stop, striving to make their voices heard.
Professor Flitwick’s expression faintly showed pride.
Melvin turned to look and noticed a slender girl with an East Asian face in the front row of Ravenclaw, very eye-catching at Hogwarts. She should be a second year, appearing in his class next year.
Cho Chang’s face flushed red from shouting hard; she paused to let her throat rest, and tugged her friend’s clothes: “Marietta, do you think our house can win?”
Marietta had a head of golden curls, slightly messy bangs, and her somewhat pale face showed hesitation.
Rationally, she thought victory unlikely. But at this moment, it seemed she should encourage her friend emotionally; after all, Cho had been a fan of the Tutshill Tornadoes since age six.
“Probably…”
The rest of the sentence was drowned in the wave of cheers as Cho Chang turned back to join the shouting.
Curly-haired Marietta Ekko softly echoed along, seemingly embarrassed by such uncomposed shouting; she glanced around to avoid others’ gazes, just meeting Professor Levent’s eyes in the distance, her face growing even paler.
Melvin gave her a slight smile and looked away.
Beside him, Professor Flitwick also noticed his house’s student and said shrilly: “That’s the Ekko family girl, quite smart, just too soft-spoken; I’ve never heard her speak loudly. I think it’s because her mother is too dominant; Mrs. Ekko is the director of the Floo Network Administration in the Department of Magical Transportation.”
“Ekko…” Melvin softly repeated, his dark eyes flickering faintly.
Professor Flitwick quickly moved past the aside: “This match features new brooms, so I must thank you on behalf of Ravenclaw, Melvin; otherwise, our players would just be chasing Harry’s backside.”
“I remember they’re all Nimbus 2000s, right?”
“Exactly!” Professor Flitwick’s expression was serious as he patiently explained, “Actually, Minerva planned to upgrade to Nimbus 2001s, but those brooms cost two or three times more with only twenty to thirty percent performance gain; Nimbus upgrades are always like squeezing toothpaste.”
“…”
“Actually, you could wait another year or two; I heard Randolph Keitch commissioned goblin artisans for core parts to create a revolutionary broom product, codenamed Firebolt.”
“I see.”
It took Melvin a few seconds to realize it was the Firebolt; he hadn’t expected Professor Flitwick’s goblin heritage to give him such intel channels.
During their talk, Madam Hooch had blown the whistle.
Late May morning, the air was muggy, the sun dazzling; fifteen brand-new golden brooms soared into the air, their mahogany gleaming brightly, streaking golden trails overhead in an eye-dazzling display.
Ravenclaw’s team was strong; with new brooms, they adopted new tactics, vice-captain Roger Davies and the captain directing offense and defense in tacit coordination, their novel playcalling completely different from before, scoring six goals in ten minutes and leaving Gryffindor dazed.
“Gryffindor isn’t going to lose, is it?” Professor Aurora Sinistra muttered softly.
Professor Bathsheba Babbling of Ancient Runes patiently explained: “Quidditch isn’t just about scoring goals; the focus is the Golden Snitch.”
“…”
Professor Flitwick said nothing, but his small hands clutched his sleeve tightly, eyes fixed on the pitch.
Melvin did not disturb this dean.
Trailing in score, Gryffindor couldn’t counter Ravenclaw’s new tactics and shifted to defense to prevent the gap from widening. On-field spectators knew this meant pinning hopes on the Golden Snitch, so all eyes turned to the Seekers.
Two brooms circled the pitch, drifting at the edges; Harry led by a dozen feet, his green eyes sharp.
The seventh-year Ravenclaw Seeker behind chased relentlessly, gritting his teeth but not daring max speed. The broom switch was hasty; he hadn’t fully adapted.
Ten minutes later, Harry suddenly accelerated, using a post-stall maneuver for an unbelievable turn; with this dazzlingly brilliant move, he quickly shook off the trailing Seeker.
When they came to, he was hovering over the pitch, raising his right hand high.
Dazzling metallic luster bloomed in his palm.
The stadium went silent for two or three seconds, then erupted in tsunami-like cheers.
After Madam Hooch announced the result, the pitch turned into a celebration zone as students surged in, surrounding the landed players and, amid hoots, encircling Harry, tossing him high.
Amid the commotion was vibrant, exuberant life force.
……
May was nearly over, summer had arrived.
Melvin stood at the classroom podium, facing seventh-year students; this was the last Muggle Studies class of the school year, and their last class ever.
