Hogwarts: a school of Witchcraft and Love (Tom Marvolo Riddle x F!reader)

Chapter 2-07

Months and months of practice all came down to this moment.

The Quidditch pitch was a whirlwind as spectators swarmed the stands. You were standing on the edge of the Gryffindor team huddle, draped in your snazzy crimson robes, ready for your debut Quidditch match as a Chaser. Facing Slytherin, the arch-rivals of your House, made the stakes even higher.

When the referee blew the whistle, the roar of the crowd enveloped the stadium. The Slytherin beaters launched bludgers recklessly, targeting your players with ferocity.

You mounted your broom, feeling the familiar vibrations beneath you, and took off into the sky. The brisk, icy cold nipped at your skin, and the quaffle was nestled securely under your arm. Your heart galloped as you surveyed the pitch, searching for an opportunity to score.

Contrary to his bumpy start with his broomstick, Avery was actually a very decent flier. It was no wonder why the Slytherins recruited him when he sped towards you with control, his broom slicing the air like a falcon.

You twirled through the air, dodging Slytherin's bludgers and narrowly avoiding becoming a target in Avery's game. His taunting laughter rang in your ears as he blasted by, thinking he had you cornered.

A break in the defense presented itself. The Gryffindor Seeker, with a sharp eye for the snitch, diverted Slytherin's attention, grabbing their focus away from you-the Chasers. Taking the opportunity, you sped towards the Slytherin goalpost, the quaffle still held against you.

But Avery was closely behind. You darted and swerved, each maneuver pushing your limits. The stadium exploded with cheers and boos, the passionate rivalry between your two Houses fueling the intense atmosphere.

With a burst of speed, you closed in on the goalpost. You released the quaffle with precision, a streak of red soaring through the air, aiming for the hoop with unwavering accuracy.

However Avery matched your move, stretching out his arm in a last-ditch effort to block the shot. The crowd held their breaths as the quaffle and Avery's fingertips met, the outcome uncertain.

The quaffle ricocheted off his hand, defying gravity for a second. You feared your shot had been thwarted. But, as luck would have it, the quaffle veered slightly to the left, narrowly evading his grasp, and sailed through the hoop, scoring a resounding goal for Gryffindor.

Applause drowned out your heartbeat, showering you with cheers and praise. You had done it! Your first ever real goal as a Chaser in a match against Slytherin!

Amidst the celebration you had another gaze with the boy who held a wicked glint in his, now wanting more than anything to crush your team's hopes. As the match kept going, his team's desperation grew. The game became more physical and more brutal and it felt like the Slytherins were throwing everything but the kitchen sink at you.

But during the intensity you thought back to the memory of your countless practice sessions. The image of Gillian's head shining in the sun as he shouted instructions.

And so you dodged their relentless attempts to intercept while Gillian orchestrated the flow of passes, exploiting openings in the opposing team's defense. Back and forth you sent the quaffle soaring and soon Gillian scored another point.

You watched the score change. The sight of Gillian's accomplishment served as a reminder of the leadership he guided you through. Though momentarily distracted, you refocused and looked over the field, looking for a chance to assist your teammates and further extend the lead.

You were just about to make your move when a jolt ran through your broomstick. Its once smooth and responsive handling became erratic, resisting your attempts to steer. You squealed as you struggled to regain control when the broom veered sharply to the right, defying your desperate attempts to correct its course.