Today was the Quidditch match between Slytherin and Ravenclaw.
Young witches and wizards flocked to the Quidditch pitch.
This match was Audrey Astley's Quidditch debut!
It was a game of historic significance, destined to be recorded in A Piece of School History!
And this wasn't just idle chatter—the words came from Madam Hooch, the Hogwarts professor with the most authority on Quidditch.
"Audrey possesses every quality a top player should have. If she wants, she will surely become a Quidditch superstar!"
In truth, Audrey herself didn't quite agree.
Every quality a top player should have? Pfft. Hard training was definitely not one of them.
If it weren't for the chance to skip Potions class, she wouldn't even bother appearing on the pitch.
As for Professor Snape's five hundred Galleons… Audrey had long since lost interest. After all, she was dealing in deals worth tens of billions.
Ten minutes before the match started, Gringotts' Pucci found her.
"Miss Astley!"
"Pucci, what's the current status of Gringotts' funds?"
"Miss, 85% of Gringotts' funds across Europe have been mobilized. The bank is now preparing the third round of loans—roughly six hundred billion Couban."
"Not enough, Pucci," Audrey shook her head. "Completely insufficient."
"I understand, Miss," Pucci said admiringly. "Your team is just too strong. In only three days, you've converted over a trillion Couban into land, stocks, and patents. While these assets could secure loans of three trillion Couban, our bank is almost out of money."
"Then borrow more," Audrey said. "If the interest is high enough, I'm sure those pure-blood families wouldn't mind taking the moldy treasures from their vaults out into the sun."
"The third loan round? I can offer 80% annual interest. Tell your council, no matter how much Couban they can provide, I'll take it all!"
"Eighty percent interest?!" Pucci's jaw dropped.
"Yes, 80%, but only for one week. You know, Pucci, everyone in the world is looting Ukraine right now. In a week, there won't be much left."
…
"AUDREY ASTLEY! Let's welcome Audrey Astley to the field!"
Marcus Flint flew in the air, face dark as thunder.
That Astley—not only skipping training, now she didn't even appear for the match?
Professor Snape in the stands had the same expression—he'd invested a lot!
"Miss Audrey Astley," Lee Jordan's voice rang across the pitch. "Show us what you've got, Miss Astley!"
Dumbledore chuckled to Professor Flitwick beside him. "I bet the girl overslept!"
Flitwick, sitting next to the towering Dumbledore like a doll, chuckled. "I hope so too, but no—just now I saw her outside the pitch, talking to a goblin."
"Goblin, huh," Dumbledore said, eyes deep. "Audrey's been doing some big business lately."
"Audrey! The match is starting—if you can hear me, get out there!"
On Jordan's third call, Audrey rode her Firebolt 2000 like a comet, entering the pitch at an incredible speed.
The early January cold at Hogwarts was biting, but the excitement in the stadium seemed to suppress the chill.
Audrey's arrival drew cheers from the stands.
Slytherin supporters proudly displayed banners they'd prepared for weeks.
In an instant, phrases like "Audrey, I love you" and "Slytherin will win!" flew across the stands.
Etheline and Gemma each held a stick, unfurling a green-and-silver Slytherin banner reading, "Audrey Rules the Pitch!"
Along the edges, a little figure rode a broom back and forth—looked almost eighty percent like Audrey herself.
…
Ron rubbed his eyes. "Harry, is the Firebolt 2000 really that fast?"
Harry shook his head. "I don't know, Ron. At least when I ride it, it's not this fast!"
Hermione whispered, "Stop talking—Madam Hooch is about to start the match!"
She muttered to herself, "I wonder if Audrey will sing today?"
Draco Malfoy had the same question, staring at his cousin floating above the pitch.
"When I rode the Firebolt 2000, it didn't seem this fast…"
…
The whistle blew. The match began.
"Slytherin's Flint seizes the Quaffle! He charges toward Ravenclaw's goal…"
Lee Jordan's commentary cut in, "Wait? What's Audrey Astley doing? She's diving already? A false-dive right at the start? That's aggressive!"
"Flint knocks away Ravenclaw's Rudy Banner, ready to score!"
"Ah! What did I just see?? Audrey raises her right hand—she's caught the Golden Snitch!"
"Incredible! Unbelievable! Just ten seconds into the match, Audrey has already ended it!"
"Slytherin 150, Ravenclaw 0! Victory!"
"I knew Audrey's match would be clean! I haven't seen a clean Slytherin game in ages!"
Professor McGonagall sighed. Lee Jordan!
She wished the girl had been in Gryffindor; at least she'd gladly have let her skip Transfiguration!
Slytherin supporters ran to the player tunnel, hoping to escort their hero back to the common room—but Audrey was nowhere to be found.
Audrey: A match? Ten seconds is already my limit! I should be lying in a warm dorm, not celebrating in the freezing cold!
But barely a few minutes after lying down, Etheline dragged her to the Great Hall.
"Professor Snape said you must eat in the Great Hall today," Etheline said, seeing Audrey's displeased eyes. "If you don't go, detention!"
"Detention?!" Audrey's eyes went wide. "On what grounds? I didn't break any rules!"
Etheline sighed. Snape truly understood Audrey, already predicting her reaction.
She glanced at Audrey with sympathy. "Snape said it's for disrespecting a professor. He also said—you know what he means."
Disrespecting a professor? She hadn't! She'd just given Snape a challenging look while leaving the pitch…
Fine, maybe she slightly looked down on his five hundred Galleons, but she still fulfilled her part of the deal, didn't she?
…
Slytherin won. Snape was in a good mood. Seeing Audrey reluctantly enter the Great Hall delighted him even more.
Little rascal, still can't outwit me!
He curled his lips in a slight smile, tilted his head, and flared his nostrils at Audrey—silent but full of meaning.
Luckily, Momo seemed to sense her young master's mood and prepared a fantastic meal, instantly lifting Audrey's spirits.
…
…
Gringotts, London
Elders gathered from all over.
"What? 80% interest??"
"Take as much as they can give!"
"Is she insane?"
Morristo banged the table. "Everyone!"
The room quieted.
"This is 240% profit over three years!" he announced.
"Now it's proven: a large influx of foreign capital into Ukraine has not devalued the Couban; it's steadily rising. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for us!"
"From 1891 to 1991, Gringotts' wealth tripled," he said excitedly, "and now we have a chance to match that growth in just three years!"
"No! Because the base is bigger, we'll earn even more!"
The elders nodded—they understood.
"I propose," Morristo slammed both hands on the table, leaning forward like a gambler seeing a stack of chips, "we borrow from all the great families across Europe and the Americas. This is a no-lose deal! The more we borrow now, the more we earn later!"
"Offer them 20% annual interest! Loan term: three years! Gringotts will remain unshakable!"
"Seconded!"
"Seconded!"
"Seconded!!"