For the first twenty minutes, he briefly reviewed the exam syllabus key knowledge. These advanced class students had solid foundations; after a year of new teaching methods broadening horizons and expanding minds, they achieved outstanding scores in past mock exams, feeling very confident.
If previous wizard scholars always studied Muggles from a narrow, biased top-down view, no different from studying merpeople, centaurs, or Veela.
The greatest impact of new teaching wasn’t instilling Muggle knowledge, but guiding them to observe Muggle civilization with equal, normal eyes, realizing wizards and Muggles once coexisted long-term, and those pure-blood families initially prospered via Muggles.
And technology exists parallel to magic, even surpassing it in some aspects.
It was another wondrous and magical thing.
Several students took the elective for easy Ministry entry; now truly appreciating technology’s changes, they planned post-graduation months immersing in Muggle society. Other pure-blood students decided to visit Muggle cities and villages during graduation trips to engage with technological civilization.
Melvin found it wondrous too.
Pity he dropped out without experiencing it; just right for summer vacation back to Ilvermorny—if that water snake gave no good reason, he’d tie it in a dead knot, head to tail.
“The school year is ending, and your student life too.”
Melvin scanned the classroom: “Cherish the remaining days; later visits to school require advance application to Professor McGonagall, rejected without good reason. You’ll be like those poor adult wizards, viewing the castle, Black Lake, and Forbidden Forest via Projection Mirror.”
The classroom giggled, not feeling much.
“Professor, we can sneak in!”
“With Disillusionment Charm, Mr. Filch won’t see.”
“I know several secret passages!”
“Can we hide in your office when Professor McGonagall patrols?”
“…”
Melvin smiled, not lingering on the topic: “Even boring Muggle Studies lasted to seventh year; I know you won’t worry about future jobs. For life ahead, no advice from me—that’s for you to explore.
“Here, just a reminder: don’t limit yourselves to the Wizarding World; when life gets tough or work dull, check out the Muggle World—take a Muggle job, integrate into Muggle society.”
“Like what?” A girl raised her hand.
“Like pizza delivery with Apparition—easy work, good pay…”
Students loved this chatty banter style; classes were always like this, and in just a year, Professor Levent left a profound impression.
The classroom was rowdy for ten-plus minutes, pure idle chat; later Melvin even sat on the desk.
“…”
Melvin checked the time; a double-period was about two hours, not even half done: “No more lecturing; won’t keep you reviewing here. Weather’s nice—go sunbathe.”
“Long live Professor Levent!”
Another wave of cheers and shouts.
……
June first.
Melvin walked the exam hall aisle, watching students heads-down quietly answering; the room smelled pleasantly of ink.
Muggle Studies exams were far more bearable than others; with muggy weather turning most halls into steamers, only his precooled with Freezing Charm let examinees linger post-finish, reluctant to hand in early.
His final exam was very simple: basic term explanations, fun facts and trivia from the Encyclopedia, even novel word-matching questions.
Plus some odd multiple-choice to differentiate scores.
He’d planned splitting Muggle Studies into theory and practical too—theory as is, practical assigning radio batteries, assembling flashlights, operating simple technological creations.
More boldly, take students to a Muggle town for chats with ordinary folk.
But Professor McGonagall rejected his application, reminding him to reapply next term; keep as is this year.
The deputy headmaster’s authority was formidable; Melvin had to drop it.
……
Theory exams lasted nearly a week.
Other elective professors were on break; Melvin handled Muggle Studies duties plus first-year Defence Against the Dark Arts practicals.
No prep needed this time; exam set in the fourth-floor restricted area, simplifying and tweaking the old obstacles made the practical.
Wednesday afternoon.
Melvin left his office with light steps. He’d just finished grading theory papers; students’ scores filled him with a sense of accomplishment.
At the room at the end of the fourth-floor corridor, examinees were already queued.
Students lined by house in four queues, eyes sparkling; Projection Mirror adventure stories, intricate challenges testing wisdom, courage, and magical technique—they’d get close to the legend.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione were surrounded by classmates asking for obstacle tips.
Melvin stepped forward, clearing his throat:
“You should be familiar here; Mr. Filch says he’s caught night-prowling mischief-makers here several times—some of you got detention cleaning, right?”
“…”
Many students averted eyes, looking embarrassed.
All four houses had them; Draco was one.
“As you see, today’s practical is obstacle course; no intro to contents, just exam rules.”
Melvin calmly eyed the eager novices: “Some obstacles simplified for exam; tested one by one, grades O, E, A, P…”
