Heavy is the Crown (Harry Potter) Chapter 120: Gryffindor Vs. Hufflepuff (1)

[Third Person Pov]

As the day dragged on and the hour of the upcoming match between Gryffindor and Hufflepuff crept closer, Harry’s mood seemed to plummet with every passing minute. Each step he took down the corridor looked heavier than the last, as though he were walking toward his own doom rather than a Quidditch game.

Arthur was strolling alongside Neville and the rest of the Golden Trio as they made their way to their next class. He reached over to give Harry a reassuring pat on the back and said in an attempt at comfort, “Come on, it can’t be that bad.”

Harry, Ron, and Neville all stopped mid-stride and slowly turned their heads toward Arthur in perfect unison, their expressions a blend of disbelief and horror.

“Not that bad?” Harry echoed incredulously, staring at Arthur in bewilderment. “Professor Snape is going to be the referee for our next match. What could possibly be worse than that!?”

“I could think of, like, five different things off the top of my head,” Arthur said with a snort, shrugging as if the answer were obvious.

“I can’t…” Neville muttered quietly, his voice trembling ever so slightly. Just the thought of Snape was enough to make him shrink into himself.

Harry dragged his hand down his face and groaned. “Why aren’t you taking this seriously? Our house winning is at stake here, and with Snape as referee—you know exactly how he is. He hates Gryffindor. He hates us specifically. And we’re both on the team!”

“Arthur isn’t affected because he’s a substitute,” Ron added, shaking his head in exasperation. “Snape won’t be targeting him the same way.”

“…You know, I should really punch you for that comment,” Arthur said blandly, giving Ron a flat stare.

Ron lifted his shoulders up toward his ears and replied, “What? Am I wrong?”

“Not necessarily,” Arthur admitted with a huff, “but I’m still on the team and still part of the house, so I’m affected too.” He crossed his arms and wore a pout that made Neville snort.

“What you all should be concerned about is the round of exams we’ll be getting soon,” Hermione said, slipping into the conversation with her usual exasperated air. She rolled her eyes at the boys’ priorities.

“Hermione, that test you’re panicking about is still months away,” Ron groaned, waving her off. That, of course, immediately sparked their next argument.

As Ron and Hermione bickered their way down the hall, Arthur leaned closer to Harry and said in a conspiratorial tone, “You know, there’s actually a really fast solution to your problem.”

Harry’s eyes narrowed with a deep sense of distrust. “…What is it?” he asked, already expecting something ridiculous.

“Catch the Snitch immediately,” Arthur said smugly, as if he had just revealed some ancient wisdom. “End the match before Snape has time to do anything. Boom—problem solved.”

Harry just stared at him, completely deadpan. Behind him, Neville tried—and failed—to hide his laughter behind his sleeve.

“Why are you like this?” Harry asked, rubbing his forehead.

“What? It’s genuine advice!” Arthur defended loudly as they finally reached their next classroom and stepped inside. Harry shook his head the entire way, looking both tired and vaguely betrayed by the universe.

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The atmosphere across Hogwarts later that afternoon was electric. Students from every house were pouring out onto the grounds, buzzing with excitement and shouting predictions as the next big Quidditch face-off grew near. Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff—, but with Snape as referee, there was an added edge of tension that sent whispers rippling through the crowd.

Arthur wove his way through the sea of students toward the bleachers with Merlin beside him, humming a little tune. They were halfway up the stairs when he spotted Lance and Gwyneth walking together.

Arthur came to a complete stop. He blinked twice, then stared openly. Gwyneth had gone all in—her entire face was painted in bright house colors, bold streaks of yellow and black covering her cheeks, forehead, even the bridge of her nose. Tiny Hufflepuff flags poked out of both her hands, fluttering as she moved. She looked like the physical embodiment of house spirit.

“What?” Arthur blurted, absolutely stunned. Then his hand flew up to cover his mouth as laughter bubbled up uncontrollably. “What—what are you seriously doing?”

