King of Lightning [HP FANFIC]

Anduin, I never thought you—someone who normally doesn't curse—could be so ruthless when you do," said Vivian, covering her mouth and letting out a soft giggle after everyone had left. "Did you see Travers's face just now? It was bright red with anger."

"But you're Slytherin students, and this will only make your situation in the House worse. I've caused you trouble," Charles said remorsefully to the two after Travers left, his demeanor slipping back into its slightly shy state.

"You don't need to apologize to anyone. Retreating only invites more encroachment. Only by learning to fight back can you grow stronger. Weakness is the original sin. I don't enjoy causing trouble, but I'm not afraid of it either. Besides, as a Muggle-born wizard sorted into Slytherin, I was already mentally prepared for this," Anduin replied calmly and with composure, looking directly at Charles.

These little pure-blood wizards weren't nearly enough to keep him awake at night.

He then turned to Vivian and said, "As for you, Vivian, if they dare to bother you, just let me know. I'll find a way to help you."

Vivian nodded and answered, "Don't worry. Miss Vanessa looks after us very well, and I'm third in line to inherit from the Bulstrode family. They wouldn't dare lay a hand on me."

This made Anduin glance at Vivian with a hint of surprise. He hadn't expected this girl to be third in line to her family's legacy. No wonder they valued her so highly, even though she was a Squib and Muggle-born. Apparently, the Bulstrode family was severely lacking in heirs.

After chatting for a while, the three of them parted ways and entered the stadium. Anduin and Vivian also climbed into the stands, where Miss Vanessa had saved them seats.

"I heard you had a run-in with Travers at the stadium entrance. In our House, we need to learn how to stand together. The House's current situation isn't great, and the House Cup is still a long way off . . . " Vanessa sighed as she began scolding them. Several students had passed by while Anduin and the others were arguing with Travers, and word had quickly reached her.

Anduin couldn't help curling his lips into a faint smirk as he listened to Vanessa. He didn't intend to disrupt unity, but he feared some people simply wouldn't be willing to uphold it. In his opinion, Vanessa was too weak. What good was lecturing and advising after the fact? Without firm measures, it would be impossible to keep those unruly little snakes in line.

The two of them responded casually to Vanessa's reprimands, and seeing this, she could only sigh in helplessness. As a prefect, she carried an almost obsessive concern for the House Cup. But thanks to the tensions of the Wizarding War, Slytherin had always been plagued by internal unrest. Since she had joined the House, Slytherin had never won the Cup. Nearly every year, they ended up sabotaging each other with Gryffindor, only to watch Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff walk off with the prize.

The grey, overcast weather that day seemed to be warning everyone in the stadium that the match ahead wouldn't be a cheerful one. After the players from both teams took to the pitch, Madam Hooch blew her whistle shortly after, officially starting the first Quidditch match of the academic year.

Anduin swore he had never seen such a barbaric sport in his life. Barely had the match begun when both teams crashed into each other, Seekers included. And when the Chasers gained possession of the Quaffle, they didn't immediately aim for the goal but instead hurled it straight at their opponents. To Anduin, the whole scene felt absurdly familiar, like they were deliberately passing the ball to the enemy.

The Beaters on both sides were even more ferocious. Whenever a Bludger flew past, they smashed it directly at the opposing players. And if no Bludger was nearby, they simply swung their bats at each other. Both teams had even developed tactics: Gryffindor formed a circular formation to try and encircle Slytherin, while Slytherin's players arranged themselves in a triangular wedge to charge en masse at their opponents.

For a while, Anduin found himself watching with surprising interest. Unfortunately, Madam Hooch could no longer stand it and quickly blew her whistle to call a timeout. Ten minutes into the match, neither team had scored a single goal, but several players on both sides were already bruised and swollen.

Anduin let out a quiet sigh of regret. In truth, he was more intrigued by the fights and the various tactical maneuvers than by the match itself, they were unexpectedly eye-opening.

During the brief break, Professor McGonagall and Madam Hooch both stepped onto the pitch and sternly warned the two teams. After that, the game somewhat settled into more familiar rhythms. The Chasers resumed their proper offensive and defensive roles, though the Beaters continued their fierce skirmishes.

The fouls were endless: double-teaming, elbowing, pulling, kicking. Anduin even spotted one player spitting at an opponent, which gave him a strange sense of déjà vu. The scene reminded him of an old Muggle game he'd once played in a past life called Road Rash.

Anduin thought Madam Hooch was going to run out of breath from all the whistle-blowing. Fouls, penalties, penalties, fouls . . . The entire match unfolded in this bizarre atmosphere, while Professor McGonagall, seated at the commentary stand, watched the debacle with a livid expression.

The match dragged on for over an hour. One Slytherin player was sent off, and another was injured and carried off the field. The Gryffindor Seeker also accidentally fell off his broom and broke his leg, forcing him out of the game.

The current situation was dire: Slytherin had only five players left, putting them at a numerical disadvantage, while Gryffindor, although with one extra player, no longer had a Seeker.

It's important to note that Quidditch has no concept of substitutes. Thus, although the game had devolved into five versus six, it could only end if the Golden Snitch was caught or if both captains agreed to conclude it, and judging by their stances, friendly negotiation seemed highly unlikely.

But since Gryffindor no longer had a Seeker, the match could only end if Slytherin's Seeker caught the Snitch. The current score was 70 to 130, with Gryffindor leading. Gryffindor had assigned two players to interfere with Slytherin's Seeker, effectively prolonging the match indefinitely.

Another hour passed, and the score climbed to 110 to 280. Gryffindor, with their extra player, found it much easier to score. But by this point, Slytherin's Seeker had completely lost interest in finding the Snitch. Even if he caught it, they would still lose—so what was the point?

The bizarre match grew stranger by the minute. Slytherin's Seeker no longer even pretended to search for the Snitch. Gryffindor, realizing this, began pulling back into a tight defensive formation and stopped attacking aggressively, clearly trying to conserve their energy. Meanwhile, Slytherin's offense remained fast-paced, but with one fewer player and their Seeker among the five on the pitch, they were essentially fighting four against six, making it nearly impossible to break through.