Tonks was overjoyed when she heard Ludo Bagman's energetic shout echo across the pitch, his booming voice announcing the latest highlight with glee. The cheers of the crowd surged with renewed energy, and Tonks felt like she could fly through the sky without a broom.
Gripping the Quaffle tightly, she soared toward the national team's goal, her vibrant pink hair fluttering in the wind. Her sharp eyes locked onto the opposing Keeper, who guarded the hoops with a seasoned calmness.
A mischievous smirk crept across Tonks' face.
"Guess which goal I'm going to hit?" she taunted playfully, releasing her broom handle for a moment and toying with the Quaffle, slicing it back and forth in her hands like a skilled duelist.
The Keeper remained unfazed, his expression stern and unreadable—he had faced too many matches to be rattled by tricks. But what he didn't anticipate was Tonks suddenly balling her right fist and feinting a savage punch directly toward him.
"Hmph, Transylvanian feint," the Keeper muttered, recognizing the move instantly. He stood his ground without flinching.
Up in the commentary booth, Ludo eagerly explained to the crowd, "The Transylvanian feint is a bluff move! You fake a punch to the opponent's nose—perfectly legal, as long as it doesn't connect!"
The younger students nodded, recognizing the names of advanced techniques like the eagle-head formation and sloth grip roll. These were world-class maneuvers, and seeing them live sent waves of awe through the stands.
Even the school governors were on their feet, thrilled by the match's intensity.
In the VIP section, Mrs. Malfoy covered her mouth in shock—Tonks was still her blood relative, after all.
The Keeper sneered in disdain. "Do you really think that'll work on me?"
But then—"What?!"
His face contorted in surprise as Tonks twisted midair and flung the Quaffle instead of throwing a punch.
Whoosh!
The ball screamed through the air—fast, accurate, and delivered at an impossible angle.
The Keeper instinctively recoiled. The Quaffle barely missed his scalp, grazing past him and slamming into the goal hoop with force.
TOOOT!
Referee Petrescu's silver whistle rang sharply through the stadium. A goal!
"The Quaffle's in!" Ludo bellowed. "Before Moriarty even got the Snitch, Tonks has scored! The Dream Team draws first blood—10-0!"
The crowd erupted in a frenzy. Silver flags waved, magical fireworks popped, and enchanted trinkets bearing the Slytherin and Hogwarts crests danced in the air.
"The Dream Team scores against the national team! Merlin's broomstick, that was brilliant! And just in time—Moriarty is already closing in on the Snitch! Could this goal secure their shutout victory?"
Tonks laughed heartily, basking in the moment. "Shining forever! Shine forever! Shine forever!"
Students began celebrating in the stands. Gryffindor upper-years cracked open bottles of butterbeer. Professors smiled warmly. Even the usually aloof school governors were visibly stunned.
Above them, a massive Slytherin flag unfurled magically and waved in the wind. None of the governors dared object.
But not all was cheerful.
Roman, captain of the national team, looked utterly devastated. His grip on the broomstick was limp, his body floating as if paralyzed, eyes staring at nothing.
Suddenly, Jericho's voice rang out in alarm.
"He's gone! The magician's gone! Sir—watch out!"
The words sliced through the celebration like a knife.
Everyone turned in shock. The magician Jericho had been tracking had vanished from his position.
And then—appeared beside Moriarty.
Gasps rippled through the stadium as the magician leaned in toward Moriarty, lips moving with sinister intent: "Come on, come on…"
Moriarty's heartbeat staggered. Something clawed into his mind. The words echoed again, but now in an ancient, booming voice:
"Come on, my heir… We are waiting for you… Ready to soar… To bring the twilight upon the stars…"
"We knew your name. We knew your face."
"The symphony of life we play never ceases. The fires we kindle burn eternal."
"The past merges with the present. Let go. Be free. Unchain your soul."
"Come on, my heir…"
The message looped again and again, like an incantation burrowing into his brain.
His mind fogged. His body grew heavy.
Until—
Ding!
< System Alert: Detection of Class-75 Brainwashing Chant. Host awarded 20 Achievement Draws! >
Moriarty snapped awake.
Wait—what?! The system just handed out a reward instead of saving me?
And Class-75 Great Magister? That kind of power was legendary.
Moriarty's grey eyes locked onto the magician.
Who are you?
The magician flinched under Moriarty's gaze. His eyes widened in panic. The spell didn't work! Moriarty had resisted it!
How?! The magician thought frantically. The boss's chant has hidden me from ministries across continents—why didn't it work on this boy?
But before he could process, Moriarty's aura erupted. His killing intent surged, crackling through the air like lightning.
The magician turned and fled upward.
Moriarty's glare burned like frost. He tried to hex me mid-game? He's dead.
In those tense seconds of silent battle, the Golden Snitch darted away again, vanishing into the clouds.
Gripping his broom tightly, Moriarty yanked it like a warhorse's reins and flew toward the opposite end of the pitch—where Charlie hovered.
In the commentator's box, Ludo scratched his head. "What in Merlin's name just happened? Moriarty was about to grab the Snitch, and then the magician appeared. They exchanged a look—what was that? Some secret signal?"
"I'll tell you what it was!" Jericho yelled from the stands. "That magician hexed our Seeker!"
Leon was already shouting with fury. "He cheated! If not for that, Mr. would've already ended the match!"
Marcus and Charlie swooped down furiously as well.
From the national team, the beater with the explosive hair flew over and shielded the magician.
Red Nose stepped in with a sneer. "And you're saying Moriarty's Tornado Spin wasn't magic? Please."
"Return to formation!" Referee Petrescu barked. "Both teams—return!"
He waved his wand in a circular motion, calming the chaos. "Earlier, the national team claimed Moriarty used magic. Now the Dream Team claims the magician used it."
"I will investigate both claims. But currently, I detect no traces of active magic from either player. The game continues!"
"The game continues," Moriarty affirmed. "Keep the momentum. Score first—raise the chances. Let's keep them from scoring a single point."
"Let's go!" the three Chasers shouted in unison.
From behind, Moriarty raised a fist toward Charlie and Marcus and shook it twice in the air.
Charlie grinned wildly. "He's telling us to handle their second Chaser."
Marcus cracked his knuckles. "The magician."
"Time for a show," Charlie said with a gleam in his eye. "Let's show them what practice has made us."
He launched a Bludger into the air, and together with Marcus, swung his bat. Both bats struck the same Bludger.
BOOM!
The Bludger screamed toward the magician like a missile.
"Double strike!" Ludo bellowed. "A synchronized Bludger hit from both Beaters—devastating impact! You almost never see this outside of professional twins!"
Charlie flicked his wild hair and grinned. "Think that's all? Just wait."
He backhanded his bat, sending another Bludger spiraling with unpredictable movement.
"Unbelievable! A Counter-Combo Bludger! The Dream Team just keeps on surprising us!" Ludo was on his feet again.
At first, he had favored the Dream Team because of Moriarty. But now, as he watched these young players—Tonks, Charlie, Marcus, Jericho, and Moriarty—he found himself hoping for their triumph.
They've earned it.