The next morning, when Harry and the rest of the Gryffindor Quidditch team entered the Great Hall, they were greeted with resounding applause. Even students at the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables joined in, clapping enthusiastically.
A few Slytherins hissed in disapproval, but their jeers were quickly drowned out by the overwhelming cheers.
Wood spent the entire breakfast urging his team to eat more, though he didn't touch a single bite himself. Harry wasn't faring much better—his face was tense as if he had stomach cramps, and he kept jabbing a cork with his fork.
# Hermione: "You'll do great."
Hermione reassured him, though her own expression betrayed her nerves.
# Ron: "You've got the Firebolt!"
Ron reminded him.
# Harry: "Yeah…"
Harry muttered, sounding less than confident.
Orli was about to offer some words of encouragement herself when Dryncorpse swooped in, clutching that day's Daily Prophet. The plump owl glared at her, one leg raised imperiously, and she had no choice but to attend to it before letting it fly off.
Sitting beside her, Ron had already snatched up the newspaper and was muttering the headline on the front page:
# Ron: "'Breaking News: Peter Pettigrew Dies in Cowardly Escape Attempt'…"
He gasped audibly.
# Harry: "What?"
Harry snatched the paper from Ron's hands and read aloud:
# Harry: "Peter Pettigrew committed suicide yesterday afternoon while being escorted to Azkaban."
# Harry: "Previously convicted of leaking critical information to You-Know-Who, which directly led to the deaths of James and Lily Potter, Peter Pettigrew was sentenced to death by the Wizengamot on April 2nd. He was to be sent to Azkaban to receive the Dementor's Kiss. However, while being escorted by Aurors, Pettigrew transformed into a rat, escaped custody, and drowned himself in the sea. Despite extensive searches, no body has been recovered. Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge has confirmed Pettigrew's death…"
# Ron: "That's brilliant!"
Ron exclaimed, punching the air in triumph.
# Harry: "Is he really dead?"
Harry asked, his voice tinged with disbelief.
Hermione exchanged a concerned glance with Orli but decided it was best not to dampen Harry's spirits before the match:
# Hermione: "He should be, since the Minister of Magic said so. Anyway, Harry, you should focus on the Quidditch match for now."
# Ron: "Exactly! Maybe it's your parents watching over you—delivering the news of Pettigrew's death just in time for the final."
Ron's infectious optimism seemed to lift Harry's spirits, and he finally nodded.
Orli, however, felt a knot tightening in her chest, her stomach twisting painfully as if she had swallowed something alive and wriggling. Could Wormtail really have taken his own life? She didn't believe it for a second. Not just because no body had been found, but because that cowardly, spineless rat didn't have the courage to end his own life.
Peter had faked his death once before; it was his specialty. If he had used this as an opportunity to escape…
A chill ran down her spine, and the mild spring air suddenly felt like icy shards in her lungs.
At last, the entire Quidditch team set down their utensils. As they left the Great Hall, another round of applause erupted. Harry followed the team out of the castle doors, heading toward the players' locker room on the grassy field. Hermione and Ron joined the throng of Gryffindor supporters, all adorned with scarlet roses and waving banners emblazoned with slogans like "Gryffindor for the Win!" and "Lions Take the Cup!" as they noisily made their way to the Quidditch stands.
Orli, feeling like a ghost adrift in the crowd, was swept along. Suddenly, out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a group of at least 200 Slytherins streaming out of the castle's front doors. They were all decked out in green accessories, and the silver serpent of Slytherin gleamed ominously on their banners. At the back of the group walked Snape, a silver serpent badge with piercing green eyes pinned to his chest.
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