"They say the weather taking a turn is a bad omen, and the saying couldn't be more fitting. Everyone had already begun to predict the coming rain, and more than that, they were starting to accept it."
"Man, the Gryffindors are in real trouble."
"Honestly, just stealing the Quaffle at all is already a pretty good showing, isn't it?"
"Yeah, for real."
"And seriously, the way they keep self-destructing is hilarious."
As I passed by the stands, I began to hear comments like that here and there, even from fellow Slytherins. The entire stadium was being enveloped in an atmosphere that expected Gryffindor's victory.
That suffocating pressure, like a noose slowly tightening, gradually spread to the players as well. The Beaters' swings were losing their sharpness, and the Keeper's blocks were beginning to lack brilliance.
And finally, even the Chasers, who had managed to keep their morale until the very end, began to show signs of resignation. Against Flint's no-look pass, Pusey's movement, dulled by a lapse in concentration, was a beat too slow.
Just one beat, yet that single beat made all the difference. In a match with the championship cup within reach, even a momentary lapse could be fatal.
"—!"
In an instant, Gryffindor's Alicia moved in for the steal. Pusey managed to block her with a tackle, but the falling Quaffle ended up in Angelina's hands.
Gryffindor immediately formed up and charged toward the goal using the Hawkshead Attacking Formation, a tactic where three Chasers form an arrowhead shape and rush straight for the hoops.
Looking back at our own side, Pusey was being chased by two Bludgers. Flint had shaken his off, but he was too far away. And Elaina, who wasn't particularly strong at stealing, was struggling to deal with the Hawkshead Formation.
This was bad.
Before I could even think, I, Draco Malfoy, hunched low over the handle of my Nimbus 2001.
(I'm not letting this happen…!)
The move that came to me in that instant was interference disguised as a Wronski Feint.
Normally, it's a feint where you pretend to have spotted the Snitch and dive straight toward it. But this time, my target wasn't Potter. I calculated my broom's angle and speed, made it look like a Wronski Feint, and dove straight toward Gryffindor's Chasers in their Hawkshead Formation.
"What's that idiot doing—"
"That moron's coming straight at us!"
The Weasley twins realized my intent and hurriedly sent Bludgers my way, but I accelerated even further and charged in.
"Eek!"
"Wha—!?"
Just as planned. Seeing the Nimbus 2001 barreling toward them, the Gryffindor Chasers mistook it for an attempt at rough play and scattered in all directions.
"Oops!"
Just before colliding with Johnson, who had the Quaffle, the tip of her broom grazed my shoulder hard at the last possible moment.
A dull pain tore through my clothes and skin from my left arm up to my shoulder, and my body screamed in protest. Even so, I kept acting the Wronski Feint to the very end, careful not to make it obvious.
It was right on the edge of being called a foul, but perhaps because I'd paid for it in blood, the referee's whistle never sounded.
Just as planned, Gryffindor's formation collapsed. Johnson, thrown off balance, desperately tried to stay mounted on her broom in an unstable posture.
And then—
Right beside her, a streak of ash-gray hair shot past.
"Elaina!"
Dodging the Bludgers launched by the startled Weasley twins, Elaina charged forward. A straightforward, head-on突破 with no fancy tricks, something she would never normally do.
But right now, she had no choice.
"Not so fast!"
Close on Elaina's heels was Gryffindor's Chaser, Alicia Spinnet. Determined to steal the Quaffle at all costs, she watched Elaina's every move without letting her guard down.
Then Elaina did something completely unexpected.
"Here."
She dropped her altitude and suddenly reached to her chest, untying the clasp of her uniform cloak and shrugging it off mid-flight. The cloak spread out behind her from air resistance and flew straight toward Spinnet, who had been right on her tail, threatening to wrap around her face.
"Ah!"
Spinnet somehow managed to twist her broom aside and avoid it, but Elaina had already opened up the distance and charged straight for the goal.
However, waiting ahead of her was Katie Bell. She rushed straight at Elaina, aiming to steal the Quaffle head-on.
"I won't let you—will I?"
