Early in the morning, just as dawn was breaking, Harry was woken by the Gryffindor Quidditch team captain, Oliver Wood.
Forced out of bed, he washed up, pulled on his training uniform, grabbed his Nimbus 2000, and headed outside.
He had barely stepped out of the common room when he was stopped by Colin Creevey.
By now, Harry was both wary and annoyed with this kid. Colin had actually memorised Harry's class schedule and would ask him about it six or seven times a day.
Harry had repeatedly said that Quidditch practice was boring, but Colin still insisted on coming to watch, chattering nonstop along the way and bombarding him with questions.
In the cool morning breeze, Harry walked toward the Quidditch Pitch with Colin trailing behind him like a little tail.
Still half-asleep, Harry couldn't help but yawn.
"Hey, Lucien, good morning!"
Hearing Colin's excited greeting, Harry looked up and saw Lucien approaching from the direction of the pitch, carrying a… Nimbus 2001?
Harry instantly woke up.
When had Lucien bought a broom, and the latest Nimbus 2001 at that, even faster than the Nimbus 2000? Was he planning to join the Ravenclaw team this year?
Had he already finished training and was heading back? It couldn't be that early, could it?
A sense of unease crept into Harry's heart. Ravenclaw might not be strong in Quidditch due to its numbers and gender ratio, but Lucien himself was strong. What if they ended up facing him in a match?
"Morning, Colin. Harry."
Lucien waved at them and walked straight back toward the castle.
Whew, he had just finished special training with Malfoy. Time for breakfast.
Eager for food, Lucien quickened his pace, leaving Harry no time to ask questions. Remembering that the team was waiting for him, Harry also sped up.
Arriving at the changing room, Harry found that all the team members were already there. Wood was analysing tactics and training plans, saying he had painstakingly worked them out over the summer.
Harry was still very sleepy, but he forced himself to stay alert and listen. He felt quite guilty; he had missed last year's final, which had led to Gryffindor's humiliating defeat.
After Wood's long speech, everyone finally headed out onto the pitch.
Harry spotted Ron and Hermione in the stands, along with Colin, who was clutching his camera, ready to take pictures at any moment.
"This is breakfast Lucien asked us to bring you. Eat it after training, alright?"
Ron held up a lunchbox, a Christmas gift Lucien had given him the previous year.
Hearing Ron's shout, a warm feeling rose in Harry's chest, and he waved to show he'd heard.
He had just taken to the air and hadn't even begun when Wood noticed Colin snapping photos. Thinking the boy was a Slytherin spy, he was about to fly down to stop him, but George held him back.
"Relax, Slytherin doesn't need to send spies…"
George jerked his chin downward.
"They've come themselves."
An angry Wood landed in front of the group of Slytherins in green robes. He staggered slightly from the rush, then shouted at Flint,
"Flint! We're training now. I've booked the pitch. You should leave!"
Flint, who was even more solidly built than Wood, stared him down without backing off, his tone mocking.
"Oh really? Then let me read this note to everyone…"
"Ahem. I, Professor Severus Snape, permit the Slytherin team to train on the Quidditch pitch today to cultivate their new Seeker."
Wood's face darkened.
"Where's this new Seeker?"
Flint grinned and waved a hand.
"Come on, let them see our new Seeker, the one who's made a huge contribution to the team!"
The other players stepped aside, revealing Malfoy behind them.
But Malfoy looked extremely sleepy, yawning repeatedly, clearly not having heard what Flint had just said.
Seeing that Malfoy didn't step forward on his own, Flint frowned, displeased. He reached out, grabbed Malfoy, and hauled him to his side, then slapped his back heavily a few times.
"Draco Malfoy, Slytherin's new Seeker."
"Thanks to him, our team's got a brand-new set of top-tier equipment!"
As he finished speaking, the team members raised the broomsticks in their hands.
Brand-new Nimbus 2001s gleamed, their polished surfaces reflecting the morning light.
The sight immediately put pressure on the Gryffindor team.
Malfoy, his back still stinging from Flint's heavy slaps, silently cursed the brute, thinking he had no idea of his own strength. Combined with his drowsiness, the sting almost made him want to cry, so he reached into his pocket and began fumbling around.
These past few days, Lucien had been giving him special training, waking him at four in the morning and saying, "If you've never seen Hogwarts at four in the morning, how can you become an excellent Seeker?"
Thinking of Lucien's excellence, Malfoy felt that such hard work had to be right, so he had no complaints.
As he searched his pocket, Malfoy realised that his Ox-Horse Potion seemed to be gone.
The Ox-Horse Potion was a potion invented by Lucien, a coffee-coloured liquid said to refresh the mind and boost energy.
Malfoy had once curiously asked Lucien why it had such a strange name.
The answer he received was:
"After drinking it, you'll have the strength of an ox and the speed of a horse, along with exceptional endurance. It's specially prepared for students busy with their studies who lack physical stamina."
After thinking it over, Malfoy decided to let it go for now. Lucien had said it would be available for sale at the Seventh Workshop today.
He would just buy a box then. Malfoy disdained asking for a "friendship price" or any discount just because of his relationship with Lucien.
Pure-blood nobility had not sunk that low.
But he was truly exhausted now, and thinking about the training ahead, which would only be more tiring, he unconsciously drifted into a half-dazed state.
Flint, being tall, didn't notice Malfoy's condition and simply continued mocking Wood and the others.
"Tsk tsk, what are those, Comets and Cleansweeps? Maybe they're good for sweeping floors, but for Quidditch…"
As if handling a rare treasure, Flint gently stroked the Nimbus 2001 in his hand.
"You should be using a real broom like this!"
The two sides traded insults for a while. Hermione and Ron also came over and quickly learned what was going on.
Hermione glanced at Malfoy, only to find him nodding off. She then lifted her gaze directly to the tall and coarse Flint, showing no fear.
"If matches could be decided by brooms alone, then there'd be no need to play. You could just compare whose broom is more expensive and faster. I don't believe Gryffindor players need that to bolster their courage."
At this, the Gryffindors cheered, and the twins whistled, saying in unison,
"That's right, we hope those shiny brooms can comfort your fragile little hearts."
The Slytherins' expressions darkened. Flint, at the front, glared down at Hermione.
"You sharp-tongued little girl. I thought those big front teeth would affect your speech. What's wrong, you filthy Mudblood?"
Silence.
The moment that word was spoken, the entire pitch fell quiet.
Malfoy, who had been half-asleep, snapped more awake. It felt as though he had missed something, yet somehow also avoided it.
Mudblood? Who had said Mudblood?
Bang.
A dull sound rang out, followed by a cry of pain and anger.
"Ah! My broom!"
Malfoy fully opened his eyes and saw Ron holding something like an air gun, an Alchemy device.
Looking over, Flint had been blasted several metres away and was now kneeling on the ground, clutching his Nimbus 2001, which had shattered into several pieces.
Malfoy's first thought was that the thing looked quite useful. Should he get one too?
________
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