As a seasoned player who'd competed in more than one inter-house match, Qin Yu could read the subtle shifts in the game with just a glance.
It was obvious: after Katie's breakthrough goal, Slytherin had lost all composure and calm.
Even if they were now ganging up on rookies like Katie and Alicia, their agitation and panic were impossible to hide. Mistakes piled up—elbows flew, bodies crashed, and fouls became frequent.
One especially nasty foul saw a Slytherin Beater knock a Bludger clear out of bounds, smashing a first-year Hufflepuff boy right in the nose. The poor kid was probably seeing a live match for the first time—when the Bludger came his way, he just froze, forgetting to duck, and took the hit full on.
"In short, Slytherin's rhythm is shot."
Monnie, a veteran Quidditch player and former commentator, summed it up in a single sentence.
"But they look so scary—Katie's completely surrounded," Jonna fretted, her worry for her roommate plain.
"Relax. Now that Slytherin's showing such a huge weakness, that guy Qin won't let the chance slip by," Monnie said breezily, as if inviting everyone to sit back and enjoy the show.
Her confidence soothed Jonna, who went right back to cheering for her roommate and the unstoppable Qin, eager for their next big play.
...
WHAM!
Without warning, Qin Yu smashed a Bludger at a Slytherin player, clearing the way for Angelina Johnson to barrel through and score with practiced ease.
Marcus and Pucey arrived late, hovering near the goalposts in frustration. They glanced from Katie and Alicia—who they'd just been marking—to Angelina, who'd just scored. Both seethed with irritation and confusion, momentarily unsure who to defend.
But the Gryffindor players had no intention of letting up. Sensing the holes in Slytherin's defense, they attacked relentlessly.
With the twin Beaters, Qin and George, working in tandem, and all three Chasers pressing forward, the match quickly became lopsided. Gryffindor racked up five goals in a flash.
The score: 50 to 0!
But Slytherin's frustration boiled over. Marcus made good on his pre-match bravado—after grabbing the Quaffle, he took two brutal hits from Qin, his face battered and bruised, but he still muscled through for Slytherin's first goal of the game.
"…That was a goal you can't help but respect. Qin even pounded his right fist to his chest and pointed at his opponent. I'm not sure what it means, but it's clear he's showing respect.
Still, judging by Qin's brisk, confident turn, he's not about to go easy on anyone just because of a little admiration!"
Just as commentator Lee Jordan predicted, Qin didn't give Slytherin a single chance. He and his teammates kept up the pressure, launching attack after attack. After Marcus's lone goal, Slytherin seemed to have spent their last reserves of courage—now, all they could do was scramble to keep up.
...
"Why didn't you keep chasing?" Marcus roared.
"I saw Qin coming…" Pucey muttered.
"What are you Beaters even doing? Can't hit a single player!" Marcus snapped.
"They're flying too fast, dodging all over—it's impossible to aim!" the Beater protested.
"If you can't defend the goal, you might as well take your broom and sweep the toilets!" Marcus spat at the weary Keeper.
"I… I'm doing… my best…" the Keeper replied, utterly spent.
Marcus's shouting and his teammates' sighs echoed across the pitch.
After tearing into everyone, the Slytherin captain spotted his own Seeker, Terence Higgs.
He saw the boy still staring, unblinking, at Gryffindor's Seeker—the so-called useless Harry Potter—and his blood boiled.
He flew straight over, jabbing Terence in the backside with his broomstick. "What are you doing? Stop gawking at him and start looking for the Snitch! What's the point of just tailing that guy?!"
"I thought Potter might've spotted the Golden Snitch…" Terence mumbled, voice barely above a whisper.
He was never the assertive type, and now he didn't even dare raise his head.
Marcus was so mad he actually laughed.
They'd just been fooled by Qin and Potter working together—how could Terence fall for it again?
Absolutely hopeless!
"Do I need to teach you what a Wronski Feint is? He's obviously pretending he's seen the Snitch, trying to lure us into chasing him! Haven't you learned anything?!" Marcus laid into his teammate without mercy.
"Alright, maybe I was overthinking it…" Terence muttered, shrinking further.
But before he could finish, he suddenly froze, then stammered, "M-Marcus, is there something glinting over there?"
He pointed shakily toward a patch of sky.
Marcus followed his finger—and sure enough, there was a flash of gold.
And that blasted Harry Potter was diving straight for it.
"M-Marcus, is Harry Potter—?"
"Is he what? Get after him!" Marcus bellowed.
"But… isn't that his feint?"
"…"
Marcus's face turned beet red—he couldn't tell if his teammate was being dense or just trying to wind him up.
But now wasn't the time to argue about who'd been fooled. The only thing that mattered was stopping Potter from catching the Snitch!
With the score at 90 to 10, if they could prevent Gryffindor from catching the Snitch and grab it themselves, the whole game would flip.
That calculation flashed through Marcus's mind—but his body moved even faster. He shot off, rocketing toward Harry Potter.
With no other options, he chose the dirtiest tactic he had: a blatant foul, swinging his broom's tail across Harry's path with a sharp, illegal swerve.
Harry Potter had been soaring after the Golden Snitch, heart pounding—sure he'd spotted it first, already imagining himself sealing the match with a single, glorious catch.
But out of nowhere, a broomstick tail whipped across his face, nearly knocking his glasses off. The sudden blow sent him reeling, panic flaring as he scrambled to dodge.
In that split-second, the Snitch vanished from sight.
So, Slytherin took the penalty, trading a possible goal for Gryffindor (just 10 points) for denying them the 150 points a Snitch catch would bring.
As captain, Marcus made the calculation without hesitation.
But his blatant foul drew outrage—especially from the Gryffindor supporters.
...
In the stands, Hermione and her classmates were disgusted by Marcus's shamelessness. Harry's roommates were furious on his behalf, and Dean even shouted that Marcus should be kicked out of the game.
But Madam Hooch didn't "grant" Dean's wish—Quidditch had no yellow or red cards. As referee, she simply awarded Gryffindor a penalty shot and gave them possession.
Though Gryffindor used the penalty to score another 10 points, it was a poor consolation for missing the Snitch.
Their spirits sagged—if only a little.
Luckily, Qin took a lap around the pitch in place of their captain, Wood, rallying the team and lifting morale once more.
"Harry… what's wrong with him?"
As the match raged on, Hermione, peering through her monocular, noticed something odd. Not far behind Qin, Harry seemed to be in trouble.
His broomstick was bucking like a wild horse, jerking up and down, swaying left and right.
It didn't take long for others to notice too, and soon the stands were buzzing with alarmed whispers.
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