In the eyes of Muggles, this would be akin to a showdown between two top-tier sports cars, their engines roaring to life. The moment their gazes locked, Harry and Malfoy, mounted on their brooms high above the Quidditch pitch, resembled two arrows—one red and one green—launched into the fray. Without a moment's hesitation, Harry leaned into his Firebolt, propelling it forward with all the speed it could muster. Their singular focus was the Golden Snitch. The score stood at 30 to 80 in Slytherin's favor. Despite Wood's near-heroic goalkeeping and the Gryffindor team's rigorous training, Slytherin had emerged as a formidable opponent, reborn and relentless in their pursuit of victory.
Derek, a Slytherin Beater, took precise aim at a Bludger and sent it hurtling towards Harry. Skillfully, Harry maneuvered his broom, dodging the Bludger while keeping an eye on Malfoy, who was hot on his trail. The Snitch was the key to turning the game around; capturing it would secure a win for Gryffindor. Wood, in his final year, was passionate about Quidditch, and Harry was determined not to let him leave without lifting the trophy.
With this resolve, Harry pushed his Firebolt to its limits, weaving through the air with agility that made controlling such speed seem effortless. The Snitch led them on a chase through the Gryffindor stands, and Harry executed a sharp pull-up to maintain his blistering pace.
"I have to catch it soon," he thought, eyes locked on the elusive Golden Snitch. Suddenly, he felt a jarring impact. Anger flashed across his face, ready to accuse Malfoy of foul play, but he realized Malfoy hadn't even glanced his way. Malfoy's eyes were fixed solely on the Snitch, his hair streaming behind him, unheeded in his single-minded chase.
Both riders, pushing their brooms to the brink, left streaks of color in their wake as they dove beneath the stands. The wooden beams became a labyrinth of obstacles, but Harry's innate flying talent shone brightly. He dodged each potential collision with reflexes that bordered on supernatural.
Sweat beaded on Malfoy's forehead, too focused to wipe it away, the droplets slowly edging towards his eyes under the force of the wind. The spectators, unable to see the players clearly, could only watch the fabric of the stands flutter violently as the two passed by, a mere half-length apart.
Harry felt himself slowing and his frustration surged, suspecting Malfoy of some trickery. But then, the Snitch reappeared, gleaming brightly. It wasn't that he was slowing; Malfoy was simply accelerating, pushing the limits on this perilous course.
Refusing to be outpaced, Harry accelerated as well. The two of them, rather than slowing, were now speeding through the stands at an even greater velocity. The Snitch burst into the open, with only their blurred afterimages trailing behind.
Marcus Flint, watching from the sidelines, remembered the grueling training sessions. Malfoy had transformed, driven by an insatiable hunger for victory. Even when exhaustion set in and complaints filled the air, Malfoy persevered, taking on the mantle of captain and inspiring his team to push beyond their limits.
"How can he lose?" Flint thought, his eyes blazing with determination. He rarely vocalized his encouragement during games, often resorting to cunning strategies instead. But this time, he bellowed, "We're Slytherins!!!"
His voice ignited a fire within the team. "Noble Slytherin, defend the honor to the death!" they roared back, their voices filled with a bravery that shattered the typical image of Slytherin cunning and deceit.
Caught off guard, Katie Bell watched as Montague seized the Quaffle and scored, the Slytherin stands erupting in cheers. The game had transformed into a testament of skill, determination, and the unyielding spirit of both houses. John witnessed the scene unfold on the Quidditch pitch, his voice resonating with conviction as he spoke, "We were born in the mire, yearning for power, filled with ambition. We are strong, composed, and carry ourselves with grace. We live without regrets. We are Slytherins." His words echoed across the field, silencing the restless stands. He continued, "We pursue glory, defend it, witness it, and embody it. We... are the glory." At that moment, every Slytherin's eyes blazed with fanaticism, their fists clenched as if they were kings witnessing their own coronation. It started with one voice, but soon every Slytherin joined in a unified chant. "Glory! Glory! Glory!" The fervor was palpable, their singular cry of "glory" drowning out the noise from the other houses, enveloping the Quidditch pitch in a wave of green pride that transformed into a formidable force. Each Slytherin seemed to draw infinite strength, and the Slytherin team's performance intensified. The scoreboard's numbers began to climb rapidly, causing Wood to grow anxious, his attention torn away from Harry's plight.
