Today's weather is great, but there's one drawback—the wind is fierce. Even sitting in the spectator stands, one can feel the gusts howling through. It's easy to imagine how the two teams about to face off will cope in such intense conditions.
"Mr. Augustus, based on the teams' current forms, who do you think has the better chance of winning?" Lillian twirled a strand of her dark hair around her finger, the silky strands weaving into a knot.
"I'm not much of an expert on Quidditch," Augustus said, stroking his chin. "But if I had to guess, Gryffindor seems to have the edge. After all, speed and agility are key for a Seeker, and with a Firebolt, even someone with average reflexes can significantly outpace their opponent. And Harry's already an exceptional Seeker. So, I'd say Ravenclaw's in for a tough time."
Loki, equally bored, snapped his fingers absentmindedly. For this group, Quidditch wasn't all that thrilling. Except for Malfoy, who showed a slight interest, even Thor wasn't particularly keen. If it weren't for their duties as house prefects, none of them would've bothered attending.
"This time, Gryffindor is doomed. Believe me, even with a Firebolt, Harry will taste defeat today," Malfoy said with malicious glee. "Just one or two Dementors, and I can make him relive the trauma of his last match."
Loki raised an eyebrow at Malfoy. "You've got connections with Dementors? Last time, Lord Augustus intervened, and those creatures fled in terror. Even if Fudge himself came, I doubt they'd dare step back into the school. What did you do to bribe them—offer them the Kiss?"
"No matter," Malfoy said coldly, his gaze fixed on Harry among the Gryffindor team preparing to start. "This time, the name 'Potter' will once again become a joke to the entire school."
"I hope so," Loki said with a shrug. "Though I'm curious where your confidence comes from. Just don't let it backfire."
The whistle blew.
"Mount your brooms… listen for my whistle… Three… Two… One…"
Harry shot into the air, his Firebolt soaring straight up faster and higher than any other broom. He began scanning for the Golden Snitch while listening to the commentary. The commentator, Lee Jordan, was a friend of the Weasley twins.
"They're off! This match is exciting, not least because Gryffindor's Harry Potter is riding the Firebolt. According to Broomstick Basics, the Firebolt is the top choice for this year's World Cup teams—"
"Jordan, can you tell us what's happening in the match?" Professor McGonagall interrupted sharply.
"Right away, Professor. Just providing some context. By the way, the Firebolt features built-in automatic braking and—"
"Jordan!"
"Right, right. The Quaffle is with Gryffindor. Katie Bell heads for the goal—"
Harry zipped past Katie, his eyes scanning for the telltale glint of gold. Behind him, Cho Chang from Ravenclaw was in hot pursuit. She was an excellent flyer, cutting him off repeatedly and forcing him to change direction.
"Show her your speed, Harry!" Fred yelled as he sped past, chasing a Bludger aimed at Alicia Spinnet.
"It seems Ravenclaw's strategy has been entirely disrupted by Gryffindor," Lillian observed, turning to Malfoy. "At this rate, even if your Dementors appear, I doubt they'll change the outcome."
"Gryffindor leads 80–0. Look at that Firebolt go! Potter is really demonstrating its speed. Look at that turn—Cho Chang's Comet can't keep up. And in a long match like this, the Firebolt's precision balance—"
"Jordan! Is Firebolt paying you for advertising? Focus on the match!"
"Even with this score gap, if Cho catches the Snitch, Gryffindor will lose," Malfoy muttered darkly, his eyes fixed on Harry. "Potter's dramatic fall from the sky is about to become a reality. Just wait and see."
Standing, he motioned to Crabbe and Goyle, and the three silently left the stands.
Loki snapped his fingers and turned to Augustus. "Lord Augustus, are you sure it's fine to let Malfoy act on his own? If it's discovered that he's colluding with Dementors, it might tarnish Slytherin's reputation."
"You're right," Lillian added thoughtfully. "Everyone knows it was you who drove the Dementors away last time, Lord Augustus. If Malfoy's actions are uncovered, people might suspect we staged the entire thing."
"Malfoy wouldn't summon Dementors to interfere," Augustus said calmly. "If he did, even the students of Slytherin wouldn't tolerate it. This is probably just a prank. Besides, I doubt Dementors would dare return. My last spell didn't just inflict damage—it left an indelible mark of fear. No amount of coercion could bring them back here."
Satisfied with Augustus's reasoning, Loki and Lillian fell silent and refocused on the game.
On the pitch, the Snitch appeared again, this time near Harry. Like a bullet, he surged upward, closing in as it glinted in the air above the Ravenclaw stands. He accelerated, with Cho chasing below, but Harry was ahead. He reached out, moments from catching it—
Then—
"Oh!" Cho cried, pointing below.
Harry glanced down.
Three Dementors. Tall, hooded figures in black robes looked up at him.
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