The Slytherin Quidditch players' madness terrified every first-year in the stands.
These lunatics didn't have Shield Charms protecting them.
Heart-wrenching screams echoed constantly.
Only halfway through the match, the silver and green Quidditch robes were already stained mottled red-brown.
"They're... insane?"
"This is just a game..."
The Gryffindor first-years who'd been clamoring to join the Quidditch team and kick Slytherin's ass now sat pale and silent.
"No. To those fanatics, this isn't a game. It's honor and victory. Anyone who stands in their way is a mortal enemy. The kind you fight to the death," Percy said with a sigh. The other older Gryffindors looked equally thoughtful.
Once upon a time, Slytherins were just snakes cowering in corners.
Cunning, sinister, ugly.
Whenever they mentioned them, contempt and disdain always flickered in their eyes.
So what if Slytherin won the House Cup? Nobody would acknowledge their glory and greatness.
But somehow, these scheming villains had become something unbelievable.
Obsessive, vicious, mad.
Whether fighting in the castle corridors or tearing at each other in midair above the pitch, they'd become more hateful, yet they shook every Gryffindor's heart.
They had to reassess... no, truly see these Slytherins.
They had to admit these snakes had admirable courage, dedication they couldn't match, and willpower they couldn't ignore.
"They don't have Shield Charms..."
"Yeah, they're incredible."
"How do they endure it?"
"That Keeper's leg is broken."
Watching the figures streak through the air, many little lions showed shock and longing.
They somehow felt this was what real men were like. This was real fighting...
"Ah, damn it! Mummy, my head hurts..."
Draco sat on his broom, clutching his forehead.
His thin frame swayed. His Beater's bat had fallen somewhere.
Bright red blood seeped through his fingers from his temple, mixing with sweat to blur his vision, tinting everything crimson.
"Draco! Are you okay!"
"Can you hold on!!!"
His teammates' roars gradually became distant noise, fading in and out.
Tears gathered in his eyes but refused to fall. Inexplicable grievance and helplessness filled his heart.
He'd lived under his parents' protection his whole life. Never been seriously hurt before.
George Weasley's Bludger made him truly feel what real pain was.
Right now, he desperately wanted to nestle in his mother Narcissa's arms.
But even so, he gritted his teeth. Not a single groan escaped.
He knew he couldn't hold on much longer.
But before that...
His dazed but vicious gaze swept around. His messy platinum hair was stained with blood.
"Mummy said... I'm wonderful... I'm already a man..."
"Daddy said... I'm a Malfoy... he's proud of me..."
"I am... a Malfoy..."
"Malfoys... never give up!"
Under Marcus's shocked gaze, the nearly unconscious platinum prince suddenly pressed down on his broom, diving to chase George Weasley.
"Weasley! You can't escape! Come on! Let's see hell together!"
A shrill roar whistled past. Realizing Malfoy was chasing him, George had to abandon protecting Harry, turning to lead him away.
With their full team equipped with Nimbus 2001s, Slytherin dominated in speed.
In just breaths, Draco caught up.
A Bludger flew across their path.
"Kid, you're still too green..." George's lips curved. He stopped suddenly and spun, using his broom tail to hit the ball toward Draco.
The Bludger shot forward.
Everyone thought Draco would be knocked off his broom.
Instead, he swung his arm and smashed into the Bludger. Bones cracked.
Under George's horrified gaze, the blood-covered platinum boy charged straight at him.
His lips seemed to cry and laugh at once, mixing pain with savagery, yet strangely resolute and mad.
With a heart-stopping thud, they collided in midair, then spun down together, kicking up dust.
"Draco!!!"
Blaise and the others shot to their feet.
Pansy and Daphne covered their mouths, tears filling their eyes.
Nobody knew Draco better. How had this spoiled boy endured the pain!
"Go! Quick, check on him!"
Theodore's face was dark as he looked at Tiamat.
Before Tiamat could react, Theodore was already running down.
"Ugh... damn Malfoy... are you trying to get yourself killed..."
George barely managed to stand, leaning on his broom and swaying. Intense dizziness made sweat bead on his forehead.
"You crazy..."
As his vision cleared, the blood-covered Draco came into view.
George, who'd been about to curse more, suddenly looked complicated.
"Fine. You win, Malfoy. This round goes to you, you damn little bastard."
When Madam Hooch questioned him, George waved her off and stumbled toward the broom shed, muttering, "I wish little Ronnie could be like you."
Just then, several Scarab Beetles flew to Draco. Theodore and the others ran over.
When they saw Draco's twisted arm and the shocking blood stains, Daphne burst into tears. Pansy's eyes reddened as she cursed.
"Aren't you supposed to be afraid of pain! Idiot!"
She could imagine how wronged he felt.
Fortunately, with the Scarab Beetles' power, Draco's pale face quickly regained color. The bulges under his skin restored the shattered bones in his arm...
In the noisy stands, a figure in a black silk hooded cloak stood apart from the crowd.
His thin lips pressed into a tight line. The platinum hair visible outside his hood trembled.
"He... he... how dare he!!! Who told them to play like this!!!"
Deep, cold pupils overflowed with fury. His gaze toward Draco held indescribable heartache.
"Damn Dumbledore! You don't deserve to be headmaster! Is this still a Quidditch match?!"
In Lucius Malfoy's eyes, this was simply Slytherin's fancy suicide performance.
As Draco gradually regained consciousness and began wailing in Blaise's arms, his father's heart shattered completely.
Screw honor! Screw the match!
He needed to talk to Dumbledore right now!
He was transferring Draco to another school!
He'd spent big money sponsoring Slytherin's brooms, not so his son could get his bones broken by Bludgers!!!
Damn old bastard!!!
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