BOOM!
Same move, same 'V'-shaped scratch.
Angelina's roar echoed across the Quidditch pitch.
"Hold the defense!"
As long as they could hold the line, they could win.
Angelina placed all her hopes on Harry.
Montague was knocked off his broom by a Bludger, and the Quaffle was intercepted.
Every Gryffindor's heart leapt into their throat. The score now was 130 to 20.
If Harry caught the Golden Snitch, they would win.
Madam Hooch blew the whistle to pause the game and flew over to check on the two players. Malfoy was the first to stand. He opened his clenched fist—his palm was empty, no Golden Snitch in sight.
"Yes!"
Cheers erupted from the Gryffindor stands. Malfoy had missed the Snitch once again.
Under the eyes of the entire stadium, Harry finally stood up.
He tightly clenched his right hand, then slowly opened it.
The Weasley twins were pulling faces at Goyle and Crabbe, and Angelina was already thinking about how to praise Harry.
Under everyone's gaze, that right hand opened completely.
Lee Jordan's voice rang out, both surprised and bewildered.
"Empty?"
Unexpectedly, Harry hadn't caught the Golden Snitch either.
Because of that blinding flash in the moment before, he missed it.
The movement had been too intense—after their collision and fall, neither of them noticed the Snitch slipping right past their fingertips.
"This means…"
Someone finally realized.
"The match isn't over yet!" Lee Jordan shouted.
The teams on the pitch snapped out of it—yes, the match wasn't over.
Angelina's heart sank to rock bottom, while Montague, rubbing his head, got up from the ground.
Luckily, Montague's body was tough enough. Otherwise, that hit might've taken him out of the game.
Retrieving his broom, Montague soared back into the air.
After confirming both players were okay, Madam Hooch announced the match would resume.
Both sides returned to a fierce, neck-and-neck match.
Despite Angelina trying everything she could to intercept, Gryffindor's score still kept falling further behind in the face of the overwhelming "Trident" attack.
By the end, Gryffindor was powerless to turn the tide.
And just then, the Golden Snitch appeared again!
Harry and Malfoy both chased after it, and in the end, Harry caught the Snitch with a rather undignified tumble and roll on the ground.
But aside from saving a bit of face for Gryffindor, it didn't help in the slightest.
The final score: 240 to 190.
Gryffindor was still 50 points behind.
Just like that time in the World Cup, when Krum caught the Snitch to preserve Bulgaria's last shred of dignity.
"WooooHooooo~~!!!"
Slytherin erupted in cheers, while Gryffindor hung their heads in disappointment.
Harry silently patted the grass and dirt from his clothes. Malfoy descended on his broom with a mocking expression on his face.
"Potter, what a shame. You swapped out your Keeper, and compared to the last guy, Ron Weasley's like a sieve, isn't he?"
Hearing Malfoy insult Ron, Harry roared in anger, "Shut up!"
"Heh, if he wasn't wearing a red uniform," Malfoy jeered, "I'd have thought he was playing for Slytherin."
"Bahahah~~ I think I could write a song to praise his glorious performance."
Harry saw Ron slowly descending from the goalposts, trudging back alone to the locker room, dejected.
He was furious. Malfoy was still going at it.
"Pfft~ He kept tossing the ball right into the goal—Muahahaha~~ Bless him for helping us win this match." Malfoy was asking for a beating, humming a little improvised tune.
The rest of the Gryffindor players landed one after another. Hearing Malfoy singing over there, each of them glared murderously.
Still singing, Malfoy mimed a throwing motion again.
Crabbe happened to land and immediately mimicked Ron's panicked flailing.
This set off a round of roaring laughter from the Slytherin team.
Harry's eyes turned red with anger. With a low growl, he charged straight at Malfoy.
And it wasn't just him—the Weasley twins followed right behind.
They might tease their younger brother Ron, but they'd never let anyone else humiliate him.
Angelina tried to stop them, but it was too late.
Harry, being the closest to Malfoy, clenched his fist and swung at him.
"Heh~"
Malfoy grinned, dodged with a step back and a sidestep, then grabbed Harry's sleeve and yanked hard.
"Ack!"
Harry stumbled, his body involuntarily falling backward.
Malfoy ducked down to avoid the perfectly coordinated punch from the twins, then landed a left hook on George's face and kicked Fred in the stomach with his right leg.
Fred winced in pain but grabbed hold of that leg. Taking the chance, Harry lunged up and tackled Malfoy around the waist.
"Ugh—!"
