Fictus Nativitas
Peter found the spell in the diary. He murmured the description and usage of the spell slowly, making sure no one in the library could hear him. “Think of the object you wish to mimic—think closely—and then repeat clearly and precisely: Fictus Nativitas.”
Peter knew exactly what he needed to mimic, what he needed to create. He practiced the spell under his breath all the way back to the dormitory.
Later, sitting upright on his bed after his roommates had fallen asleep, Peter took out the diary once more. He reread the instructions, closed his eyes, and envisioned the wonderful moment he longed for: tomorrow’s match, the Golden Snitch clutched in his hand, his face glowing with triumph as the crowd roared.
Peter could almost feel the victory. Slowly, he opened his eyes and raised his wand.
“Fictus Nativitas,” he whispered.
*****************************
Peter and Stewart got up early and dressed in their Quidditch robes, as today was the moment of truth—the day they had been preparing for for so long. Peter glared at Stewart, and the two chuckled upon seeing each other in their Quidditch robes, before taking their brooms and fleeing from the Slytherin common room.
They landed on the ground to make a final practice run, as Keeper and Seeker. Peter played as a Chaser for Stewart and tried his best to score a goal, but Stewart was able to block the Quaffle every time it was thrown at him. He was confident, but Peter was not. Stewart released the Golden Snitch into the air, and Peter struggled for forty minutes to catch it, finally managing to get it in his grip. He got off his broom, disappointed.
“It took me more than forty minutes. I can’t do this,” said Peter.
“Yes, you can! Quidditch can last forty minutes, Pete—it can last the entire day, or sometimes an entire year!” Stewart responded.
“Smith or the other rivals weren’t here, Stewart! I should have caught it in fifteen minutes, and yet here we are,” Peter said, and Stewart’s face fell at this.
“So… do you have a plan? Anything that can save us from eternal humiliation?” Stewart asked.
“I have a backup ready. I hope we won’t have to use it, but in case we do, I’ll be prepared…” Peter replied, looking a bit nervous.
The two fled to the Great Hall for breakfast. Porridge wasn’t going down their throats at all. They could see the entire Slytherin table buzzing for the match. Alison, Harper, and Redmond arrived just in time. They looked sick—and Redmond looked as though he had already puked.
“Well, all good?” Peter asked them, and they only nodded. Peter was sure nothing was good. They were soon joined by Travis and Oliver, who looked no less worried than the rest of the team.
After breakfast, Peter and his teammates headed toward their lobby, where he decided to give a small pep talk and discuss the strategy.
“Alright! I know we’re not very confident, and not very prepared. We’re all first years, and Gryffindor’s team has students from all years—which means?” Peter stopped and looked at their faces.
Oliver spoke up, “No one expects us to win!”
“Exactly! Nobody is forcing you to win today. It’s all about our attempt. These Quidditch matches take place every year—we can make it next year if we don’t succeed today. So… no pressure, right?” Peter finished, scanning their faces.
The team looked more hopeful and happier than when they first entered the lobby. They nodded at each other—until Peter suddenly exclaimed, “Wrong!” and all their faces froze in thunderstruck silence.
“We are Slytherins! It’s in our instincts to win! And today you will show the world what it means to be a Slytherin!
“When the game starts—Stewart! Fly straight to the goalposts. You’re riding a Nimbus 2020, which is faster than any broom we have. Use that speed to your advantage!
“Oliver, Travis—your eyes should see only one thing today: the Bludger. I know you’re scared to play today, but remember—it’s not about protecting yourselves from the Bludger, but using it to attack the enemy!
“Alison, Harper, Redmond—your eyes should only see two things: the Quaffle and the goalposts. Don’t ever let it slide into the enemy’s hands. And Redmond—I know you puked this morning, but if you feel like puking during the game, make sure you do it on the enemy!”
As Peter concluded his speech, the entire room erupted in a roar. The Slytherins rose to their feet and cheered.
“Who are we?”
“We are the winners!” the room roared back. And Peter could see hope in their eyes.
**********************************
The teams gathered on the ground, with Madame Yanks in the center to be the coordinator of the match. The Slytherin team faced off against the Gryffindors. George Smith was staring Peter dead in the eye with a cruel smirk on his face.
