As the days passed, the weather turned very cold. The mountains around the school were gray and covered in ice and snow, and the lake was as cold and hard as steel. Every morning, there was frost on the ground.
Malfoy, sitting at the table, couldn't help but yawn. He had stayed up late reading the previous night because he thought today was the Quidditch game and the school was not on holiday. However, he was unexpectedly pulled out of bed by Pansy that morning.
"First of all, why can girls just go into the men's dormitory? And second, why is everyone so enthusiastic about this game?" Malfoy, with two huge dark circles under his eyes, mechanically stuffed bread into his mouth as he spoke. He couldn't help but feel annoyed.
"Today is the most important day. If we lose, Gryffindor will really catch up to us," Pansy explained, analyzing the situation of the Quidditch game and its impact on the Academy Cup.
"In any case, Dumbledore will give the House Cup to the Gryffindor College this year just to give Harry a reputation," Malfoy knew, but he wouldn't say it aloud.
"Besides, there are some people on the Gryffindor team who seem to have a special aura around them, and their seeker - the Golden Thief - is especially skilled. It'll be difficult for us to win against them. However, I've heard that the Gryffindor captain has some secret weapon up their sleeve. I'm not sure what it is, though." Pansy spread jam on two pieces of bread as she spoke.
"You know, when it comes to cheating, people usually think of our House first," Malfoy said with a hint of amusement. "Slytherin has a reputation for using underhanded tactics during Quidditch matches, but I assure you we have plenty of legitimate moves as well."
"I don't doubt it," Pansy replied with a knowing look. "We just need to put a stop to Gryffindor's arrogance. Make them pay for thinking they're better than us."
"I have no interest in participating in such petty games," Malfoy said dismissively. "If you try to drag me to the match, I won't go."
"Why aren't you interested?" Pansy seemed to have noticed the inconsistency in Malfoy's words. "Is it because you know you're powerful?"
"Don't talk while you're eating," Malfoy said, placing a piece of bread in Pansy's mouth. Pansy let out a muffled whine and glared at Malfoy.
"Do you want to kill me?" Pansy struggled to swallow the large piece of bread and took a big sip of honey tea.
"Your participation in these activities is like a death sentence for me. You know that..."
"Time is money," Pansy said cryptically.
"Don't bother me with your threats of murder. You're willing to go one minute and not the next."
"I'm willing to go anywhere," Malfoy said, waving his hand dismissively.
"It's time to gather information for the Dark Lord," Malfoy tried to convince himself that today's activities were meaningful.
"It's all the same to me," Pansy said, raising their head in a triumphant manner.
By eleven o'clock, it seemed that the entire school had gathered around the Quidditch Stadium. Many students had brought binoculars to get a better view of the game. Despite arriving early and securing front row seats, it was still difficult to see the action on the field.
"Oops," Pansy said, slapping her forehead.
"I forgot to bring my telescope." She looked at Malfoy, hoping he had a solution.
"Don't look at me. I could try using a flying charm, but it might not work," Malfoy joked.
"Besides, it's too far from our bedroom and the flying charm is limited in distance. Even Dumbledore might have trouble pulling it off."
"Well, I can't see clearly from here anyways," Malfoy said with a shrug. "Maybe if I stand on something?"
"Close your eyes," Malfoy said softly, trying to satisfy Pansy's wishes.
Pansy obediently closed her eyes.
"It's not arrogant at all to ask for help," Malfoy chuckled.
"The sky is the limit!" Malfoy whispered the spell softly.
As a wizard who values self-improvement, being able to create or improve magic spells can be seen as a benchmark for success in the magical world. In a way, it is only after achieving this that one can truly be considered a proficient magician.
While Professor Lockhart, who will be teaching next year, may not be particularly skilled, his improved version of the "one-forget-all" spell has gained recognition in the magic community.
"Innovation is the driving force of progress," Malfoy thought to himself.
"I never thought my first self-made curse would be used in a situation like this," Malfoy couldn't help but feel both amused and frustrated.
It is human nature to be bold and aggressive, and Malfoy had always dreamed of creating a deadly spell like "Avada Cavdra," but it seems his efforts have been in vain.
"At least I've made some useful auxiliary spells," Malfoy tried to console himself.
"I can always keep trying."
"Now I finally understand why you spent the whole day in the library," Pansy said, looking at the center of the stadium.
She seemed to be able to hear the captain's instructions to the Slytherin players, and she noticed every small movement made by the Slytherin team. She even saw the saliva that flew out of Flint's mouth as he spoke.
"Disgusting," Pansy commented. "I really want to know what they're saying."
"I'm sorry, I can't help you with that," Malfoy said helplessly.
"You're really useless," Pansy pouted.
"Hey, are you a cheerleader or something?"
"Be quiet, the game is about to start."
"As expected, female fans are unreasonable no matter what world you're in," Malfoy said with a hint of frustration.
The game was about to begin. Madam Hooch stood in the center of the field, holding her flying broom, as she waited for the players from both teams to take their positions.
The stands surrounding the stadium were packed with people, some waving banners and small flags. Some were quietly focused on the players from both teams, looking through telescopes, while others were distracted, like Malfoy. He looked around when everyone else was focused on the game.
"Professor Snape, even though your beloved has passed, you still act as a nanny to her son," Malfoy saw Snape, who still had a cold expression but kept glancing at Harry.
His gaze moved again, and he spotted Professor Quirrell, who was wearing a headscarf.
"This is what it means to be truly lucky,"
Malfoy sighed. "You get to meet the Dark Lord in the wild. But the BOSS only sees you as expendable."