Malfoy lifted his left foot and kicked Fred on the shoulder to break free, then swept his leg around, knocking Harry down once more.
All the resentment from being beaten up by John last time—Malfoy vented it all on Harry without holding back.
The twins tried to help again, but Crabbe and Goyle appeared—one like a rampaging boar, the other with bear-like strength—each taking one of the twins down.
By the time Madam Hooch came over, wand in hand, to break them apart, the three Gryffindors were all bruised and battered.
Malfoy had blood at the corner of his mouth—from when Harry's head had hit him.
Goyle and Crabbe grinned, wiping nosebleeds from their faces.
"I've never seen such behavior!" Madam Hooch was trembling with anger. "Back to the castle—go straight to your Head of House's office!"
The crowd in the stands was seething, looking like they wanted to jump in and fight themselves.
The brawlers were forcefully escorted to the heads' offices.
"Heh~"
Malfoy strutted out in front like a triumphant rooster, chest puffed up, leading Goyle and Crabbe proudly.
Astoria, leaning against her sister, said worriedly, "They won't be in trouble, will they?"
"Haha. Unless Snape's been hit with the Imperius Curse," John said with a light chuckle, "they'll be just fine."
Malfoy certainly hadn't let all that training go to waste—he could take on three Harrys with just his fists and feet.
No one knew what Harry was thinking, trying to fight Malfoy with his fists.
Did he not know how those two worn trails by the Black Lake came to be?
Just as John had predicted, Snape had no intention of punishing the trio. After all, they hadn't thrown the first punch.
And Crabbe and Goyle had gotten smarter too—they hadn't actually hit anyone, just pulled the twins away.
On the other side, not only did Gryffindor lose the match, they also started a fight.
And not only did they fight—but they lost the fight! Pfft~!
Professor McGonagall's face was deathly pale, originally intending to make the three of them reflect on their behavior.
But then Umbridge came strutting over like a shark smelling blood, grinning from ear to ear.
The three Gryffindors were suspended from the team.
At least for as long as Umbridge remained at the school, they wouldn't be playing in any more Quidditch matches.
This left team captain Angelina on the verge of tears.
The team had already been short on strength—now it was cut in half.
She would have to start recruiting new players again.
The morale of the Gryffindor team hit another low.
The three idiots were still regretting not beating Malfoy into a pulp, and Angelina roared, "You almost got turned into pulp by Slytherin!"
Not even looking at themselves—battered black and blue—none of them were easy to deal with!
"I'm going to bed," Angelina slowly stood up, her face blank and her voice hollow. "Maybe this is all just a dream. Maybe I'll wake up and still feel touched."
"Angelina, wake up. You don't have a pale yellow long dress or fluffy hair," Ginny muttered under her breath.
Clearly, she also felt that Angelina, as team captain, had it too rough.
Alicia and Katie, the two Chasers, were also frightened by their captain's current mental state. They hurried after her to comfort her.
Hermione hadn't seen Ron return and asked, "Have you guys seen Ron?"
Harry shook his head. He'd been taken to the Head of House's office.
"I think he's avoiding us," Hermione said worriedly. "Where do you think he might be?"
Just then, there was a sound at the portrait hole.
Ron came in through it, his face deathly pale, with snowflakes still clinging to his hair.
When he saw Harry and Hermione, he looked like he wanted nothing more than to disappear.
"Where did you go?" Hermione's anxious voice was full of concern.
"...Just ...walking." Ron was so shaken that he looked completely dazed.
"Come sit down!" Hermione said more firmly. "You look like you're frozen stiff."
Ron walked over to the fireplace and collapsed onto the sofa like a salted fish that had lost all hope.
"I'm sorry. It was all my fault—I was terrible." Ron stared at his toes, not daring to look at his best friend.
Because of his paper-thin defense, they'd lost the match.
"I thought I could play Quidditch," Ron said. "I was planning to quit the team first thing tomorrow morning."
Harry snapped, "If you quit, there'll only be three people left on the whole team."
Ron was stunned. He hadn't heard what had happened after he left.
Hermione filled him in, leaving Ron completely dumbfounded.
Just then, Neville came through the portrait hole. Seeing Harry and Ron looking so down, he opened his mouth, hesitated, then forced out a consolation:
"Losing to Draco isn't that embarrassing. He's actually pretty good at fighting. Last time, it took him more than ten minutes to beat me."
Harry: "..."
Thanks. Now I know I got wrecked by someone you consider a random scrub.
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