Chaotic Quidditch

With a whistle, the game commenced. Red and green uniforms zipped across the field, a blur of motion as multiple balls soared through the air. Hagrid's enthusiastic commentary boomed beside Anthony, drowning out Jordan's announcements from the commentary box.

"See that ball? That's the Quaffle! Go, Angelina, go! Fly, Angelina! Oh, oh–" Hagrid roared, "Pass it! Did you see that, Anthony? Pass the Quaffle!"

Anthony discreetly rubbed his ears and echoed, "Yes, pass the Quaffle!"

"Harry's flying so high!" Hagrid exclaimed, peering through his large binoculars. "Look at him soar!"

Anthony squinted towards the sky. Under the bright sun, he could only make out a tiny figure hovering serenely, seemingly detached from the game.

A sudden cheer erupted from the stadium. Anthony turned to see that Gryffindor had scored.

"What happened?" he asked the bearded commentator beside him.

"I don't know! I'm watching Harry!" Hagrid clapped enthusiastically. "Alright! Gryffindor!"

Anthony shrugged, clapped along, and turned to Ron. "What just happened?"

"Angelina scored!" Ron shouted over Hagrid's excited yells. "She's a Chaser, and she just threw the Quaffle through the Slytherin goalposts!"

"Which ones are the Slytherin goalposts?" Anthony asked, finding Ron's explanation much clearer than Hagrid's.

Hagrid slapped Anthony on the back. "Look, Harry's doing a loop! He's like a natural on that broom!"

.....

"Snitch!" Ron yelled. "Ah, Slytherin too - but Harry's faster!" He gripped the railing tightly, leaning precariously over the edge of the stands.

A large Slytherin player suddenly swerved, knocking Harry's broomstick off course. Ron jerked back as if he himself had been hit, letting out a frustrated roar.

The Gryffindors surrounding Anthony erupted in shouts and jeers. Hagrid's voice boomed like thunder, his angry words filling Anthony's ears.

"Foul play! Disgraceful!" Hagrid bellowed, slamming his massive hand onto the back of the seat in front of him, startling the Gryffindor student who was stomping and chanting.

The student who had been holding the banner earlier shouted, "Red card! Referee! Red card!"

Anthony, the Muggle Studies professor, glanced at the student with newfound respect. The boy had voiced exactly what Anthony himself was thinking.

Madam Hooch blew her whistle sharply and addressed the players on both teams.

Anthony, once again lost in the intricacies of Quidditch, asked, "What's happening now?"

"I don't know," the Gryffindor who had called for the red card grumbled. "It's not a harsh enough punishment for them, anyway."

Ron distractedly explained to Anthony and the other student what a free throw was. His eyes scanned the field, trying to help Harry locate the elusive Golden Snitch.

.....

"What's Harry doing?" Hagrid muttered, his brow furrowed in confusion as he followed the wayward broomstick with his binoculars. Anthony peered through them as well. Harry was soaring higher and higher, dangerously high...

"Is this some advanced Quidditch maneuver?" Anthony wondered aloud, taking the binoculars from Hagrid. "No, something's not right..."

Harry wrestled with the broom, his knuckles white as he gritted his teeth and glared at the handle, trying desperately to force it downwards. The broom, however, had a mind of its own, twisting and bucking in an attempt to throw him off. It was like a midair rodeo.

Now everyone in the stadium noticed the anomaly. Spectators rose to their feet, pointing and murmuring. Lee Jordan's commentary was lost in the rising clamor. No one paid any attention to the game anymore.

The Slytherin team took advantage of the chaos, scoring several goals in quick succession.

"Stop the match!" Anthony yelled towards Madam Hooch. "Use Sonorus! Stop the game!"

Madam Hooch, on the opposite side of the pitch, didn't seem to hear him. She watched Harry with a worried expression, her wand drawn but not yet raised.

"The captain hasn't signaled for a time-out! Merlin's beard, Harry!" Hagrid gasped, sounding like a true commentator now.

"What's Madam Hooch waiting for?" Anthony asked.

"She's waiting for a clear shot," Hermione explained nervously, her words tumbling out in a rush. "If there's a serious foul or an emergency, the referee can intervene."

"This is definitely an emergency!" Ron shouted.

Hermione wrung her hands. "I know, but she needs to aim properly! Harry's broom is jerking all over the place!"

"Oh my goodness, oh my goodness, oh my goodness," Hagrid muttered. "We'll need protective charms at the World Cup..."

Harry's broom bucked violently, and a collective gasp rose from the stands. Harry lost his grip and was now dangling from the broom by one hand.

Anthony looked around and grabbed the banner from Ron. "Stretch it out!"

The enormous banner billowed in the air, blocking half the stands. Anthony shouted towards the sky, "Jump, Potter!"

Harry, focused on his struggle with the broom, gritted his teeth and clung on, attempting to swing his body back onto the broom.

Neville squeezed his toad, eliciting a croak.

Anthony couldn't bear to watch any longer. He raised his wand and shouted, "Accio Harry Potter's jersey!"

As if someone had pressed pause, the red-clad figure in the air and his broom froze, then Harry flew uncontrollably towards Anthony – thankfully, he'd ascended high enough to clear the goalposts – still gripping the broom tightly.

Despite the makeshift safety net of the banner, Harry hurtled into the stands like a cannonball. He crashed through the banner and collided with Anthony, the broom leaving long skid marks on the ground, kicking up dust as a well-behaved broom should.

Harry rolled to a stop, sitting up and struggling to emerge from beneath the banner. One lens of his glasses dangled from his ear, the other entangled in his messy hair. The words "Potter for President" were haphazardly wrapped around him, flashing in bright colors, the Gryffindor lion on the underside of the banner crumpled. His broom lay docile on the ground.

"What were you doing, Anthony?!" Hagrid exclaimed.

"I was being controlled!" Harry shouted, his voice filled with anger and frustration. "I nearly fell off!"

A sudden roar erupted from the Slytherin side. They had taken advantage of the chaos and caught the Golden Snitch.