On the weekend, all of Hogwarts seemed deserted—nearly all the students were at the Quidditch Pitch. This time, it was a match between Ravenclaw and Slytherin.
Being a Ravenclaw, Vid naturally joined his classmates in the stands.
In fact, Vid was never interested in Quidditch as a sport—riding a broom and flying freely in the sky certainly felt great, but risking a broken neck competing fifty feet in the air seemed too stupid to him.
The experience as a spectator wasn't great either. The Golden Snitch was so small that, apart from the occasional flash of gold, it was barely visible, and the Seeker seemed to be aimlessly flying in the air most of the time. Others moved faster than cars on the highway at times, with the small Quaffle and Bludgers being passed rapidly between players. Vid suspected most people couldn't actually follow the match at all, only knowing when to cheer by relying on the commentator.
Yet the students still loved the sport—of course, anyone confined in a boarding school studying all day would love any group activity unrelated to studying—even if it meant weeding the lawns or picking up litter on nearby streets.
Vid was an exception, as the joy and sense of achievement he gained from learning magic surpassed any form of competition.
Suddenly, the stands erupted in cheers. Vid was momentarily stunned before politely clapping along with his classmates—
Ravenclaw had won the match.
The Seeker was an upper-year boy who held his right hand high, the wings of the Golden Snitch fluttering between his fingers. He circled the pitch at high speed on his broom, showing off the Snitch to everyone. Countless people reached out their hands eagerly, wanting to high-five him like he was a big star.
"Ravenclaw! Ravenclaw! Ravenclaw!"
In the stands, even Gryffindor students were shouting along—seeing Slytherin lose made them happier than anything.
The Slytherin students left with sullen faces.
"We're not far behind Hufflepuff in points, and we've defeated Slytherin—" On the way back to the castle, Michael calculated the points from the two matches, excitedly saying, "Maybe this time Ravenclaw can take the Quidditch Cup!"
"You're never this enthusiastic about the House Cup!" Vid teased.
"How can they be the same?" Michael said dismissively, "I heard from Shuraya in third year that winning the House Cup just means having the Great Hall decorated in your house colors for the end-of-term feast—what's the point?"
In fact, many Ravenclaws, like Michael, showed a nonchalant attitude towards the House Cup, not particularly bothered whether their points were high, low, or even at the bottom, not really striving to earn more points for their house in class.
"But there's no other reward for the Quidditch Cup!" Vid argued.
"This is Quidditch!" Michael's eyes widened, "Winning the Quidditch Cup is the greatest honor."
A sudden loud mocking laugh came from nearby.
Malfoy, with his two cronies, approached quietly and said, "So proud just after winning one match? Don't forget, we've held the House Cup for the past six years! Ravenclaw's—"
He glared at Vid with malice and spat out a word: "—Mudblood."
Michael furiously drew his wand: "How dare you—"
Malfoy jumped back and threatened, "The professor is right behind us, you dare to make a move?"
"Why wouldn't I!" Michael exclaimed, "It'll be good for the professor to know what you said!"
He was about to cast a spell, but Vid held him back.
"Malfoy," Vid said calmly, "you should really look in the mirror—to see just how ugly your despicable and evil self is right now."
Malfoy was momentarily stumped for a retort, only managing to continue attacking Vid's bloodline after a while: "You—you filthy—"
But Vid and Michael had already walked past, as if the group in front of them were nothing more than roadside weeds.
Malfoy heard Vid say, "Michael, when a vicious dog bites, just kick it away, no need to stoop down and bite back?"
Michael, whether due to a low threshold for humor or envisioning the scenario, burst into laughter immediately. Even some passing students couldn't help but laugh, casting mocking glances at the Slytherins.
Hearing the giggles, Malfoy felt as if his face was being scraped by steel knives, trembling with rage and nearly flinging a curse in anger.
But in the end, the proximity of the professor's authority was stronger, forcing Malfoy to restrain his temper.
He stormed off towards the castle with his head down, secretly seething at Vid's humiliations. Crabbe and Goyle hurried to follow, their faces stupidly blank, as if they understood nothing.
Whenever Malfoy heard people speaking nearby, he felt as if they were laughing at him. Suddenly, he really heard his name—
"Malfoy clashed with Vid again... He surely hates Vid now, right?" A girl's voice seemed a bit worried.
Malfoy recognized the voice as Padma from Ravenclaw, who seemed to have a good relationship with Vid. He instinctively hid behind a pillar and gestured for Crabbe and Goyle to hide quickly.
The two chubby boys exchanged a glance and begrudgingly hid behind Malfoy, resembling a line of candied haws.
Another similar voice—Pavarti said, "Of course, after all, he's a Pure-Blood Malfoy!"
"Do you think Malfoy is still using Vid's invention, the Friendship Book?" Padma said.
"Hmm?" Pavarti was taken aback, vaguely saying, "Um... he might be..."
"I don't think he would," Padma said cheekily, "Otherwise, it'd be funny, wouldn't it, for him to curse Vid yet use something Vid invented, right?"
"Right... right... yeah," Pavarti stammered.
She didn't quite understand—who would give up something so useful over a petty argument? Besides, the Friendship Book wasn't cheap...
But seeing Padma's certainty, and remembering her own unfinished Magic Potion homework, Pavarti wisely shut her mouth.
Padma glanced with her peripheral vision, noticing a line of shadows behind the pillar, and mischievously smiled.
...
The girls walked off arm in arm.
Malfoy stepped out from behind the pillar, his pale face turning red. He took out the Friendship Book and tore it to shreds without hesitation, throwing it on the ground.
"Go keep an eye on Vid Gray for me!" Malfoy snarled, "See when he goes to the Magic Potion classroom! I won't let him off!"
His mind raced with the harshest, most vicious spells he knew—
Killing Curse... Cruciatus Curse... Entrail-Expelling Curse... no, he couldn't use those... Densaugeo... Leg-Locker Curse... Incendio...