Ares Salazar Riddle| a hp fanfic

chapter forty eight

—IT WAS QUIDDITCH ARES HAD NEVER SEEN. Actually, he never even watched the quidditch games back at Hogwarts, so this was his first time watching a game.

He was pressing his Omnioculars so hard to his eyes. The speed of the players was incredible – the Chasers were throwing the Quaffle to each other so fast that Bagman only had time to say their names.

Ares spun the 'slow' dial on the right of his Omnioculars again, pressed the 'play by play' button on the top and he was immediately watching in slow motion, while glittering purple lettering flashed across the lenses, and the noise of the crowd pounded against his eardrums.

'Hawkshead Attacking Formation' he read, as he watched the three Irish Chasers zoom closely together, Troy in the centre, slightly ahead of Mullet and Moran, bearing down upon the Bulgarians. 'Porskoff Ploy' flashed up next, as Troy made as though to dart upwards with the Quaffle, drawing away the Bulgarian Chaser Ivanova, and dropping the Quaffle to Moran. One of the Bulgarian Beaters, Volkov, swung hard at a passing Bludger with his small club, knocking it into Moran's path; Moran ducked to avoid the Bludger and dropped the Quaffle; and Levski, soaring beneath, caught it –

"TROY SCORES!" roared Bagman, and the stadium shuddered with a roar of applause and cheers. "Ten–zero to Ireland!"

"What?" Draco yelled, looking wildly around through his other pair of Omnioculars that he took from his father. "But Levski's got the Quaffle!"

"Draco, if you're not going to watch at normal speed, you're going to miss things!" Ares pointed out, while Troy did a lap of honour of the pitch.

Ares looked quickly over the top of his Omnioculars, and saw that the leprechauns watching from the side-lines had all risen into the air again, and formed the great, glittering shamrock. Across the pitch, the Veela were watching them sulkily.

Furious with himself, Draco spun his speed dial back to normal as play resumed.

Ares knew enough about Quidditch to see that the Irish Chasers were superb. They worked as a seamless team, appearing to read each other's minds by the way they positioned themselves,

And within ten minutes, Ireland had scored twice more, bringing their lead to thirty–zero, and causing a thunderous tide of roars and applause from the green-clad supporters.

The match became still faster, but more brutal. Volkov and Vulchanov, the Bulgarian Beaters, were whacking the Bludgers as fiercely as possible at the Irish Chasers, and were starting to prevent them using some of their best moves; twice they were forced to scatter, and then, finally, Ivanova managed to break through their ranks, dodge the Keeper, Ryan, and score Bulgaria's first goal.

"Dimitrov! Levski! Dimitrov! Ivanova – oh, I say!" roared Bagman.

One hundred thousand wizards and witches gasped as the two Seekers, Krum and Lynch, plummeted through the centre of the Chasers, so fast that it looked as though they had just jumped from aeroplanes without parachutes. Ares followed their descent through his Omnioculars, squinting to see where the Snitch was –
"They're going to crash!" screamed Draco next to Ares.

He was half-right – at the very last second, Viktor Krum pulled out of the dive and spiralled off. Lynch, however, hit the ground with a dull thud that could be heard throughout the stadium. A huge groan rose from the Irish seats.

"Fool!" moaned Draco. "Krum was feinting!"

"It's time out!" yelled Bagman's voice. "As trained mediwizards hurry onto the pitch to examine Aidan Lynch!"

"He'll be OK, he only got ploughed!" Ares said reassuringly to Draco, who was hanging over the side of the box, looking horror-struck. "Which is what Krum was after, of course.."