When the distance between them closed to about a broom's length, Elaina made an unbelievable move.
"Hup!"
Still clutching the Quaffle, she leapt off her broom, slipped directly beneath the stunned enemy Chaser, and as she fell, calmly cast a spell.
"Accio! Broom, come!"
Catching her summoned broom one-handed, Elaina flipped through the air like an acrobat and flew off once more.
(She actually pulled an aerial dismount here…!?)
It was a flashy move when done as a performance, but practically no one ever used it in a real match. The difficulty was extremely high, and failure usually meant a serious injury, making the risks far outweigh the benefits. Sure enough, Madam Hooch wore a grim expression.
Even so—
"Elaina, that was awesome!"
"Encore! Do it again!"
The crowd's reaction was overwhelmingly positive. Daphne and Millicent shouted at the top of their lungs, and not just Slytherin but even Gryffindor supporters erupted in excitement.
"Nice play!"
"I totally fell for that one!"
The Weasley twins were even applauding an opponent. Some spectators clapped, others stared wide-eyed, and some frowned. Reactions were all over the place.
"Honestly, what is she thinking…?"
But Elaina wasn't fooling around. She had seriously used that move as an effective tactic, not only evading the enemy Chasers but also completely catching the Keeper, Oliver Wood, off guard.
And then—
"Elaina! Finish it!"
I shouted without thinking, fired up in a way that wasn't like me at all.
Before Wood could move.
Straight. Perfectly straight.
Released like an arrow from a meticulously calculated angle, the Quaffle flew with both ruthless efficiency and graceful elegance.
Whoosh.
Cutting through the air, it was swallowed by the goal without a sound.
"Ah…"
I wasn't the only one who felt like time had stopped. In that instant, everyone was probably staring blankly, following the Quaffle's path.
For what felt like an eternity of a single second, that supple shot was like a comet tearing through the darkness of night.
"WoooooOOOOOOOO—!!!"
The perfect shot sent the entire stadium into an uproar. At this point, it no longer mattered whether one was Slytherin or Gryffindor. Even voices from Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw rang out with exclamations like "Are you serious?!" and "That girl's insane!" as everyone praised Elaina's play, not as a member of a house, but as a single outstanding player.
(You really are something… you always manage to snatch the best moments so flawlessly.)
But the real show was only just beginning.
Elaina flew circles around the goal with a smug expression, gave a polite bow to the crowd, then swung her wand while chanting a spell.
The next instant, sparks crackled violently from the wand's tip. Before anyone could process it, the sparks flared up and transformed into a massive dragon, blazing and shining in green and red.
"Celestelia! Using irrelevant… no, even relevant magic during a match is unacceptable… um, please focus on the game!"
Madam Hooch drew her wand and tried to dispel it with a spell, but instead the dragon grew even larger and soared leisurely above the spectator stands.
When Elaina waved her wand like a conductor's baton, the dragon scattered showers of sparks over the crowd and began spewing eerie purple smoke from its nose and mouth.
Naturally, the stands erupted in thunderous cheers.
Only then did Elaina finally put her wand away. She spun her right hand playfully and began saluting the crowd with exaggerated flair.
She had scored only ten points, yet the excitement was as if the match had already been decided. More than anyone else, Elaina herself seemed to be enjoying it.
(Come to think of it, last year Flint pulled some stupid joke before the match to ease the tension too…)
This year, everyone had been swallowed by fear of the Firebolt, but Elaina clearly hadn't forgotten. When things are truly hard, when you feel like you might break, that's exactly when a bit of mischief is needed.
"You've got a lot of nerve," I said as we passed each other.
As expected, she looked completely unfazed.
"Well, I turned the tide in this situation. No matter how you look at it, that makes me the hero, doesn't it?"
She said it with absolute confidence.
(She's right. Just ten points, and the momentum is already starting to shift.)
Before I knew it, my cheeks had relaxed into a smile.
(Seriously, she's unbelievable…!)
A genuine urge to praise her welled up inside me, but an unfamiliar frustration rose at the same time and stopped the words from leaving my mouth.