“Alright, I want a fair and clean game. Captains, shake hands!” Madame Yanks said, and Peter and Quincy Gilbert, the captain of Gryffindor, shook hands. Peter could see Gilbert’s amused giggle while shaking hands, as if he knew this would be child’s play. And as Madame Yanks blew her whistle, all the players fled up into the air—the match had begun!
It was a bright sunny day, with a clear blue sky and the sun shining across Hogwarts, and Peter knew he could find the Snitch glowing brightly somewhere nearby, so he went on his search. Meanwhile, George, on his Firebolt, was doing the same. He began chasing after Peter, knowing that one of them would definitely find it. Stewart was standing like a guardian at the goalposts when a Bludger was about to hit him, and in response Stewart ducked. A Gryffindor Chaser immediately scored a point by passing the Quaffle through Slytherin’s goalpost.
Oliver and Travis were struggling to hit the Bludgers, and Stewart stared at them angrily and shouted, “Get rid of it! Don’t defend from the Bludger—use it to attack!” Oliver and Travis nodded and fled in different directions. The Quaffle was still in Gryffindor’s clutches as Alison, Harper and Redmond chased the Chaser who had it. Oliver finally saw a Bludger coming at him and used all his strength to hit it far away. The Bludger shot toward the Gryffindor Chaser, tearing apart the group of Slytherin Chasers, causing them to lose their chance at the Quaffle. Alison and Harper stared angrily at Oliver, who fled with a red face.
“Would you even try to find it by yourself? Or keep following me like a bee?” Peter taunted George.
“Alright, Harrow, fare thee well!” George replied, parting ways with Peter and giving a notorious laugh—just as a Bludger came shooting at Peter. He ducked toward the ground, nearly falling off his broom, but managed to save himself. Gryffindor made another point, and then another, and another. They were leading while the Slytherins seemed dim. Peter couldn’t tolerate this anymore. He rose on his broom and directed the Chasers:
“Alison, go west! Redmond, opposite Alison! Harper, cover the chaser from behind!”
As a Gryffindor Chaser advanced towards the goalpost, the three Slytherin Chasers took their positions as instructed. Stewart finally dodged the Quaffle, sending it rising into the air.
“Harper! Catch!” Peter shouted.
Harper shot upward, grabbed the Quaffle, and held it tight. Alison and Redmond blocked the Gryffindor Chaser, when Peter saw Marine Kingsley, the Gryffindor Beater, shooting a Bludger at Harper.
“Travis! Oliver! Cover Harper!” Peter commanded.
The two Beaters flew to either side of Harper. Oliver swung his bat with all his power, sending the Bludger straight back toward Marine, who fled up into the air. And Slytherin scored their first point. Now the team was all set.
Peter finally saw the Golden Snitch glinting in the sunlight. He also saw George racing towards it on his Firebolt. The two began their race toward the Snitch, but it changed direction and vanished again. Peter and George split up once more while Slytherin began leading the match now—one point after another. Travis and Oliver were in perfect form, using the Bludgers to their advantage, while the Chasers dominated the goalposts. Stewart dodged the Quaffles sent by their rivals just as he had during practice, while Gilbert grew enraged at losing to a group of rookies. He signaled to Marine, who nodded.
Redmond had the Quaffle in his grasp when Gilbert ordered one Chaser to cover Redmond from below and the other two to block Alison and Harper. As the moment to score arrived, Marine hit the Bludger hard at Redmond, who couldn’t dodge and was struck in the stomach, falling off his broom to the ground. Madame Yanks scooped up the injured Redmond and rushed him to the hospital wing.
The Gryffindor Chasers regained the Quaffle and fled toward the goalposts. Luckily, Stewart defended Slytherin’s side, dodging the Quaffle, enraged by Gryffindor’s dirty tactic. Peter was just as furious. Although it was technically part of the game, Gryffindor received no warning, and it felt unfair to Peter and his team.
Peter knew how to handle this. He took out a bronze Snitch from his robe pocket—the Snitch he had created last night using the Fictus Nativitas spell. This was Peter’s backup plan, his strategy to win.
