The Great Hall of Hogwarts buzzed with its usual mealtime energy. Augustus was calmly enjoying his meal, seated beside a chattering Draco Malfoy and a visibly irritated Lillian. Malfoy was enthusiastically detailing the prominent Quidditch teams of the wizarding world to Augustus.
"All right, Malfoy, what are you trying to say? Just spit it out already! Stop beating around the bush like a gossiping old woman!" Lillian snapped, slamming her cutlery onto the table in frustration.
"Heh…" Malfoy's face reddened slightly. Forcing a nonchalant tone, he said, "I've been made Slytherin's Seeker! This afternoon is our first training session—would you both come watch?" He glanced at them with eager anticipation.
"Oh? You've been selected as Seeker? Impressive—considering your age, that's quite an achievement," Augustus said with polite indifference. Though he had no interest in Quidditch, he offered a courteous congratulations. Why Malfoy had been chosen, however, was a matter he did not care to ponder.
"Who would've thought, Malfoy? Feeling proud, aren't you? I bet your rival and little buddy Harry will see you in a new light now," Lillian teased with a playful grin.
"Hmph! Just wait and see. At the next Slytherin versus Gryffindor match, I'll show everyone who the true Seeker is!" Malfoy declared with unshakable confidence.
"Ha! We'll see. I wouldn't get my hopes up if I were you. Have you forgotten the crystal ball incident? You were utterly crushed by Harry! Where's all this confidence coming from?" Lillian's skeptical expression only deepened Malfoy's embarrassment.
Malfoy's pale face flushed crimson as he waved her off angrily. "That was a fluke! A one-time mistake! Just wait for the real match—I'll outshine him, no doubt!" Regaining his composure, he added, "So, will you come to my training this afternoon? It's my first session."
After a brief consideration, Augustus nodded. "All right, I'll come. I've got nothing else planned." Seeing Augustus agree, Lillian also consented without hesitation. Malfoy left the table, beaming with satisfaction.
That afternoon, Augustus and Lillian accompanied the Slytherin Quidditch team to the pitch. To their surprise, they found Gryffindor students already practicing there.
The Gryffindor players, noticing the arrival of the Slytherins, descended from the sky and confronted them.
"Flint!" Oliver Wood, Gryffindor's captain, shouted at the Slytherin captain, Marcus Flint. "This is our practice slot! We specifically came early to secure the pitch! Get out!"
Flint, bulkier than Wood and wearing his usual trollish smirk, retorted slyly, "The pitch is big enough for both of us, Wood."
The Gryffindor girls—Alicia, Angelina, and Katie—approached the scene. The Slytherin team, composed solely of male players, lined up shoulder to shoulder, smirking arrogantly at their Gryffindor counterparts.
"But I booked the pitch!" Wood argued fiercely. "It's ours!"
"Ah," Flint replied, holding up a note, "but I have a special permission slip, signed by Professor Snape himself. 'I, Severus Snape, hereby grant the Slytherin team permission to use the Quidditch pitch today for training their new Seeker.'"
"You've got a new Seeker?" Wood's indignation momentarily turned into curiosity. "Where is he?"
From behind the tall Slytherin players stepped Draco Malfoy, his pale, pointed face alight with smugness.
"Isn't that Lucius Malfoy's son?" Fred Weasley muttered disdainfully.
"And speaking of Lucius Malfoy," Flint added with a grin, "he was kind enough to donate these for our team."
With a synchronized motion, the Slytherins presented their new brooms—seven sleek, polished Nimbus 2001s, their golden lettering gleaming in the sunlight.
"Latest model, just released last month," Flint said nonchalantly, brushing imaginary dust off his broom. "I'm sure it's far superior to the old Nimbus 2000 series. As for those Cleansweep Sevens…" He cast a mocking glance at Fred and George, each holding a well-worn Cleansweep. "They'd be better off sweeping floors."
Augustus sighed at the brewing tension. Another clash between houses—predictable when Malfoy was around. Was he some sort of magnet for trouble?
"Augustus," Harry said, approaching him with a pleading look. "You're the unofficial prefect for Slytherin—can't you mediate? We were here first!"
"Don't try to stir the pot, Potter," Malfoy interjected slyly. "This is between our teams."
At that moment, Ron and Hermione arrived to see what was happening.
"What's going on?" Ron asked, glancing between the groups. "Why aren't you playing? And what's he doing here?"
Ron's gaze landed on Malfoy, clad in the Slytherin Quidditch uniform.
"I'm Slytherin's new Seeker, Weasley," Malfoy announced smugly. "And just now, everyone was admiring the brooms my father bought for our team."
Ron gawked at the seven top-tier brooms before him.
"Impressive, aren't they?" Malfoy said with mock kindness. "Maybe Gryffindor could scrape together some gold to buy new ones. Or auction off those antiques of yours—some museum might want them."
The Slytherin team erupted into laughter.
"At least Gryffindor players don't have to buy their way onto the team," Hermione said sharply. "They're chosen on talent alone."
Malfoy's smug expression darkened.
"No one asked you, you filthy little Mudblood," he sneered.
Harry instantly knew Malfoy had crossed a line. The reaction was explosive. Flint stepped in front of Malfoy to block Fred and George, who looked ready to pounce. Alicia screamed, "How dare you!" Ron, shaking with fury, pulled out his wand and yelled, "You'll pay for that, Malfoy!"
A loud bang echoed across the pitch as green light shot from Ron's malfunctioning wand, hitting him squarely in the stomach. He stumbled backward and fell to the ground.
"Ron! Are you okay?" Hermione shrieked. Ron opened his mouth to respond but instead let out a burp—and several slugs tumbled out onto his lap.
Augustus rubbed his temples. Of course, it had to end like this. Ron's wand was still broken from the flying car incident, and yet here he was, casting spells. As always, it fell to Augustus to clean up the mess.
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