Slytherin was completely different today. The atmosphere was so lively, you'd think you'd stepped into the wrong common room.
Delicious food.
Sweet drinks.
The usually mysterious and reserved Slytherin common room had turned into a full-blown party.
The normally aloof Slytherins had shed their aristocratic airs. No one was thinking about family status or alliances—right now, they were all celebrating this victory together.
If students from other houses had seen this, they'd definitely be confused.
After all, Slytherin had won plenty of matches before, even holding the record for seven consecutive championships. A single win shouldn't have caused such a fuss.
But only Slytherins truly understood—the meaning behind this victory was in a league of its own.
Because this was real glory!
...
The moment the players stepped into the common room, they were instantly surrounded by cheering students.
They weren't just here to welcome back the heroes of Slytherin. Everyone wanted to hear firsthand about Draco Malfoy...
"Captain~ you're the star of the night, quit hiding like you're dead over there!"
Pansy's exaggerated winks and teasing made her look unexpectedly cute.
However...
"Who the hell gave her Butterbeer?"
That soft, sweet scent of butterscotch clinging to Pansy's limply swaying figure told Draco everything he needed to know.
That overly sugary smell came from low-alcohol Butterbeer, the kind brewed for underage witches and wizards.
"You guys just let her drink it? Sure, it's weak, but it's still alcohol."
Staring at her flushed cheeks and those already dazed, sparkling eyes, Draco sighed and pinched her cheek in irritation, trying to snap her out of it.
But the little drunk in his hands didn't sober up at all. Instead, she let out a flirty groan and wriggled around in his grasp, her half-hearted resistance only proving she was completely out of it.
"This idiot..."
Draco could only pull his hand back with a sigh. Most people wouldn't know it, but he was well aware of just how awful this little princess's alcohol tolerance was. One minute she was giggling, the next she'd be fast asleep.
And yet she never learned—she always had a soft spot for sweet, fizzy Butterbeer.
"Hahaha... There's no stopping the boss lady."
"She's just really happy today."
Faced with Draco's glare, Goyle and Crabbe awkwardly looked away before disappearing into the crowd, clearly eager to dig into the feast.
Draco glanced at the two of them, then turned back to the small disaster now curled up on the sofa, quietly snoring in her sleep.
"You're just dumping her on me?"
His eye twitched.
Draco had a sneaking suspicion Goyle and Crabbe had done it on purpose...
...
If Slytherin was wrapped in joy, then Gryffindor was steeped in gloom.
The defeat in this match was hard for the Gryffindor players to accept. Even the Weasley twins had lost their appetite for mischief.
By the time the team had collected themselves and returned to the Gryffindor common room, they had no idea how to face the fellow students who had placed so much hope in them.
Thankfully, the Gryffindor students didn't place blame on Wood and the others. Instead, they stepped forward to comfort them...
"George, where's Wood? I don't see him anywhere."
"Wood... After the match ended, he locked himself in the team room and won't come out no matter how much we call."
That answer drew a heavy sigh from everyone nearby.
They had a dedicated, responsible captain and a gifted Seeker—so how had they still lost?
And they didn't even lose to a Slytherin team playing dirty.
Most of the young lions still couldn't come to terms with the result...
But the one taking it hardest was Ron Weasley, who was currently at the infirmary visiting Harry Potter.
"Damn it! If it weren't for the broom malfunction, that damn Death Eater wouldn't have gotten so cocky!"
"If we had seven Nimbus 2000s, we wouldn't have lost so badly!"
"Why didn't they let me join the Quidditch team? If I'd played with Harry, we would've shown those scummy Slytherins how real Quidditch is played!"
If his earlier complaints still held a shred of truth, the later ones were just plain ridiculous.
Ron's nonstop ranting was already getting on Hermione's nerves. She rolled over irritably on the hospital bed where she'd been made to lie down by a worried Professor McGonagall, despite being perfectly fine.
If it weren't for the fact that she had her own worries, and this wasn't the place for an argument, Hermione might have snapped back at Ron already.
Besides, there was something else gnawing at her mind.
In fact, even Harry—who had no choice but to endure Ron's rambling—was starting to lose patience...
"Ron, Draco was the one who saved me. I don't think he's as bad as you say."
Despite the rough childhood he'd endured, Harry hadn't grown up with a skewed sense of right and wrong. He knew how to be grateful, and he understood fairness.
If it hadn't been Ron—the first wizard friend Harry ever made—saying all this, Harry would've been angry by now.
"But... but... he's a Death Eater!"
"Ron, stop."
"Alright, but don't forget that the Death Eat—... okay, fine, I won't say anything."
Harry's serious expression stopped Ron from continuing, though the scowl in his eyes made it clear he hadn't changed his mind—he was just keeping quiet for now.
While the two of them sat in tense silence, Hermione's quiet, hesitant voice broke through...
"Harry... did you feel anything strange at the time?"
"You're still going on about Dark Magic? It was just a broom malfunction."
Ron shot back quickly, not noticing the thoughtful look spreading across Harry's face. It seemed Hermione's words had struck a chord.
But after hearing Ron's dismissal, Harry hesitated. He wasn't so sure anymore—and kept his thoughts to himself.
Just then, the door creaked open.
A wizard stepped into the room, his long white beard flowing, and the blue eyes behind his half-moon spectacles glinting with a knowing light.
It was the Headmaster of Hogwarts.
Albus Dumbledore...
...
[Upto 50 chapters ahead for now]
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