The Goblet Of Fire - Hermione Granger x OC

The Quidditch World Cup

The time had finally come. It was a moment that everyone had eagerly anticipated—the Quidditch World Cup!

Oliver and his companions, amidst the enthusiastic cheers and the symphony of exploding fireworks, made their way into the tightly packed arena. The noise was deafening, drowning out any thoughts Oliver tried to formulate in his mind. Climbing flight after flight of stairs, they followed Mr. Weasley, who had secured seats for them at the very top of the stadium.

"Blimey, Dad, how high are we?" Ron asked, clearly taken aback by their elevated location.

"Let's put it this way," a familiar voice, smug and dripping with arrogance, interrupted. Oliver turned around to find Draco Malfoy, wearing his customary infuriating smirk. "If it rained, you'd be the first to know for sure." Malfoy couldn't resist his own snarky laughter.

Annoyance surged through Oliver as he prepared to retort, but before he could say a word, Hermione gently pushed him forward, signaling for him to keep his composure.

Malfoy quickened his pace to keep up with them. "My father and I have got seats in the Minister's box! Personally invited by Cornelius Fudge himself!"

Abruptly, Lucius Malfoy delivered a sharp slap to the back of his son's head. "Do not gloat, Draco," he reprimanded firmly. Lucius then turned his gaze towards Oliver and the others, an air of superiority oozing from his demeanor. "There is no need for such behavior around these... individuals."

Refusing to let the Malfoys dampen his spirits on this highly anticipated night, Oliver forged ahead, determined to enjoy himself. However, before he could take another step, a sharp pain shot through his foot. Looking down, he realized Lucius had deliberately slammed his cane onto Oliver's foot, attempting to halt his progress.

"Please, do enjoy yourselves," Lucius spoke through gritted teeth, his smile bearing a sinister edge. "While you still can."

Oliver swiftly kicked the cane away, his anger simmering beneath a cold and serious expression on his face. "Don't you ever touch me again."

Instead of showing remorse, Lucius simply grinned, unaffected by Oliver's display of defiance, and confidently strode away, disappearing into the crowd.

"Leave him," Hermione urged, as she gently grabbed Oliver's arm and guided him towards their seats. She knew that engaging further with Lucius would only escalate the situation, and she wanted to ensure that their focus remained on the thrilling match about to begin.

Oliver took a deep breath, willing himself to let go of the encounter with the Malfoys. He nodded, allowing Hermione's calming presence to ease his tension, and together they made their way to their seats. As they settled in, the deafening roars of the crowd and the electric anticipation filled the air, washing away the residue of the unpleasant interaction.

The Irish team made their grand entrance, soaring through the air on their brooms, effortlessly performing a myriad of impressive tricks. As the crowd erupted into cheers and applause, a burst of fireworks illuminated the sky, revealing a jubilant dancing Leprechaun, adding a touch of enchantment to the scene. Oliver couldn't help but join in the cheers, swept up in the excitement of the moment.

However, the celebratory atmosphere was momentarily disrupted as the opposing team swiftly swooped in, narrowly avoiding collision with the Irish players, sending a wave of gasps through the crowd.

Amidst the commotion, one figure took center stage, throwing his hands in the air, prompting the area to erupt with thunderous chants of "Krum! Krum! Krum!"

Oliver turned to Isabella. "Is that Victor Krum?" he asked, his eyes fixed on the captivating figure.

Isabella nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, indeed! He's considered the best seeker in the world! A formidable competitor, no doubt."

Oliver couldn't contain his excitement, his heart racing at the thought of witnessing such extraordinary talent on the Quidditch pitch.

The players got into position as the Minister walked out onto the field between them. With a flick of his wand, a golden snitch was released, signaling the start of the game. The crowd erupted in anticipation as the players zoomed off in every direction, their brooms cutting through the air with precision and speed.

Oliver couldn't tear his eyes away from the intense action unfolding on the pitch. The Irish and opposing teams clashed in a thrilling display of skill and strategy. Each moment was filled with heart-stopping near misses, as players weaved through the air, dodging Bludgers and making daring dives to snatch the Quaffle.

Suddenly, all eyes focused on Victor Krum. He was a force of nature, gliding effortlessly through the air, his eyes sharp, never losing sight of the elusive golden snitch. Oliver admired Krum's relentless pursuit, his determination apparent in every maneuver he made.

The cheers and gasps of the crowd reverberated throughout the stadium as the game reached its climax. The players displayed remarkable athleticism and teamwork, leaving everyone in awe of their formidable skills. The atmosphere was electric, the air crackling with anticipation and excitement.

Oliver found himself on the edge of his seat. He couldn't help but cheer alongside his fellow spectators, shouting words of encouragement to both sides. The match was a captivating display of Quidditch at its finest, and Oliver couldn't have asked for a more thrilling experience.

As the minutes ticked by, the golden snitch continued to elude the players, taunting them with its swift and elusive movements. The tension in the stadium grew palpable, as fans held their breath, witnessing this high-stakes battle of skill and endurance.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Victor Krum made a lightning-fast dive, his fingertips barely grazing the snitch, before it slipped away yet again. The crowd erupted into gasps and groans, sharing in Krum's near-victory disappointment.

But just as despair threatened to settle in, an audible gasp swept through the stadium. The golden snitch had reappeared, hovering dangerously close to the ground, as if teasing the players, inviting them to seize victory.

With a burst of speed, Krum and the opposing seeker raced towards the snitch, their brooms almost brushing against each other. It was a breathtaking chase, a culmination of all their training and dedication.

In the end, it was Krum who emerged victorious, his hand closing around the golden snitch with a triumphant shout. The crowd erupted into an explosive mix of cheers, applause, and jubilation. The Irish team congratulated Krum, his triumph a testament to his unparalleled skill.