Just as Pansy had said.
The moment Draco stepped into the Great Hall the next morning, he could feel the heavy tension hanging in the air—clearly coming from Slytherin and Gryffindor.
"They're not seriously going to start a fight, are they?"
"Excuse me, you're literally involved. Don't act like this has nothing to do with you."
Pansy, walking beside him, shot Draco a sharp look, clearly annoyed by how detached he sounded.
Was he only now realizing the situation?
It wasn't all that different from the kind of clashes that broke out during the Muggle World Cup—Quidditch had a way of stirring intense emotions. The young wizards, all fiercely loyal to their own house teams, often got carried away. One impulsive move and things could easily spiral.
If not for the school rules holding them back, a fight really might have broken out, just like Draco had joked.
Not to mention, Slytherin and Gryffindor had never exactly been on friendly terms...
In fact, the very second Draco entered the hall, students from both houses instinctively turned to look at him.
Expectation, pride.
Hostility, scrutiny.
So many clashing emotions in those stares—it would've been hard for anyone without strong nerves to stay composed under that kind of pressure.
Even Draco's expression wavered for a brief second.
It's worth mentioning that Harry Potter, who had arrived in the hall even earlier, walked in with a stiff, uncomfortable expression. If Hermione hadn't given him a timely shove, he might've just frozen there on the spot...
...
Whether he sat down or reached for his cup, Draco could feel those stares pressing in.
"What's with these people? Did I do something to provoke them?"
He frowned. While he could ignore the looks, having eyes on him no matter what he did was starting to get on his nerves.
"Wait... don't tell me you still don't know?"
"Know what?"
"Our first match is against Gryffindor."
"So?"
Draco's flat response almost made Pansy choke.
"I still don't get why Professor Snape insisted on putting you on the team when you clearly don't care…"
Pansy sighed, helpless in the face of Draco's complete lack of interest.
Every Slytherin was eagerly waiting to see their so-called Slytherin Prince crush the Chosen One on the pitch.
But what they didn't know was that this "Prince" of theirs had never had the slightest interest in Quidditch. If it weren't for Snape forcing him, Draco wouldn't have joined the team at all.
Others might be in the dark, but Pansy knew full well—Draco hadn't attended a single practice.
Not even once!
And odds were, he hadn't even decided which position he was going to play...
"Just... whatever you do, don't let anyone find out you haven't shown up for even one training session."
Pansy leaned in, whispering the warning to the blissfully unconcerned Draco.
She didn't know why the Slytherin team hadn't reached out to him, but if word got out—and they ended up losing to Gryffindor—Pansy didn't even want to imagine what it would do to Draco's reputation...
"Relax. I'm not that careless."
Draco shrugged. Of course he understood what Pansy was worried about.
Even if he thought she was overthinking it, she wasn't entirely wrong.
After all, whether it was to settle a score or just to crush the other side, this match was the perfect opportunity for the students of both houses.
After all, there's a saying in the wizarding world—
Leave everything to Quidditch!
…
Compared to Draco's calm demeanor...
Harry Potter, sitting stiffly at the Gryffindor table, clearly wasn't handling things with the same composure.
The mix of tension and anxiety rushing at him—driven by the weight of others' expectations and hostility—combined with the strange thrill of possibly defeating Malfoy, had him caught in a whirlwind of nerves. For the young lion who had only just stepped into the wizarding world, it was both overwhelming pressure and a trial to prove himself.
Truthfully, the Chosen One was shouldering a burden far beyond his years.
Whether that pressure would push him to grow or cause him to break... only Harry could decide.
What most people didn't know was this: despite being called the Chosen One, Harry never really believed he was all that special.
Unlike Slytherin's Malfoy, Harry had no noble background, nor did he see in himself the makings of a powerful wizard. It made him wonder—was he truly the savior everyone thought he was?
It wasn't until that first flying lesson that Harry discovered his talent for Quidditch.
A talent that seemed to come from his parents.
Only then did he begin to feel real confidence—at least when it came to Quidditch.
But he never expected things to turn out like this...
"Harry, how's Quidditch practice going? Any issues?"
"You've got to eat more—those Slytherins won't go easy on you."
"Is the Nimbus 2000 all tuned up? That's your secret weapon, you know."
Ron, seated beside Harry, was talking nonstop like some overzealous personal coach, whispering advice right into Harry's ear—completely ignoring whether Harry was even listening.
Judging by Harry's helpless expression, Ron had clearly been going on like this for a while.
"Harry, I think you need to relax. You're way too tense."
Noticing Harry's strained look, Hermione offered a gentle reminder, shooting Ron a pointed glare for piling on the pressure.
"I know, Hermione, but—"
"Don't worry. I'm here to help. You don't need to stress so much."
Before Harry could finish, Ron cut him off, prompting an awkward look to creep across Harry's face.
Ron Weasley's words made Hermione's eyebrows shoot up.
The Troll incident may have softened her a bit, but some habits were hardwired.
"Oh, so stuffing himself like a pig is actually your brilliant advice for Harry?"
"Or is it that your constant nagging counts as support?"
"If that's the case, then I guess I really don't have to worry about losing to Slytherin."
Hermione Granger—the sharp-tongued version—had returned.
The string of remarks, so biting yet impossible to argue with, along with the quiet laughter from nearby students, made Ron flush a furious red.
Just as he opened his mouth to fire back, Hermione hugged her books and swept out of the hall, flipping her hair and leaving no room for a rebuttal.
And from a distance, Draco saw the whole thing...
...
[Upto 50 chapters ahead for now]
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