"GRYFFINDOR SCORES!"
The resounding proclamation filled the Quidditch stadium, igniting a wave of jubilation among the spectators. Amidst the uproar, Arthur and Draco sat side by side, their reactions starkly different.
Draco's discontent was palpable as he muttered under his breath, "This is ridiculous. Gryffindor always gets lucky breaks."
Arthur glanced at him, a hint of amusement flickering in his eyes. "Luck or skill, Draco? Gryffindor seems to have both today."
Draco scoffed, his expression sour. "Skill, my foot. More like Gryffindor favoritism."
Ignoring Draco's grumbling, Arthur's attention returned to the match, his gaze fixed on the players darting across the pitch. Lee Jordan's lively commentary added to the excitement, punctuated by Professor McGonagall's occasional interjections.
As Angelina Johnson made a daring move, Arthur couldn't help but admire her agility. "Impressive," he remarked, his voice betraying a hint of admiration.
Draco rolled his eyes. "Show-off," he muttered, crossing his arms in annoyance.
Despite Draco's cynicism, Arthur remained focused on the game, his demeanor calm and composed. Gryffindor's success brought cheers from the crowd, but Arthur remained unaffected, his thoughts focused elsewhere.
As the match progressed, Arthur and Draco engaged in sporadic conversations, their differing perspectives adding a layer of tension to the air. Despite their differences, they remained united in their shared interest in the outcome of the game.
Amidst the exhilaration of the Quidditch match, Arthur and Draco's contrasting reactions provided a glimpse into the complex dynamics of Hogwarts' rivalries. As Gryffindor celebrated another goal, the divide between the two houses seemed more pronounced than ever.
As the Quidditch match continued to unfold, Arthur's attention momentarily drifted from the action on the pitch to the sight of Harry Potter hovering gracefully on his broom above the chaos. But as he watched, a wave of memories swept over him, transporting him back to the morning's conversation with Draco.
"...In a century. Can you believe that?" Draco's incredulous voice echoed in Arthur's mind, the words a stark reminder of their earlier discussion. Lost in thought, Arthur found himself reliving the exchange as if it were happening all over again.
"Not entirely. I mean, he is a Seeker now," Arthur had responded, his mind still grappling with the implications of Harry's newfound role.
The noise of the Quidditch match faded into the background as Arthur's thoughts drifted back to the Slytherin common room, to the murmured conversations and the weight of expectation that hung in the air. But even as the memory faded, the questions lingered, casting a shadow over the excitement of the match below.
The conversation continues as Draco grumbles about favoritism toward Gryffindor.
Draco's discontent was palpable as he voiced his frustration about Gryffindor's perceived favoritism, his tone tinged with bitterness. "Why must all the favoritism go to the Gryffindors? Pass me a toast, would you?"
Arthur, ever the diplomat, offered a balanced perspective as he handed Draco a piece of toast. "I wouldn't exactly call it favoritism. Perhaps they just have exceptionally skilled players."
Draco snorts, his skepticism clear. "Exceptionally skilled or not, it's still unfair. Gryffindor always seems to get the best of everything."
Arthur considers this, torn between agreement and a desire to believe in fairness. "I suppose it depends on who you ask," he replies carefully, though a hint of doubt lingers in his voice.
Their conversation pauses as the Gryffindor Quidditch team enters amidst cheers and applause. Arthur's attention is drawn to Harry Potter, proudly displaying a sleek broomstick.
"Is that a Nimbus?" Arthur's surprise is evident, his eyes widening at the sight.
Draco's smirk speaks volumes. "Yep. Probably from his parents."
Draco's discontent was evident as he muttered under his breath, his frustration with Gryffindor's perceived advantages boiling over. "It's not fair," he grumbled, his voice barely audible over the din of the crowd. "They always get everything handed to them on a silver platter."
"We may not have the same resources as Gryffindor," Arthur began, his voice tinged with resolve, "but that doesn't mean we can't succeed on our own terms."
Draco glanced at Arthur, a glimmer of hope flickering in his eyes. "You really think so?" he asked, his skepticism giving way to cautious optimism.
Arthur nodded. "Absolutely," he replied
Arthur was jolted back to reality by the raucous cheers erupting from the Gryffindor stand.
Amidst the jubilation, Arthur couldn't help but feel a twinge of disappointment. The match had barely begun, yet Gryffindor was already pulling ahead, their skills and resources giving them an undeniable advantage.
As the Quidditch match continued, Arthur found himself indifferent to the progress of the match. His eyes were fixed on Harry Potter, Gryffindor's Seeker, as he darted through the air with unparalleled agility.