It was pure admiration mixed with a hint of jealousy, and probably a small spark of rivalry too.
I knew Elaina wasn't some fragile girl who needed constant protection. Still, relying on her all the time felt like an affront to my pride as a man, however petty it was.
I had just resolved to show my own worth as well, when—
I saw something that nearly made my heart stop.
One or two meters above the grass, something golden was gleaming.
"—!"
Before I could even think, I sent my broom into a steep dive.
That I moved on pure reflex was probably thanks to daily training. But there was no room to relax. Potter, who had been farther away, immediately noticed the Snitch as well and gave chase. Considering the difference in our brooms' performance, it was going to be dangerously close.
"Harry Potter is closing in fast on Malfoy, who's chasing the Snitch! Damn, a Bludger's heading for Harry! Incredible, he dodged it! That Firebolt really lives up to the hype!"
Potter flattened himself against his broomstick, slipping past the incoming Bludger without losing any speed. And then—
"Yes! Harry has caught up to Malfoy's heels!"
It sounded like the entire crowd sucked in a breath at once.
"Go! Go! Go!"
Right behind me, Potter was whipping his broom harder and harder. Thanks to the difference in performance, the distance between us steadily shrank.
"Like hell I'll let you!"
Just before Potter drew level with me, I nudged my broom slightly to block his path. Forced to veer off course, Potter drifted just a little, opening the gap again. Even so, I'd bought at most ten seconds.
"Neither Harry nor Malfoy is giving an inch! At this rate, they're heading straight for the ground—"
So Lee Jordan can give a proper commentary for once, I thought absurdly. Maybe he didn't even have the leeway to favor Gryffindor as usual. He was shouting something in a panicked voice, but it was soon drowned out by the wind tearing past my ears.
At the edge of my vision, I sensed the spectators rising to their feet in unison, but I ignored it and kept accelerating toward the ground.
One second faster. At maximum speed, on the shortest path. Straight ahead, in a single line.
"Oooooooooh!"
"Aaaaaaaaah!"
My shout overlapped with Potter's, which meant he was completely alongside me now. Given the difference in broom performance, it would take less than three seconds for him to pull ahead.
But I wouldn't let that happen.
"Ooooooooh!"
I released my grip on the broom and leaned forward.
The ground was right there, close enough to see individual blades of grass. Even so, retreat was never an option.
I was done losing to fear like last year.
Instead, I thrust my arm forward again and again.
(Reach it…!)
Right beside me was Potter's hand. In just a few more inches, our fingertips would touch the Snitch.
And then—
Just before our hands could grasp it, the Golden Snitch suddenly fluttered and changed direction.
"Huh?"
"Ah—"
Unable to pull up in time, I slammed straight into the ground. I managed to leap off the broom at the last instant, but still tumbled across the turf again and again.
Just above my head, I saw Potter fly off, having barely managed to recover from his dive and pull up. My entire body throbbed with pain from head to toe, but at least one thing went my way: the Snitch vanished once more.
(Damn Firebolt…)
Feeling as though the difference in our brooms had been rubbed in my face, I spat onto the ground in frustration.
"Honestly… if you're going to commit suicide, could you do it somewhere else?"
I lifted my head to see Elaina looking down at me with an exasperated expression, her ash-gray hair fluttering in the wind. In one hand, she held my Nimbus 2001. Apparently, she had retrieved it for me.
"I just fell off my broom a bit," I replied, trying to shrug it off.
But even that slight movement sent a numb, piercing pain through my entire body. The cause was obvious, and the pain only continued to worsen.
Seeing my condition, Elaina frowned.
"I'll ask Professor Hooch to temporarily stop the match. Draco, you—"
Before she could finish, I forced my arm up to stop her. Meeting her annoyed gaze head-on, I gave a crooked smile.
"Running away in front of the enemy isn't my style. I've got at least that much pride."
She looked even more exasperated, but I continued anyway.
"And besides, if I turn things around from here… then I'll be the hero next, won't I?"
(End of chapter)
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