King of Lightning [HP FANFIC]

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Hey, Anduin, stop wasting time! The Quidditch match is about to start. I've never seen one in person before. Do you think I could ever become a Quidditch player?" Vivian tugged at Anduin enthusiastically, hurrying toward the Quidditch pitch as though afraid they'd lose a good spot if they arrived late.

Anduin didn't particularly care for such a barbaric game, but today he was in a good mood. Thanks to Hagrid's help, the batch of potions he had brewed sold without a hitch, earning him 240 Galleons and significantly easing his financial worries.

On his way back from Hagrid's hut, he had run into Vivian, who was heading toward the match. Since he was feeling unusually cheerful, he decided to accompany her and enjoy the moment.

Anduin's flying grades weren't anything exceptional; they were simply average. His main advantage lay in his decent sense of balance, which kept his broom rides stable and rarely prone to errors, but he had never devoted much effort to improving in that area.

Whenever he mounted a broomstick, his mind would reflexively start conjuring up aerial combat scenarios. However, the slow speed and how exposed he felt as a target convinced him that fighting from a broomstick was highly unreliable. That was why he never prioritized practicing his flying skills.

Vivian, on the other hand, had a natural talent for flying and picked it up with remarkable ease. By their second flying class, she was already pulling off simple aerial maneuvers. Realizing she finally had a class where she outperformed Anduin only made her more obsessed with flying. Sometimes, interest is born from competition.

"Which two teams are playing today? I heard Quidditch matches can go on for hours. How does anyone even find this kind of game interesting?" Anduin asked, being dragged along by Vivian, his clothes slightly rumpled as he tried to slow her down.

"Oh, for heaven's sake, are you even a Slytherin student? Don't you know it's our house playing against Gryffindor? You really don't care about anything except staying holed up in your room all day!" Vivian gave him a look of utter disbelief.

Anduin suddenly realized and said, "So that's why you're so excited. I think you're more interested in the chaos than the match itself."

"I want to see the chaos, and I want to watch the match even more! I'm not like you, completely void of fun. You only ever care about your books." Vivian shot back with a defiant tone.

"Then you don't know where the real fun in this world lies." Anduin rolled his eyes, too lazy to argue any further.

Before long, they arrived near the Quidditch pitch. Along the way, Vivian kept rattling off Quidditch rules for Anduin's benefit. Not that he needed them—he already knew all of it; Charles had enthusiastically explained the game to them on the train. But Vivian was the type of person whose mouth never seemed to stop. Sometimes Anduin felt tempted to hit her with a Tongue-Tying Curse.

"They say that in ancient Quidditch matches, some players even brought out massive cleavers to try and decapitate the keeper . . . Hey, isn't that Charles? Why is he standing there alone?" Vivian was mid-sentence when she suddenly shifted topics.

Following her gaze, Anduin also spotted Charles standing by himself near the entrance to the pitch.

Vivian was the first to rush over and greet him. "Charles, it's been ages! Are you here to watch the match too? Why aren't you going in? Why are you standing here all alone?"

Seeing that it was Anduin and Vivian, Charles smiled faintly. "Vivian, I'm waiting for some classmates. We've reserved seats up top, and I need to guide the latecomers."

Then he turned to Anduin. "It's been a while since I last saw you. Other than during classes, you're always coming and going. Sometimes I get to talk to Vivian, but I can never seem to catch you. I never got the chance to thank you for what happened last time."

"There's no need to bring that up again. Given how tense things are between our houses right now, it's better left alone." Anduin replied with a subtle hint, not wanting to revisit the topic.

Charles, quick to pick up on the suggestion, didn't press the issue. But the exchange ignited Vivian's curiosity, and she couldn't help glancing between the two of them with her sharp, inquisitive eyes.

As the three continued chatting, a harsh voice cut across their conversation.

"Vivian, Anduin, what are you two doing with that Gryffindor idiot? Hanging out with these morons will only turn you into morons yourselves." Sampel Travers approached with a sneer as he saw the group talking.

"Travers, you disgusting brute, get lost! I don't want to see your face." Charles snapped, his expression twisted with disdain.

"It's my choice who I talk to. You can't control me, Travers." Vivian's glare was equally cold.

Anduin simply stood silently, watching Travers with disinterest, too bored to even speak.

Travers's face twisted even more at their defiance. He sneered, "Ha, a Gryffindor idiot and a filthy Mudblood as friends. Birds of a feather, I suppose. Anduin, you're a disgrace to Slytherin. Vivian, you'd do well to stop mingling with trash like this. Do you want to tarnish the Bulstrode name?"

That was pushing it. Anduin, seeing this fool continue his aggressiveness, replied with biting sarcasm, "Yes, we could never measure up to the mighty Travers family. Besides serving as the Dark Lord's lapdogs, you lot seem obsessed with labeling others. I'd advise you not to bark so loudly. You know, dogs that bite don't bark, and dogs that only bark often get kicked away by their master one day. Given how much filth is pouring out of your mouth, it's like you smeared it with a laxative. Did you just come straight from the toilet after a feast?"

"You . . . how dare you!" Travers was used to trading direct insults but had never faced such passive-aggressive verbal blows. His face turned crimson with rage as he drew his wand, ready for a duel.

Exactly what Anduin wanted. If Travers dared to make the first move, he would make sure the boy understood why flowers are red.

"What are you doing? Why are you blocking the entrance to the Quidditch pitch instead of going in?" Unfortunately, Professor McGonagall appeared at that moment, her eyes sharp and her tone icy.

At the sight of the professor, none of them dared to act out. Travers, his face burning, didn't dare lash out in front of her. He could only cast one last venomous glare their way before storming off. Toward Anduin especially, his eyes seemed ready to spill blood.

Once she saw Travers disappear, Professor McGonagall turned to the trio. "All right, don't linger at the entrance. Get inside at once and don't cause me any more trouble."

With that, she swept past them and entered the Quidditch pitch.