Scanning the highest row once more, he saw Ron and Hermione sitting together, with Simon ville and others next to them.
They were holding a banner made of a bed sheet that read "Porter Must Victory," with a lion symbolizing Gryffindor drawn beneath it.
Hermione was softly chanting to make the paint on the banner flash different colors.
The players from both teams moved towards the center of the field, and Madam Hooch raised her voice:
"Listen up, I expect everyone to play fairly and honestly." She gave a pointed look at the captain of the Slytherin team as she spoke, clearly giving him a warning.
"Mount your brooms, please."
The players from both teams mounted their brooms.
Madam Hooch blew her silver whistle, signaling the start of the game.
The fifteen players lifted off into the sky on their brooms. The game had begun.
Equipment crushing, how are they playing this?" Malfoy had good eyesight and could see the situation on the field without using magic. However, he couldn't help shaking his head at the speed of the players as they took off.
"No wonder the team is looking for sponsors next year. The gap is too big." He saw Harry racing into the sky on his broom, with the Slytherin and Gryffindor players clearly trailing behind him.
Malfoy found the subsequent games to be boring, as the existence of the Golden Snitch made the gameplay too unpredictable.
A game that hinged on one person's performance was not worth watching in his opinion.
"If only someone would go up and catch the ghost ball, earning two or three hundred points and breaking this rule," Malfoy thought with malice.
"Gryffindor's goalkeeper, Wood, made a great move and blocked the ball. Now it's Gryffindor's turn to have possession – it's Gryffindor's chaser, Katie Bell, who has the ball on the field. She's dodging around Flint – oops, that must have hurt," Lee Jordan's voice boomed over the field.
Malfoy was disappointed by the professionalism of the event. How could there be such obvious bias towards the two teams?
Gryffindor was always depicted as perfect as soon as they had possession, while Slytherin was overlooked.
It reminded Malfoy of a phrase from his past life: "Long live Italy." The narrator who spoke this phrase was also criticized.
The game continued, with Flint committing a foul by shoving Harry and giving Gryffindor a free kick. However, it seemed they were unable to take advantage of this opportunity.
Harry seemed to be having problems with his broom at this point. He couldn't control it at all and it was turning erratically in the air, shaking violently and almost causing him to fall off.
"Ron, look, Harry's broom seems to be acting strange," Hermione said, as if she had noticed something off about Harry's broom.
Harry's broom twitched and twisted frantically, slowly but surely moving him further away from the field.
"Harry's talent is just as strong as his dad's, don't worry," Hagrid muttered. He had arrived a little late because of his collection of magical creatures.
"This must be a Gryffindor strategy, you know. Impossible!" Hagrid yelled suddenly.
Everyone in the stands was pointing up at Harry at that moment. His broomstick was tossing and rolling, and Harry could barely hold on to it.
Suddenly, the broomstick whirled again, and Harry was thrown off. He now grasped the broomstick with only one hand, hanging in the air.
"Could something be wrong with the broomstick, after Flint hit it earlier?" Simon whispered.
"That's the latest Lightening Bolt 2000," Ron's voice shook.
"It must be black magic," Hermione said, inferring that someone had cast a spell on Harry's broom.
She took out a telescope and scanned the crowd, searching for the perpetrator.
Soon, she seemed to find her target and quickly left the small group of Gryffindor's
"Looks like the little girl is on the move," Malfoy watched as Hermione made her way through the crowd and approached Snape's stand.
"Too bad she's going to the wrong person," Malfoy chuckled, sitting back to watch the show.
"I'm more worried about Quirrell IQ," Malfoy glanced at Quirrell, who was interrupted by Hermione, and couldn't help but laugh.
How bold did he have to be to try to harm Harry in front of everyone? Dumbledore was no pushover, and even without Hermione, it would have been impossible for Old man to let Harry suffer an accident.
The effect of the dark spell dissipated, and Harry's broom returned to normal.
Suddenly, there was a wave of cheers from the stands as people stood up and clapped.
Harry spit out the Golden Snitch and waved his broom, shouting "I caught the snitch!"
Lee Jordan announced the final score of the game, 170 points to 60, with Gryffindor winning.
"Damn it," Pansy said bitterly.
"So you're the one who's been pinching my leg, Missy," Malfoy said, feeling a tingling sensation in his thigh.
Pansy had been pinching him fiercely, as if venting her frustration. It didn't matter to her who she was pinching.
"I'm never sitting with female fans again," Malfoy thought to himself.
"Mr. Snape, who burned his robe for two seconds, finally mourned for two seconds," Malfoy said with a sly glance at the professor, who had been severely pitied by Hermione.
"Let's go," Pansy said, standing up vigorously. However, as she took a step back, she was thrown back into her chair.
"The horizon is still the same as before!" Malfoy couldn't help but smile.
Pansy, who hadn't dispelled the spell, apparently couldn't notice her feet.
"Come on, get up," Malfoy said, reaching out to help Pansy stand up and lead her away. But she seemed to be lost in thought, with her head down.
"They only won by chance today, right?" Pansy said, turning to look at Malfoy.
"Definitely a fluke," Malfoy agreed.
"We'll definitely win next year, right?" Pansy asked.
"Of course," Malfoy reassured her.
"You'll help us get revenge, right?"
"Yes, yes, I will," Malfoy said, feeling like he was being cornered.
"Great, I feel much better now," Pansy's face suddenly broke into a smile, like a ray of sunshine breaking through a cloud of rain.
"Let's go," Pansy said happily, seemingly unaffected by the loss of the game.
Malfoy: "...."