Suddenly, the mood on the Quidditch pitch shifted as Harry Potter made a bold move towards the Golden Snitch. Arthur's heart raced as he watched the Gryffindor Seeker's every move, his breath catching in his throat with each near miss.
When Harry's broom began to malfunction, the crowd erupted into chaos as he struggled to regain control, his bravery in the face of danger earning him the attention of spectators from all houses.
Amidst the chaos, Arthur's attention was drawn to the commotion at the teachers' stand, where smoke billowed ominously. Surprisingly, Harry began to gain control over his broom again as he climbed up again and continued his chase.
And then, in a moment of sheer triumph, Harry Potter closed his hand around the elusive Golden Snitch, securing victory for Gryffindor. The stadium erupted into cheers and applause, Gryffindor supporters celebrating their team's triumph while Slytherins looked on with a mixture of disappointment and respect.
As Arthur watched Harry stand victorious on the Quidditch pitch, the Snitch clutched in his hand, he couldn't help but feel a grudging admiration for his rival.
In the end, as the cheers of Gryffindor echoed through the stadium, Arthur couldn't deny the thrill of witnessing such an exhilarating display of Quidditch prowess, even if it meant seeing his own house defeated.
....
Alone and contemplative, Arthur found himself outside the Great Hall after dinner, where he unexpectedly encountered the Golden Trio. With a congenial smile, he congratulated Harry on his impressive Snitch catch.
"Nearly fell off, didn't you?" Arthur remarked, his tone light as he addressed the Gryffindor seeker.
Harry grinned sheepishly, a hint of embarrassment coloring his cheeks. "Yeah, it was a close one," he admitted, his eyes sparkling with the thrill of the match. "My dad sent me a letter almost immediately. Said he was proud of me"
"You're lucky, you know," Arthur said slowly, his voice shaking. "You have parents who care about you. Mine are.... They were.. "
"Parents? Are you okay? Harry asked.
He clenched his fists, his hair changing between different colors, struggling to contain the torrent of emotions threatening to overwhelm him. Unable to contain them, Arthur turned and walked away, his heart heavy with unresolved emotions. He could feel Hermione's concerned gaze on his back as he retreated, but he didn't stop to explain or reassure her. He needed to be alone, away from the prying eyes of his peers.
"What just happened?", He could hear Harry ask as he walked away.
Lost in his thoughts, Arthur wandered through the deserted corridors of Hogwarts, his footsteps echoing in the silence. He didn't know where he was going, only that he needed to escape, if only for a little while.
At last, he found himself standing before a classroom door, its wood worn and weathered from years of use. With a sense of resignation, Arthur pushed open the door and stepped inside, the musty scent of old parchment filling his nostrils.
The room was empty, save for rows of chairs and desks stacked against the walls. Arthur made his way to the front of the room, his movements slow and deliberate, his mind still reeling from whatever just happened.
As he settled onto the ground next to a wall, his hand brushed against something soft and dusty, hidden beneath a dirty piece of cloth. Curious, Arthur pulled back the cloth and gasped in astonishment at what lay before him: a magnificent mirror, towering from floor to ceiling, its ornate gold frame gleaming in the dim light.
Arthur stared at the inscription carved around the top of the magnificent mirror, his mind automatically translating the words: "Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi."
"It's a strange language," he muttered to himself, running his fingers over the smooth surface of the mirror. Despite his curiosity, he couldn't shake the feeling of unease that had settled over him since his encounter with the Golden Trio.
As he gazed into the mirror, he saw only his own reflection staring back at him, his hair a neutral shade of black.
Lost in thought, Arthur continued to stare into the mirror, searching for answers that seemed just out of reach. But as the minutes ticked by, he realized that perhaps the mirror held no answers at all. Perhaps the key to understanding lay within himself, waiting to be discovered.
Frowning slightly, Arthur focused on the words etched into the frame. "Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi," he murmured, his brow furrowing in concentration. Suddenly, the meaning of the words became clear to him, as if a veil had been lifted from his mind. "I show not your face but your heart's desire," he translated aloud, his voice barely above a whisper.
The realization hit him like a bolt of lightning. Unlike many others who had stood before the mirror, Arthur saw no grand visions or cherished dreams reflected back at him. Instead, he saw only himself, his reflection unchanged by the magic of the mirror.
For Arthur, the mirror held no allure, no promise of unattainable desires. It was simply a mirror, reflecting the truth of his own existence. And as he stood before it, bathed in the soft glow of its golden frame, he realized that perhaps he had to be sure of who he was.
With a sigh, Arthur tore his gaze away from the mirror, his mind buzzing with questions and uncertainties. He knew that he would have to confront his fears and doubts head-on, to find the strength and courage to face whatever challenges lay ahead.