Chapter 912: Fake Stuff for Stealing Chickens
"And now, let us welcome the Irish National Quidditch Team!"
Bagman's booming voice brought Harry to an end.
"Connolly! Ryan! Troy! Mallett! Moran! Quigley! And—and—and—Linzie!"
Seven blurry dark green figures flew onto the field, and the Bulgarian team on the huge light screen switched to the Irish team that had just appeared.
The bright red flags floating in the sky were replaced with dark green ones, and the enthusiasm of the supporters was almost the same as before.
Both sides are very strong and evenly matched in every sense of the word.
"Finally, we have today's referee, Hassan Mustafa, the popular president of the International Quidditch Federation, who flew all the way from Egypt!"
As soon as Bagman finished speaking, the short and thin Mustafa strode into the arena.
He was wearing a pure gold robe that matched the color of the stadium and was as high-spirited as the players.
Without further ado, Mustafa mounted his broom and kicked the box in the middle of the arena away.
He blew his whistle and flew into the air with the bright red Quaffle, two black Bludgers, and the tiny Golden Snitch.
"Okay, the game officially begins!"
Ivanova launched an attack immediately, but the chaser Troy on the opposite side was one step faster than her.
At 0:10, the Irish team scored first.
Soon, the score came to 0:30.
Troy was tall and strong, but surprisingly, he was even more agile than Ivanova.
In the VIP box, O'Brienston in the front row was getting a little restless.
No one would be able to laugh if the opponent scored 30 points at the beginning.
Fudge, who was beside him, glanced at the Irish Minister for Magic, who was sitting on his other side.
He looked very calm, and he must have been very happy in his heart.
"Ivanova breaks the blockade - beautiful! She scores this goal!"
In the huge light screen was a pretty face, panting.
Through the slow-motion replay, we can see that Ivanova has just tried his best. The targeted blockade of the Irish team is very effective and deadly.
The Bulgarian team quickly adjusted their tactics, but the opponent's cooperation was seamless, and Troy scored two more goals.
"Krum rushed to the ground. Could it be the Golden Snitch?"
A bright red figure swooped down, followed by a dark green figure.
Krum looked back, then increased his speed again and stretched out his right hand.
Just as the broom was about to touch the ground, he suddenly raised it and swept across the lawn.
Lin Qi behind him had no time to react and crashed heavily into the lawn, raising a large piece of dirt.
Referee Mustafa quickly flew over, blew the whistle, and called the doctor on the field.
"I'm fine." Lin Qi stood up and shook off the dirt on his body. "I can still continue the game."
The doctor insisted on giving him simple treatment, and Krum, who successfully performed the Wronski feint, was able to search for the Snitch undisturbed for the next few minutes.
If the Irish team is targeting us, don't blame the Bulgarian team for playing dirty.
O'Briensden in the VIP box suddenly smiled happily, but the Irish Minister of Magic remained calm.
In the back row, Vincent was explaining to Hermione what a Wronski feint was.
She knew the rules of Quidditch, but her tactical understanding was limited to that of a Chaser.
"In simple terms, the Wronski feint is a tactic in which a Seeker deliberately tricks the opponent into thinking that the Snitch is below, thereby causing the opponent to imitate the Snitch and crash to the ground before being able to react."
"Oh, so it's a fake thing used to steal chickens."
When Vincent saw the reply, he quickly pinched his thigh hard. Hermione's metaphor was so vivid.
"T^T My leg is swollen from being pinched, comfort me!"
"=?= Sorry, I'll give you a massage after the game?"
"·v· Let me think about it."
"＾w＾How nice."
Sirius could swear to old man Merlin that he really didn't peek on purpose.
Although this is a corner in the back row, Vincent is being too blatant.
Just chat if you want to, why do you have to make the projection screen of the magic communicator so big, are you afraid that the person sitting next to you can't see it?
Guys in the front row, someone is abusing dogs here!
Vincent felt his resentful gaze, raised his head and looked at him blankly, "What's wrong?"
Sirius pointed at the light screen that was about to hit his face and said, "Can you hold yourself back a bit?"
Vincent reduced the screen with an apologetic look on his face. "Ah, I was too engrossed in the conversation. Sorry."
Harry was concentrating on watching the game the whole time. Lin Qi had already returned to the field. Although Krum had successfully gained a few minutes, he gained nothing.
With the Irish team's orderly attack, the score quickly reached 10:120.
Gradually, the Bulgarian team began to get impatient.
Their goalkeeper, Zograf, glared fiercely at the Irish team's chaser, Mallett, who was rushing towards him.
The moment the opponent threw the ball, he accelerated and crashed into him heavily.
Mallett quickly steadied himself and the Quaffle passed through the goal smoothly.
Zograf's obvious foul was immediately penalized by referee Mustafa.
"Black whistle! Absolutely black whistle!" Bulgaria's supporters were extremely dissatisfied with the penalty.
"There was no collision at all!"
Mustafa looked particularly bad.
Although this is the UK, there are very few British fans in the stadium. Where did these Quidditch hooligans come from?
My dear, there is more to come after this chapter. Please click on the next page to continue reading. There will be more exciting chapters later!
After the high-definition slow-motion replay of the magic projection, the supporters of the Bulgarian team were completely silent.
They calmed down, but it was the turn of the Irish team's supporters to be dissatisfied.
They even dared to shout that the penalty made by the President of the International Quidditch Federation was a black whistle. If there were no replays this time, these thugs would definitely be even more shameless.
"You little Bulgarian chicks can't stand losing, can't you?"
"If you can't afford to lose, don't come. Do you think the finals are a joke?"
Seeing that a riot was about to break out, Scrimgeour stood up and left the top box, leading a special team to quickly drive the troublemakers out of the gymnasium.
Mustafa blew the whistle and announced that the free throw was valid again.
He turned to face the Bulgarian goal and raised his right hand to signal Mallet to get ready.
When both sides were ready, he unconsciously glanced at the Veela under the goal.
Everyone was waiting for his signal, but he didn't raise his right hand.
People who didn't know the truth followed his gaze and found that the veela were actually winking at him.
The Irish supporters, who were filled with anger, were completely furious:
"Shameless!"
"They are the ones who should be kicked out of the competition!"
"You little chicken who can't stand losing! How many dirty tricks do you have left?"
The entire stadium fell into chaos again, and Scrimgeour, who had just gathered the team, led it back again.
Mustafa's face was extremely gloomy when he woke up.
He blew his whistle hard and announced sharply: "Another free throw for the Irish team!"
After saying that, he swung his right hand heavily. Mallet, who had been ready for a long time, made a fake move and then threw the Quaffle in his hand with all his strength.
Zograf was fooled, and the Quaffle went through the goal smoothly.
On the second free throw, he thought Mallett was faking it again, but he didn't expect the other party to actually shoot the ball.
Both goals were scored and the score was 10:150.
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