Gwyneth waved one of her tiny Hufflepuff flags right in front of Arthur’s face, the fabric brushing his nose as she said proudly, “Representing. What about you? Shouldn’t you be off with your team or something?”

Arthur shrugged lazily, as though the thought barely registered. “Nah, they’re not going to need me. And if they do, they’ll call me.” He waved his hand dismissively, completely unbothered.

“The gall—do you hear this guy?” Gwyneth said, looking at Lance and pointing her thumb at Arthur in exaggerated offense. “What exactly were you trying to say with that, huh? Are you looking down on my house?”

Arthur clasped his hands behind his head and casually strolled past her. “Hm. Who knows,” he said with a maddeningly smug tone.

Gwyneth looked between Lance and Merlin, her expression screaming ‘Are you both seeing this nonsense?’

“Why you—!” she huffed, shaking her tiny fist at him before sprinting after him with her flags bouncing wildly.

Lance and Merlin exchanged amused looks and chuckled as they followed after the two, eventually making their way up the bleachers to join Neville, Ron, and Hermione, who were already seated and watching the field fill up with students, teachers, and floating banners. The entire stadium hummed with excitement.

Lance sat down and immediately noticed something strange. “Why do you two have your wands out?” he asked, staring at Ron and Hermione, both of whom were tightly gripping their wands as though preparing for battle.

“In case Snape decides to attack Harry,” they said simultaneously, not taking their eyes off the field for a second. Their knuckles were white.

“What?” Lance blinked, looking at them as if they had sprouted extra heads. Neville, after hearing their explanation, nervously pulled out his own wand as well, holding it awkwardly in his lap like a shield.

“I mean—I get that Professor Snape can be a little… harsh and definitely biased,” Lance admitted, “but he wouldn’t outright attack a student. Especially not with Dumbledore watching.”

Ron scoffed at Lance’s reasoning, waving him off. “Of course you would think that. He’s your house’s head teacher—Ow!”

Ron yelped as someone poked the back of his head sharply. He turned, scowling—only to find Draco Malfoy standing there, smirking like he’d been waiting all day for this moment.

“Oh, sorry, Weasley,” Malfoy drawled with mock innocence. “Didn’t see you there.”

Crabbe and Goyle erupted into their typical heavy, clueless snickering, as though Malfoy had just delivered the joke of the century.

Lance, Neville, and Hermione all stared at Malfoy, but Malfoy’s eyes slid over them dismissively—until they locked onto Lance specifically. His expression twisted with disdain.

“I see you still aren’t smart enough to know who is worth hanging around with and who isn’t,” Malfoy sneered.

Gwyneth, who had just plopped down on the other side of Lance, immediately snorted. The sound drew Malfoy’s irritation like a magnet.

“What’s so funny?” he snapped, brows knitting together.

Gwyneth covered her mouth with her hand, but her smirk was unmistakable. “Just… how easily you managed to insult yourself,” she said sweetly. “If Lance ‘isn’t smart,’ then what does that make you, exactly? I mean, come on. It’s obvious to literally everyone that when it comes to intelligence, Lance is superior to you in every way.”

“Oooh,” Ron breathed before bursting into laughter. Neville’s eyes widened. Hermione’s lips twitched despite her best efforts.

Malfoy’s pale face began flushing rapidly, turning a blotchy shade of red as quiet snickers rippled through the surrounding students.

“You—!” Malfoy hissed, fists clenching.

But Gwyneth cut him off without hesitation. “Do you seriously think Lance is going to be insulted because someone dumber than him called him ‘not smart’? Honestly.” She shrugged as though the entire situation were painfully simple.

Laughter erupted around them. Ron practically doubled over.

Lance and Arthur both stared at Gwyneth in open-mouthed disbelief—Arthur because he wasn’t expecting that level of savagery from her, and Lance because he wasn’t entirely sure if he should be impressed or concerned.

Meanwhile, Merlin sat next to Arthur, nodding proudly like a general watching one of her soldiers deliver a flawless attack.