The chant of "glory" invigorated the Slytherin team, their determination unwavering even in the face of physical pain. Warrington, despite being struck in the nose by a Bludger, remained silent, his focus unbroken. They were like zealots, with "glory" as their creed. Malfoy, in pursuit of the Snitch, was reminded of his rigorous training. What was it all for? Glory. With renewed purpose, he accelerated, the Golden Snitch diving towards the ground. Malfoy followed without hesitation, Harry at his side, both plummeting towards the earth. The crowd held its breath, Hermione and Ron standing, eyes fixed on the scene, Ron muttering a prayer for Harry's success.
Unlike before, Malfoy was determined not to give up. "Come here!" he roared, both he and Harry reaching for the Snitch simultaneously. They crashed to the ground, rolling to a stop in a "V" shape. The crowd rose to its feet in anticipation, Ron and Hermione anxious for the outcome. Harry, recovering from the fall, clenched his fist and then, with a smile, triumphantly raised his hand, revealing the Snitch. "I caught it!" Gryffindor's cheers filled the air, only to be silenced by the announcement of Slytherin's victory, the score revealing a ten-point difference, a result of Montague's sacrifice.
The Gryffindor stands were stunned, their joy turning to disbelief. Snape's smile contrasted with McGonagall's shock. The dramatic turn of events was unexpected: Harry had caught the Snitch, yet Gryffindor had lost. Malfoy, sitting on the ground, locked eyes with Harry, his expression complex. "You beat me, but you can't beat Slytherin," he conceded, acknowledging the bitter-sweet nature of personal victory versus team success.
In the Slytherin stands, the cheers were overwhelming, the team celebrating their hard-fought victory, especially Montague, despite his injury. Malfoy, initially desolate, found himself at the center of his team's jubilation, his earlier despair replaced by a sense of collective achievement. "Yeah, we won," he admitted, a smile spreading across his face as he was lifted by his teammates, their camaraderie and shared glory evident in their celebration. The corners of his mouth twitched upwards uncontrollably, eventually erupting into a wild, unrestrained laugh. "The king of Gryffindor may be Harry Potter, but Slytherin reigns supreme over all four houses. The would-be king has failed to claim his throne, yet Slytherin has safeguarded its glory. We are the embodiment of glory. All hail Slytherin!"
During the award ceremony, presided over by Dumbledore, Slytherin was celebrating its eighth consecutive victory. However, this time, Dumbledore's eyes held a hint of complexity as he observed the scene. His gaze lingered on a young boy who stood up, cheering along with his housemates. This boy had transformed Slytherin from a mere house of ambition into a formidable force, as enduring and magnificent as green glass. He was destined to be the king of Slytherin. His name was John Wick.
Dumbledore's expression was thoughtful as he watched John Wick, recognizing the profound impact he had on Slytherin. It was clear that under Wick's influence, Slytherin had not only defended its honor but had also begun to redefine it. The boy's leadership and prowess had united his house, turning them into a cohesive and powerful entity that commanded respect across Hogwarts.
As the cheers for Slytherin's victory filled the Great Hall, it was evident that a new era was dawning. An era where Slytherin, under John Wick's guidance, would not only be known for its ambition but also for its strength, unity, and undeniable glory. Dumbledore knew then that John Wick was not just a fleeting phenomenon but a pivotal figure who would leave an indelible mark on the history of Hogwarts.
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Direct Link to playlist
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f_Hg-qsW4rM&list=PLKskshYG-OcPTR4-Nw7IWFEBZm07D8pBV&ab_channel=NovelAudioForge