It was a perfect day for Quidditch. The stands were full, the air was crisp, and Lee Jordan was already narrating the match with a level of enthusiasm normally reserved for lottery winners and people who’ve just discovered free cake.

“AND HERE COME THE GRYFFINDORS!” he yelled. “Led by Harry Potter — looking determined, focused, and… possibly slightly worried that reality is about to unravel again.”

Harry was slightly worried, because during breakfast his pumpkin juice had inexplicably turned into chicken soup.

The Ominous Arrival

Ten minutes into the match, just as Harry spotted the Snitch, a strange ripple went through the sky. The clouds parted. A tear in reality appeared. And from it descended… Cluckthulhu.

This time, she was wearing a tiny golden Quidditch helmet.

Lee Jordan nearly dropped his microphone.
“LADIES AND GENTLEMEN — AND ANY SENTIENT VEGETABLES LISTENING — CLUCKTHULHU HAS RETURNED!”

The Chaos Begins

At first, she just floated there, majestic and faintly squeaky. But then she let out a sound somewhere between a cluck and a war trumpet — and the rules of Quidditch instantly changed.

  • Quaffles were replaced with giant jellybeans.

  • The Bludgers turned into sentient loaves of bread that chased players yelling “RESPECT THE DOUGH!”

  • The Snitch turned into a croissant that occasionally whispered French insults at Harry.

The scoreboard now read:
Gryffindor: 17 points and 3 soup coupons
Slytherin: 12 points and 1 existential crisis

The Battle for the Croissant

Harry and Draco both went for the Croissant Snitch at the same time.

“POTTER, THIS IS MINE!” Draco yelled, swiping at it.

The croissant hissed, “S’il vous plaît, no touching without consent!” and darted away.

Meanwhile, Ron (as Keeper) was desperately trying to fend off a jellybean that had decided it was in love with him. Hermione, who had been roped in as a last-minute commentator, was shouting over the chaos:

“This isn’t Quidditch anymore! This is baked goods warfare!”

The Final Move

Just as it seemed the match might spiral into complete absurdity, Cluckthulhu flapped her wings, creating a magical vortex. All the bread, jellybeans, and croissants swirled together into one massive pastry golem.

“WHY DO I FEEL LIKE WE’RE IN A SNAPE NIGHTMARE?” Ron yelled.

Harry knew what he had to do. He pointed his wand at the golem and shouted, “Expelliarmus!” — not because it made sense, but because it always worked in emergencies.

The pastry golem exploded into glitter, icing, and a faint smell of cinnamon rolls. Cluckthulhu gave Harry a slow nod of respect… and then vanished into the rift again.

Aftermath

The match was declared a draw, mostly because no one could remember what the score was or whether croissants counted as points.

And though life at Hogwarts went back to normal (well, Hogwarts normal), Harry often swore he could hear faint clucking on windy nights… like a promise that Cluckthulhu would one day return.