The Quidditch pitch, magically restored to its former glory, shimmered under the bright morning sun. Harry and his friends, free from classes, had followed Marcus Flint's suggestion to hone their skills on the field. As fate would have it, their Gryffindor rivals had the same idea, and the air crackled with animosity.
"We were here first," Marcus declared, "so the pitch belongs to Slytherin today."
Wood merely smiled, a touch of arrogance in his eyes. "Did you get permission from the Head of House? Because our Head of House already secured the pitch for us."
"Of course." Marcus, as if anticipating this, produced Severus Snape's signed permission slip for Slytherin's use of the pitch.
Seeing their advantage dissolve, both Quidditch captains seethed with frustration. The two sides resorted to their time-honored tradition: trading insults.
"Flint, your buck teeth make me want to retch!"
"Wood, you reek! That cheap, musty smell is unbearable. And look at that wreck? A Nimbus 2000! You couldn't afford anything better in ten years!"
As the captains bickered, the teammates joined in, with Angelina of Gryffindor unleashing a rapid-fire barrage of verbal attacks. Ron Weasley, who came to watch the Gryffindor practice, found it all rather distasteful.
"Those Slytherins are all villains, utterly unreasonable! They're all Death Eaters, every last one of them!"
"Death Eaters are evil! They deserve to die! Don't you agree, Ron?"
Cornered, Ron awkwardly replied, "Uh…yes, Death Eaters are…bad people."
"What's wrong with you, Ron? You're sweating buckets."
"Nothing, just a little…warm! Yes! A little warm!" The Weasley twins brushed aside Ron's discomfort. The notion of a Gryffindor, let alone a Weasley, becoming a Death Eater was simply absurd.
The argument dragged on, consuming the better part of the day. As the sun climbed higher, they realized yelling wasn't a solution.
"Heh…since words have failed, let's get physical!" Marcus and Wood exchanged knowing glances.
Then, a shout broke through the noise. "Harry? Draco? Why are you two drawing your wands?" Angelina's cry drew everyone's attention to Harry and Malfoy, wands raised.
"Didn't we agree on a 'physical' fight?"
"I'm ready! I'll take on three of you today!"
Marcus facepalmed. "I meant a Quidditch practice match! Whoever wins gets the pitch!"
"Oh." Harry and Malfoy dejectedly lowered their wands.
...
Soon, everyone was mounted on their broomsticks, ready to play.
"Marcus, I'm going to crush you!"
"Come on, try to keep up, Wood!"
As the Quaffle was released, Wood and Marcus lunged for it. However, their proximity limited their speed, and the more skilled Wood intercepted the Quaffle.
Oblivious, Harry floated leisurely above the field, waiting for the Golden Snitch. Suddenly, he noticed something odd.
"Huh? What's that flying towards me? Hiss… looks like a Bludger… wait, that speed? Holy crap!" Harry reacted instantly, narrowly dodging the incredibly fast Bludger. Before he could catch his breath, the Bludger abruptly braked and turned back!
Panic surged through Harry as he accelerated, desperately trying to outrun the rogue Bludger.
Malfoy, streaking toward the opposite goal with the Quaffle, noticed a figure flash past. "Potter?"
Then he saw another Bludger, moving at an impossible speed, bearing down on Harry. Realization dawned: Harry's broom had malfunctioned during the last match. Was the Bludger the problem this time?
Tossing the Quaffle aside without a second thought, Malfoy raced toward Harry. "Harry, I'm coming to save you!"
"What the hell, Malfoy?" Marcus sputtered, seeing Malfoy abandon the Quaffle.
But before he could question Malfoy, Wood snatched the loose Quaffle. Glaring at Malfoy's retreating figure, Marcus grit his teeth and pursued Wood.
Back near Harry, danger was imminent. The rogue Bludger, faster than a Nimbus 2000, was closing in.
"Bludger incoming!" Harry heard a familiar shout, and the Bludger, which had been aiming for his arm, suddenly halted! Seizing the opportunity, Harry sped away.
Malfoy pulled up beside him. "Potter, what's going on..."
"Here it comes again!" Before Malfoy could finish, the Bludger hurtled toward them once more. They veered away, but the relentless Bludger, faster than any broom, closed the gap.
Realizing their situation was dire, they exchanged a quick, understanding glance, nodded, and split, flying in opposite directions. The Bludger, however, seemed fixated on Harry, pursuing him relentlessly.
"Are you insane? Just chasing me and throwing things at me, aren't you?!" Harry was beyond exasperated, his expression sour.
The rogue Bludger didn't slow down; instead, it subtly increased its speed.
Seeing the Bludger closing, Harry gritted his teeth, leaned forward, and dove toward the ground.
I'm done with Quidditch. If they keep chasing me like this…
"You really are coming after me!"
As the Bludger hurtled toward him, Harry brandished his wand and cast Stupefy (Petrify).
Boom!
The spell struck the Bludger, causing it to explode.
"Heh… how could I, the number two of the Death Eaters—damn it!"
Bang!
Harry's moment of triumph was short-lived. Another Bludger shot out of nowhere, knocking him off his broom.
Lying on the ground, Harry clutched his arm. "Ouch… I think my bone is broken."
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