HP: She married Malfoy after becoming an exchange student.

The Quidditch season has begun amidst the anticipation of many young wizards.

The highly anticipated match instantly ignited the entire Hogwarts community; the game was between Gryffindor and Slytherin.

On Saturday, the Quidditch pitch was packed to capacity, with the flags of the four colleges fluttering in the stands and cheers that nearly lifted the clouds.

The two academies, who were about to clash, had a long-standing grudge against each other. This time, they were even more eager to make the other side look bad. The young wizards in the red and green stands were practically sparking with their eyes as they looked at each other.

Gryffindor: Hmph, you despicable dark wizard!!!

Slytherin: Reckless, stupid lions!!!

"Aaaaaaah, Harry!!!" "Slytherin will win!!!"

Amidst a deafening roar of screams, both teams entered the field. Harry stood out conspicuously among Wood and other older players, his short stature making him easily noticeable.

Ron and Hermione squeezed into the front row of the stands, waving a banner that read "Harry will win." Even Professor McGonagall, who usually had a stern face, showed a rare look of anticipation.

In the Slytherin stands, Draco sat next to Elias, holding a silver telescope in his arms, humming a disdainful tune, but his eyes never left the center of the pitch.

Elias stood beside him, the hem of his robe fluttering gently in the wind.

He followed Draco's gaze and saw Harry riding the Nimbus 2000, hovering at low altitude. Although his movements were a bit clumsy, they revealed a tenacious spirit that refused to give up.

"Nervous?" Elias turned his head, his voice low, with a hint of barely perceptible amusement.

Draco immediately retorted, "What's there to be nervous about? I'm just bored."

But when Madam Hooch blew her whistle and fourteen figures took to the air at the same time, he still subconsciously raised his binoculars, his eyes behind the lenses locked onto the short, red figure without blinking.

Harry, dressed in his bright red team uniform, lay sprawled on Nimbus 2000, his green eyes fixed on the sky—he was looking for the Golden Snitch.

The little thing flew extremely fast, leaving a golden trail. It barely appeared near the goalpost before disappearing into the chaos of the players.

"Look at his stupid face, he'll never find it!" Draco muttered, holding his binoculars.

The situation on the field gradually intensified.

Slytherin's Seekers tried to deliberately charge at Harry several times, but he skillfully dodged them each time.

When Harry suddenly flipped upside down on the broom and reached for the Snitch, the entire arena erupted in a deafening gasp—his fingertips were inches away from touching the silver glint, but he was bumped by the Slytherin Seeker and nearly fell.

"Foul!" The Gryffindor stands erupted in chaos. Ron was the first to jump up, nearly tearing the banner to shreds. "Those despicable vipers!!!"

Draco put down his binoculars and scoffed, "If you're not as skilled as others, don't blame them."

…………

Halfway through the game, the wind suddenly shifted strangely. Harry was swooping down, tracking the Golden Snitch's shadow, when his broom suddenly began to tremble violently without warning, as if gripped tightly by an invisible hand, and he plummeted downwards.

He gripped the broom handle tightly, his knuckles turning white from the force, and the sound of the wind in his ears turned into a sharp whistling—this was not just a normal loss of control, but more like someone casting a spell in the dark.

Hermione's gaze darted rapidly across the stands, then she pointed to the edge of the pitch, her face suddenly turning deathly pale. "It's Snape! He's casting a spell!"

Upon hearing this, Ron turned his gaze toward the Slytherin teachers' table. Sure enough, Snape was standing there, his black robes fluttering in the wind, his lips moving rapidly, his cold eyes fixed on Harry's broom.

Hermione jumped to her feet, her fingers twisting her robes tightly, beads of sweat forming on her forehead. "He wanted Harry to fall! That's outrageous!"

Pushing through the crowd, Hermione rushed down from the stands. Clutching Ron's scarf, she ran straight behind Snape, raised her wand, and tremblingly uttered a fire spell.

A tiny flame shot out from the tip of the staff, landing precisely on the hem of Snape's robe, instantly igniting a small fire.

"!!!" Snape whirled around, frantically swatting out the flames, leaving a charred mark on his black robes. He glared fiercely at Hermione, his eyes practically overflowing with malevolence.

In that moment of distraction, Harry's broom suddenly regained its steady motion, as if it had broken free from an invisible restraint.

He suddenly soared upwards, his gaze sharp as an eagle's—the golden thief was flashing in the air not far away!

"Grab it! Harry!" Ron roared deafeningly.

Harry swooped down and reached out in one fluid motion. When he grasped the glittering little thing in his palm, the cheers from the entire arena nearly lifted the roof off.

The Gryffindor students hugged and cheered, and Ron even threw a banner into the air.

"Hmph!" Draco snapped the binoculars shut and slammed them down on his leg.

He watched Harry celebrate on his broomstick, his red uniform stinging his eyes in the sunlight, and retorted curtly, "He just got someone to help him out, what kind of skill is that?"

Elias picked up the binoculars, gently wiping away the fingerprints, his tone still mild: "It was certainly luck, but you also have to have the ability to seize luck, don't you?"

Draco: What did you say?!

Elias turned his head to look at Draco's puffed-up, pufferfish-like expression and added, "You'll be more dazzling than him when you play next year."

"Hmph, of course," Draco retorted, not backing down in the slightest.

"Hey, let's go, let's go," Draco tugged at Elias's sleeve—the occasional bursts of excited chuckles from the Gryffindor group made him not want to stay any longer.

There was no class today, and Malfoy, unusually, didn't use hair gel. His shiny hair hung down, making him look rather well-behaved.

Elias looked down as his sleeve was pulled, and the wind made two strands of Draco's hair stand up, which looked quite cute.

"Okay," Elias nodded.

And so Elias was dragged off the pitch step by step by Malfoy.

Their shadows intertwined in the sunlight, and they walked away into the distance...

[Mini-Theater: The Disappearance of Malfoy]

The cheers of Gryffindor's victory still echoed in the Hogwarts Quidditch pitch, while most of the Slytherin students had already left dejectedly.

Crabbe kicked the grass at his feet, his rough, angry voice exploding: "Merlin's beard! Damn Potter! Those Gryffindor idiots won the game by sheer luck with the Snitch!"

Goyle stomped his foot, his face turning bright red, "Oh, damn Potter!!!"

The two were standing with their hands on their hips, glaring fiercely in the direction of Gryffindor, when Crabbe suddenly stopped talking and realized something was wrong—the Slytherin rest area was completely empty, and Draco, who had been laughing and joking with Elias just moments before, was nowhere to be seen.

The two looked at each other, and after a moment of silence:

Crabbe | Gore: Where's the boss?!