The freezing rain didn't let up for a single second.
Draco furiously hurled the smoking parchment onto the wet grass, hoping the downpour would extinguish the flames. When that didn't work, he started violently stomping on it.
But by the time the fire finally died, the rolls of parchment were nothing but a pile of blackened ash.
Draco snapped his head up, staring in pure disbelief at Richie's completely unbothered expression. It finally clicked. Richie had rigged the parchment from the start!
He had been playing Draco for an absolute fool this entire time.
"Richie Harland!" Draco roared over the storm.
Behind him, his cronies instantly drew their wands and leveled them at Richie.
Richie didn't flinch. He just calmly adjusted the hood of his raincoat.
Lightning spider-webbed across the dark sky, followed by a deafening crack of thunder. As the light flashed, silhouettes materialized in the gloom behind Richie.
Terry, Anthony, and Stephen stepped into view.
Another flash of lightning illuminated the opposite side. Neville, Seamus, and Wendy emerged from the darkness.
They all stared dead at Draco, their wands held loosely at their sides.
Draco's pupils dilated. Seeing the sudden backup, the hot, arrogant anger in his chest rapidly warped into genuine panic.
But it wasn't over.
Splash. Splash.
Heavy footsteps echoed through the puddles. Draco violently whipped around. Standing right behind the Slytherins were several wizards drenched in blue Ravenclaw Quidditch uniforms, their eyes burning with absolute hostility.
Leading the pack was Ravenclaw Captain Razim Gideon.
And off to their left, four more figures stood shoulder-to-shoulder—the Ravenclaw Prefects.
They outmanned the Slytherins two-to-one.
Realizing they were completely surrounded, the other Slytherin lackeys slowly lowered their wands. They exchanged one panicked look before breaking into a sprint, bolting through the only gap in the crowd.
Nobody tried to stop them. In the blink of an eye, Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle were the only ones left.
"You... you!" Draco stammered, pointing a trembling finger at Richie. "Fine! Just you wait!"
He took a step back, his voice cracking. "My father will hear about this!"
With that, Draco turned and sprinted toward the castle as fast as his legs could carry him.
Crabbe and Goyle just stood there, wands raised, looking completely lost. It took them a few seconds to realize Draco had bailed. Letting out a synchronized yelp of panic, the two meatheads stumbled over their own feet and frantically bolted after him.
Watching Draco disappear into the rain, Richie let out a long, slow exhale.
"Man... what a massive headache."
---
### The Aftermath
By the time Richie and his massive escort made it back to the Great Hall, the room was mostly empty.
Most of the students had already gulped down their hot soup and rushed back to their dorms for a hot shower to kick off the weekend.
Richie peeled off his dripping raincoat and looked at the crowd gathered around him, feeling genuinely a bit awkward. "Seriously, guys. Thanks for having my back out there."
"Don't even mention it!" Neville jumped in immediately. "You don't have to be scared, Richie. We've got your back!"
"Exactly!" Seamus nodded vigorously. "Those Slytherin cowards only go after people when they're alone! But as long as we're around, they aren't touching you!"
Neville and Seamus were completely convinced this was just a classic case of Slytherin bullying and that Richie had been caught alone.
Wendy, however, knew better. She noticed the weird, loaded looks the Ravenclaws were exchanging and instantly realized there was a lot more to the story. Being tactful, she clapped Neville and Seamus on the shoulders and steered them away, giving the Eagles some much-needed privacy.
"Richie, why are you even still talking to Malfoy?" Terry blurted out the second the Gryffindors were out of earshot. "I thought you blew them off back when they tried to 'befriend' you."
"I did," Richie said, shaking his head. "But they came back. And they forced my hand."
He glanced over at Joel. The four figures standing off to the side on the pitch had been the Ravenclaw Prefects.
Meeting Richie's eyes, Joel gave a slow, understanding nod. "So... the data Malfoy had was fake."
Richie looked at the Prefects and the Quidditch team, letting out a tired sigh. "He threatened me. Blackmailed me to steal our Quidditch strategy logs."
Seeing Razim and the team instantly tense up, Richie quickly held up a hand. "Obviously, I didn't give them the real logs. I forged a completely fake set of data and handed that over instead."
Razim frowned. "Then where are the real ones?"
"Safe." Penelope stepped forward, seamlessly jumping in to back Richie up. "We anticipated this. Richie came to us beforehand, and we proactively pulled the real strategy board to protect it. It was all a setup to make Malfoy genuinely believe he was buying stolen intel."
Though Richie hadn't laid out the entire psychological operation, Penelope was sharp enough to piece the exact timeline together based on his explanation.
"Right," Joel added, turning to the team. "That massive panic in the common room the other night? We staged it. We needed to sell the theft, but we also used it to rally the house. The data is important, sure, but as long as Ravenclaw stays united, we can reconstruct those numbers a hundred times over. We'll head back to the common room now, explain everything, and bring the real board back out."
Hearing the full story, the hard edge completely vanished from the Quidditch team's faces.
Razim stepped up and clapped a heavy hand on Richie's shoulder. "No wonder Slytherin was flying like complete idiots out there. They were running a fake playbook. Good work, Richie. I had no idea things got that intense behind the scenes." He paused, looking genuinely apologetic. "And honestly... I'm sorry. I actually doubted you for a second there."
Richie shook his head. "I'm the one who should apologize. I didn't mean to stress you guys out. I'm just glad it didn't blow up in our faces."
The Quidditch players nodded in firm agreement. Seeing Richie casually take the heat earned him a massive amount of unspoken respect.
"Slytherin is absolutely sickening!" Terry fumed, stepping up to defend his roommate. "The hate mail, the ambushes, and now straight-up extortion? If Richie wasn't so brilliant, who knows what would have happened!"
Terry's rant resonated perfectly with the rest of the house. Any lingering doubts vanished instantly. Exactly—it was all those underhanded Slytherin snakes causing trouble!
"Alright, wrap it up. Everyone drink your soup before you catch a cold," Joel ordered, waving the Ravenclaws over to the tables.
Just as the group started to settle in, two unfamiliar faces walked into the Great Hall.
They zeroed in on the Ravenclaw Captain and approached, wearing bright, professional smiles. "Razim Gideon?"
Razim looked slightly confused but extended a hand to shake theirs. "I'm sorry, do I know you?"
"Allow me to introduce myself. I'm Reporter Kernburg with the Daily Prophet's Quidditch division. I'm here covering today's match."
"And I'm Paul," the other man added. "Quidditch Scout for the Wigtown Wanderers. I'm always on the hunt for top-tier talent."
The scout gave Razim a pointed look. "Do you have a few minutes to spare?"
Razim's eyes lit up. A massive, beaming smile broke across his face.
"Oh, absolutely."