he was baked as shit on that liquid luck..
After many grueling weeks, tight scores and team mishaps, we have finally reached our first ever Quidditch League final!
Two teams are left standing.
The Chudley Cannons: the irony that they are in the final. They may be disastrous when it comes to actual Quidditch, but over the past months they have sure proven themselves as a dedicated team who can write.
The Falmouth Falcons: After a slow start, they have barely lost a game all season. They’re quick and prompt with their entries, and are a very formidable team. Ironically, the last two matches the Falcons lost were to the Cannons.
Both teams will play strong for the final. Who will win?
Okay I just came up with a headcanon
and now I’m a mess. Let’s just imagine that scarf - the scarf that Hermione left in the forest for Ron to find - was a bit more for Hermione than just a scarf. It’s been with her for years, since she was a little girl, and carries bunches of happy memories of her childhood, her family, the way her world was before the war. So it’s incredibly precious to Hermione, it means the world, reminds her of her parents, of better times. And yet she leaves it in the forest although the chance for Ron to find it is tiny. She literally leaves a part of herself behind for him. A part of her stays at the place where he had left, waiting for him to find her.
‘No,’ said Ron seriously, ‘I mean we should tell them to get out. We don’t want any more Dobbys, do we? We can’t order them to die for us –’
There was a clatter as the Basilisk fangs cascaded out of Hermione’s arms. Running at Ron, she flung them around his neck and kissed him full on the mouth. Ron threw away the fangs and broomstick he was holding and responded with such enthusiasm that he lifted Hermione off her feet.
‘Is this the moment?’ Harry asked weakly, and when nothing happened except that Ron and Hermione gripped each other still more firmly and swayed on the spot, he raised his voice. ‘OI! There’s a war going on here!’ Ron and Hermione broke apart, their arms still around each other.
‘I know, mate,’ said Ron, who looked as though he had recently been hit on the back of the head with a Bludger, ‘so it’s now or never, isn’t it?’