Hovering in midair, Loren heard Professor McGonagall's furious roar and Lee Jordan's commentary. He leaned on his broom, flew over to Madam Hooch, and asked, "In a situation like this, shouldn't he be sent off?"
Madam Hooch gave Loren a puzzled look. She wasn't sure why a Quidditch player would ask that, but she still explained calmly, "In Quidditch, players aren't sent off."
The penalty ended soon; Gryffindor scored. The Quaffle went back to Slytherin. Marcus Flint, looking like he'd stepped out of a famous painting, started organizing another attack—while Loren had already been waiting by a Bludger for some time.
The moment Marcus Flint took the ball, Loren struck the Bludger hard. It grazed past Flint's calf; the instant it flew by, Flint's leg suddenly twisted. It was obvious the bone had snapped. His hands, jolted by the sudden pain, loosened on the Quaffle and it tumbled away, to be picked up by another Slytherin Chaser.
After streaking past Marcus Flint, the Bludger kept flying toward the Slytherin goal. Loren's true target was Slytherin's Keeper—Marcus was collateral.
A Slytherin Chaser had blocked the Keeper's view; by the time the Bludger appeared in front of the Keeper, he had no time to react and was smashed into the goalpost.
Madam Hooch blew the whistle to pause the match and dropped to the pitch. After checking the Keeper and finding him unconscious, she raised her wand, levitated him, and sent him toward Madam Pomfrey.
Pale-faced Marcus Flint flew up to Madam Hooch and showed her his injured leg.
Only then did Madam Hooch realize his calf bone was broken. She had clearly seen that the Bludger never touched Marcus, but she still signaled for Madam Pomfrey's help.
Marcus began loudly accusing others.
Up in the stands, Lee Jordan immediately caught on and barked, "Slytherin have completely lost their bottom line—deliberate fouls to injure the opposition on the pitch!"
He glanced sideways and saw Professor McGonagall glaring daggers at Marcus Flint. Only after reining in his language did he continue, "And now they're resorting to self-injury to trick the referee and the crowd? Must be their brand-new tactic. I dare say it's ahead of anything the pros have come up with!"
Lee's commentary had nearly everyone roaring with laughter. Only the little snakes from Slytherin didn't jeer; they just looked at Marcus Flint with a kind of admiration, as if he were a real tough customer. Even Slytherin's other players stared at him in awe; Marcus himself was the only one who didn't realize what was going on and kept pelting Madam Hooch with protests.
Finally fed up, Madam Hooch cut him off, pointed at the giant canvas screen above the stands, and said sternly, "Drop the act. Watch closely—the Bludger never hit you."
Wearing a pained expression, Marcus turned to the huge screen behind the stands. It was replaying the scene again and again: Loren struck the Bludger, and it never touched Marcus Flint anywhere. It simply shot past his side and smashed into the Keeper behind.
The replay even used a close-up slow-motion shot as the Bludger passed Marcus, making it clear that when the Bludger was still several centimeters from his calf, his lower leg had already started to bend and deform as if struck.
Everyone now believed Loren bore no responsibility for Marcus's injury; Marcus must have used some method to fake it, angling for a penalty shot. If not for that bizarre canvas replay, he might have fooled the entire stadium with his superb acting.
Watching Marcus Flint, hastily treated by Madam Pomfrey and already flying back with his leg strapped up, Loren couldn't help sighing at how efficient the wizarding world was at treating injuries. A fracture like that would have taken months to heal in his previous life, but here…
Madam Hooch's whistle restarted the paused match.
This time, Marcus was much more well-behaved. He kept darting glances around, always checking where Loren was.
Loren was satisfied with Marcus's new caution. No wonder—he had broken the man's leg on purpose as a lesson.
Yes, Loren had broken Marcus Flint's calf. Although the Bludger had never touched him, don't forget Loren's rule-type skill—Attack Range Increase (Beginner). Once activated, it extends Loren's attack range; after he strikes a Bludger, his "attack" remains attached to it until the Bludger is stopped.
Marcus still wasn't ramming people anymore, but he kept tucking the Quaffle in and bull-rushing, using his bulk to smash through like he was playing American football. Loren figured he had a responsibility to improve the man's playstyle. Quidditch is about flying displays, not full-body tackles.
So Loren drifted to a Bludger and gave it a mighty whack. It arrowed straight toward Marcus Flint.
Marcus had been tracking Loren behind him and was hyper-alert to every sound. He spotted the swing instantly. But Loren had put almost everything into that hit; the Bludger was blisteringly fast. Marcus only had time to duck his head on reflex before it screamed over his scalp.
As it passed, Marcus froze in fright—he clutched the Quaffle to his chest with one hand while the other frantically patted his head to check for injuries.
Just as Marcus was feeling relieved, a thunderous boom rolled across the pitch. Gryffindor's left goalpost had been blasted by Loren's Bludger. It snapped cleanly in the middle; the hoop toppled and thumped to the turf.
Oliver Wood hovered beside his goal, cold sweat beading at the sight. It was obvious this was Loren's payback for his earlier loose talk.
The crash also left Marcus badly shaken. Thank Merlin he'd ducked—otherwise that thing might have taken his head clean off.
Loren's true target had been his own goal; scaring Marcus was just a bonus. In Loren's mind, if I knock out our hoop, the other team can't score there.
The broken post left everyone on the grounds gaping. In all the long history of Quidditch, no one had ever seen a goalpost smashed in two. People weren't even sure whether Loren had done it on purpose or by accident—either way…
The pitch fell silent for a heartbeat, then erupted in cheers, especially from the little lions of Gryffindor, who shouted the nickname they'd given Loren.
Gryffindor's Chasers took advantage of Slytherin's stunned pause to whip the Quaffle through the undefended Slytherin hoops for a quick score.
Only after Gryffindor had scored did Madam Hooch react. She whistled for another pause, then flew over to the broken post to inspect it. Drawing her wand, she began repairs; in short order the goalpost was good as new. The effort had clearly cost her, though—when she blew the whistle again to resume play, it didn't sound as bright as before.
With Gryffindor's goal on the board, Slytherin adjusted. Under captain Marcus Flint's orders, their remaining Beater, Peregrine Derrick, tried to bat a Bludger off the pitch.
As Derrick swooped toward a Bludger to knock it away, Fred Weasley darted into his blind spot and cracked the Bludger with a savage swing.
Caught flat-footed, Derrick took the Bludger full in the face and reeled on his broom.
Fred pressed the advantage, smashing the rebounding Bludger again. This time it hammered into Derrick's throat, cutting off his wind, and he dropped straight off his broom.
Loren streaked in, loudly scolding Fred even as he flattened his broom for a catch.
He dove too fast; only by straining with everything he had did he keep the broom under control, skimming the turf for a long stretch before sliding to a stop right in front of Madam Pomfrey.
After confirming that Derrick was unconscious and wouldn't wake for a while, Loren handed him straight to Madam Pomfrey and shot back into the air to rejoin the match.
Madam Pomfrey stared at the long furrow Derrick's head had carved through the grass. She opened her mouth to say something to Loren, but he was already high above, and there was no way he could hear her.
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