"The match is over." Kyle thought as he watched the changes on the field. He could guess what was happening.
Whether motivated by the commentator's presence or Snape watching from the stands, the Slytherin team had given their all in the first twenty minutes, desperately hoping to create a miracle.
Yet when they discovered that even their best efforts couldn't surpass Hufflepuff's score, their fighting spirit crumbled.
They had tried — and failed — so they simply gave up.
While they regretted losing their chance at the championship, they were more determined to prevent Gryffindor from taking the cup. Since they couldn't surpass Hufflepuff by three hundred points, they decided to help Hufflepuff score more goals instead.
Each goal they conceded today would become a potential weapon against Gryffindor's championship dreams in the final match. For the Slytherins, that was satisfaction enough.
They were clever about it — not making their intentions obvious. They merely "slipped up" at crucial moments. Most young wizards hadn't noticed anything amiss, assuming it was just bad luck or fatigue affecting their performance.
But not everyone was fooled.
In the Gryffindor stands, Charlie angrily pounded the stone steps in front of him, "Damn Rozier, I thought they had changed!"
"This is cheating!" Fred and George were equally furious, shouting from the stands, "They're throwing the match! They should be disqualified immediately!"
Despite their shouting, their voices were lost in the deafening roar of the crowd. Only those nearby could hear them.
Realizing their shouts were futile, Fred and George exchanged glances and headed for the commentator's booth together. Though they couldn't void the match, they hoped to use the commentator to expose Slytherin's match-fixing to everyone.
But they were intercepted before reaching the booth.
"Weasleys, what are you doing here?" Professor McGonagall fixed them with a stern look, "This is not a place for you. Go back and watch the match."
"But Professor McGonagall—" Fred shouted, "Slytherin is throwing the match! They're deliberately losing points!"
George joined in, "They're doing this just to prevent Gryffindor from winning the Quidditch Cup! How can you let them get away with it?"
Minerva paused for a moment, "That's just your speculation, Mr. Weasley. There's no evidence to prove they're deliberately losing points."
"But—" Fred tried to continue, but was cut off.
"Go back and watch the match." She said firmly, "During Quidditch matches, only the commentator is allowed to touch the microphone. That's the rule."
"But…"
"Let it go, Fred." George tugged at his brother's robe, shaking his head slightly, "Sorry, Professor McGonagall, we'll go back now."
Minerva didn't speak, offering only a slight nod.
Before leaving, they glanced at the commentator with one last hope. They had spoken loudly enough — surely at such close range, he must have heard them. If only he would help...
Fred and George lingered for a minute, but the commentator continued his enthusiastic play-by-play of the match, showing no sign of acknowledging them. Defeated, they returned to their seats in silence.
They realized now that any qualified commentator would understand Quidditch well enough to spot such obvious match-fixing without being told.
Like Professor McGonagall, the commentator had clearly chosen to remain silent.
When they returned to the Gryffindor stands, Lee Jordan rushed forward, "How did it go?"
Fred and George shook their heads simultaneously.
"Those despicable Slytherins and that gutless commentator — how could they do this?" Lee was furious, "I was planning to try out for Seeker next year, but I've changed my mind. I'm going to be the commentator."
"Go for it!"
"We support you!"
Fred and George placed their hands on Lee Jordan's shoulders simultaneously.
"We need our own voice!"
On the field, the Hufflepuff players had also noticed something odd about Slytherin.
Harris glanced at the opponent's goal posts, hesitation flickering in his eyes. A moment later, he took a deep breath, his expression hardening with determination.
Under his leadership, the Hufflepuff team slowed their pace. They ceased attacking and pulled back into a defensive formation.
"These idiots!" Rozier gritted his teeth and hurled the Quaffle toward the Hufflepuff goal post.
With a sharp clang, the Quaffle struck the frame and bounced away.
After catching the ball, Harris unhurriedly flew to the opposite end of the field and deliberately hit the ball against the Slytherin goal frame.
"What a shame, it seems Hufflepuff is starting to make mistakes after the long match." The commentator said lightly, "Now it's down to a battle between the Seekers. Whoever catches the Golden Snitch first will win the match."
Kyle had lost interest in watching the rest of the match. He quietly retreated to the last row of the stands and pulled out a piece of parchment from his robe pocket.
The Marauder's Map — he had borrowed it from Fred and George before the match started.
Kyle took out his wand and gently tapped the parchment.
"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."
Unlike Fred and George, who only had half the password, he recited the complete version.
The twins had already found seven words, and with their intelligence, they could have easily guessed the complete password if they'd wanted to.
But they hadn't done so, and when Kyle made up an excuse to tell them, they refused. They were exceptionally firm about this — they had to "find" all the clues, not guess them.
But Kyle didn't care about that.
As the ink lines spread, the true Marauder's Map appeared before him.
He first noted down some secret passage locations, like the one leading to the eighth floor and the one to Honeydukes' cellar — these would be useful later.
After recording these, Kyle turned his attention to the Hufflepuff common room.
✭✭✭
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