Peter sneaked behind a tent and threw the bronze Snitch in George’s direction. George, gliding on his broom, saw the bronze Snitch shining and immediately began chasing the wrong Snitch. The bronze Snitch rose higher and higher into the sky until George was no longer visible from the ground.
Meanwhile, something flashed in Peter’s vision—it was the real Golden Snitch. Peter darted after it. Far above, George finally caught the bronze Snitch. He laughed triumphantly and began racing back toward the pitch.
Peter struggled with the Golden Snitch, following it as it moved in a straight line. He stretched out his arm to catch it, and all eyes turned to him. The bronze Snitch in George’s hand suddenly vanished as he approached the ground, bewildering him. He spotted Peter chasing the real Snitch and realized—too late—that he had been fooled. He accelerated his Firebolt in the Snitch’s direction.
Peter and George were now racing head-on, the Snitch right between them—and Bang!
Peter and George crashed off their brooms and tumbled to the ground. The Golden Snitch was nowhere to be seen in the air, because it was now held tightly in Peter’s hand.
Madame Yanks blew her whistle. Slytherin was awarded one hundred and fifty points, and she announced, “Slytherin wins!”
Peter’s face flushed with joy as the crowd erupted in cheers. Alison, Stewart, Harper, Oliver, and Travis all rushed to him, lifting him onto their shoulders, their faces gleaming with joy.
Slytherin had won.
************************
That night in the Great Hall, the feast tasted much better and sweeter than ever. The whole school was impressed by Slytherin’s wonderful victory. The Headmaster, Professor Lincon, and everyone at the teachers’ table were talking about the match. Professor Lincon’s face was gleaming with joy as he raised his cup of wine toward Peter with a smile. Peter nodded with a smile of his own, thanking his favourite teacher for all the confidence he had in him. Slytherin was the star of the school now.
After dinner was over, Peter, Alison, and Stewart made their way toward the Slytherin dormitory. Near the entrance, George stood holding an apple in his hand when he beamed at Peter.
“So, enjoyed the dinner, Harrow?” he said in a taunting way.
Peter halted and stared at George, who continued,
“I’m still surprised that a low-life Slytherin such as you was able to create a fake Snitch. I’ve become a fan of your deception!”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Peter hesitated.
“Oh, you know very well what I’m talking about,” George continued with a taunting smirk. “Playing dirty—what a classic Slytherin move!” he said loudly.
“And what you guys did to Redmond—how does that qualify as a clean game?” Peter shot back, fury in his eyes.
“It was by the rules. Your team should have saved him from the Bludger—provided they know how to,” George chuckled.
“Leave before I burst your silly face.”
“I will, I was just here for a chat,” George said, turning around and starting to walk away. But before he could take his next step, he turned back toward Peter and opened his mouth again.
“Ah! I forgot to tell you an amazing fact about Slytherin, Harrow!” George said with excitement, as if he were about to deliver some dramatic twist in the tale.
Peter, Alison, and Stewart were all ears.
“My father works at the Ministry. I heard him talking about it once, and I’m damn sure he was clear. You know why Slytherin was banned fifteen years ago?” George paused, watching their curious faces, then continued,
“A girl was killed by a Slytherin. That killer was sentenced to life imprisonment, and the Headmaster back then banned the house permanently from the school. Because, according to them, Slytherins only—and always—produce nasty, dark wizards!”
Before George could continue, Peter lunged toward him with his fist, but Stewart stopped him.
George chuckled and left the trio to wonder about everything on their own. The three of them pondered this information for the next few weeks. They tried to skim through all the history-related and crime-related books and newspapers to learn the truth. But unfortunately, they found nothing. They were convinced it could have been a dim-witted prank by George just to belittle them. But the confidence with which he had said all of it made it feel like it could have been the real reason Slytherin was banned.
None of the teachers or students would talk about the event that led to Slytherin’s removal from the school.
Soon arrived Christmas. Alison went to spend it with her family, while Stewart and Peter stayed back at the school. Peter’s mind was filled with questions—endless questions—but who was he supposed to get the answers from?
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