Sharp gray eyes.
Wind howling past his ears.
Robes snapping violently in the air.
At some point, Draco had stopped hearing the noise of the crowd. All his focus was locked on a single target—the Quaffle.
Speed and adrenaline—this was the thrill every man dreamed of. At that moment, every wizard on the sidelines was on their feet.
Cheering.
Shouting.
No matter how much they hated Slytherin, the instant Draco showcased his full flying prowess, the stadium erupted. The emotion was undeniable.
Would it be success—or failure?
Only Draco, with a calm face and eyes blazing like fire, knew the answer...
...
Lee Jordan's shout, followed by Professor McGonagall's furious roar, jolted the spectators who'd been convinced Gryffindor was about to score. All heads turned upward.
What they saw was a streak of green tearing through the sky.
The sheer performance of the Nimbus 2000, combined with the speed of gravity-assisted descent, gave the illusion of an uncontrollable dive.
"Who is that? Why isn't anyone from Gryffindor marking him?"
"Are you kidding? That's a Nimbus 2000. There's no way the Comet series can keep up!"
"Watch out!"
"Angelina, move!"
The figure tearing across the sky struck like a falcon diving on its prey.
Almost no one had noticed it—until it was too late.
No one, except the commentator, who had just enough of a vantage point to shout a warning to Angelina Johnson as she lined up her shot...
"Angelina! Above you!"
George, tasked with covering her, had just knocked a Bludger away to stop Slytherin's approach. He spun around and shouted the warning.
But it was already too late to reach her.
And it wasn't just George—every Gryffindor player was caught up, entangled with their Slytherin counterparts.
Because Draco hadn't launched this attack alone.
The moment he dove, every Slytherin who had been tracking his movements surged forward in sync, cutting off any support that might have reached Angelina.
Now, she stood alone—facing a strike from above.
"What?!"
Startled by the warning, Angelina, who had been completely focused on the goal, barely had time to look up before her vision went dark.
The sun was blotted out by Draco, descending fast from above...
"Too late!"
Wind howled.
Just as Angelina braced herself to shoot, her world went black—and her hand suddenly felt light.
Even as Draco's voice still echoed faintly in the air, the Quaffle that had belonged to Gryffindor was already in his grasp. Angelina, talented and graceful as she was, never stood a chance to react.
The sight left the young wizards who had been eagerly awaiting Gryffindor's opening goal stunned into silence—faces so dumbfounded that Pansy nearly burst out laughing.
And Draco's next move made things worse.
The crowd of Gryffindor supporters stared, mouths agape, as if hit by a full-body Bind curse...
This was the essence of a defensive counterattack—using speed to tear apart the opposing formation, then launching a sweeping strike the moment the defense succeeded.
And clearly, Draco had full control over the timing of that strike.
"Now it's our turn to strike back!"
"Everyone, with me!"
The moment Draco seized the Quaffle, Slytherin's defensive formation transformed instantly into a full-on offensive push.
Their sudden burst of speed sent Oliver Wood in Gryffindor's backfield shouting in panic.
"Move! Everyone fall back—now!"
"George, Fred—use the Bludgers to slow them down!"
"Angelina, stall them!"
Slytherin's rapid shift in tactics caught the unprepared Gryffindors completely off guard. Even with their captain's warning, they were still a step too late...
One second. That was all it took to tip the scales.
...
"Unbelievable—Draco Malfoy snatched the Quaffle clean, giving Slytherin a lucky escape! Even luckier, Angelina's not hurt. Now it's... wait, what's this? Coordination? Slytherin's actually playing with tactics?!"
As Lee Jordan's commentary echoed through the stadium, Wood remained planted in front of the goalposts, silent. But cold sweat beaded on his brow as he watched the Slytherin players charge forward—he could sense the shift.
"Since when did Slytherins—who only knew how to foul—start using strategy?!"
From his position in the backfield, Wood could see it clearer than anyone. His teammates trapped on the other side of the pitch wouldn't make it back in time.
They hadn't just reacted a beat too slow. With the performance gap between broomsticks, even Wood's warnings had become meaningless.
Still, the Gryffindor captain pushed all distractions aside and locked his gaze on Draco, who had already broken into their zone.
Now, he was Gryffindor's final line of defense—the best Keeper in all of Hogwarts!
"Come on. I'm stopping this shot—no matter what!"
"Oh? Going for a direct duel?"
In Wood's eyes, Draco saw the fierce determination of a true Quidditch player, and it sparked something in him. His cold, indifferent face showed a flicker of interest.
That smirk—arrogant to some—and the commanding wave that sent his teammates veering away drew loud, excited screams from the stands filled with younger witches.
Was he really going one-on-one despite having the numbers advantage?
That bold, dominating choice made Pansy's cheeks flush scarlet, her mind clearly running wild...
In that moment, Draco Malfoy was the center of the entire pitch. All eyes were on him!