The two sides facing off were the Gryffindor and Slytherin Quidditch teams.
"Well, well, what's this? Even Ravenclaw decided to show up today?" Marcus Flint sneered.
"This is our training time! We got here early on purpose! Get off the pitch!" Oliver Wood roared angrily.
Flint was even bulkier than Wood, his face carrying a troll-like cunning as he replied lazily, "There's plenty of space, Wood."
At that moment, Gryffindor's female players—Alicia, Angelina, and Katie—arrived as well.
The Slytherin team had no girls. They stood shoulder to shoulder, all wearing the same smug expressions as they eyed their opponents.
"But I booked the field!" Wood insisted. "I booked it!"
"Ah," Flint said, "but I've got a note signed by Professor Snape. He's authorized Slytherin to train here today—to coach our new Seeker."
Lewis stood behind the crowd, watching the argument unfold with amusement.
Especially the two captains—Wood and Flint.
Wood and flint… no wonder they spark every time they meet.
"That's funny," Roger cut in, unwilling to back down. "We've got a permit signed by Professor Gilderoy Lockhart! Wait—new Seeker? Who?"
A smaller figure stepped out from behind the six taller Slytherin players.
Pale face.
Pointed features.
A smug smile.
Draco Malfoy.
But Lewis's attention was elsewhere—
On their brooms.
Seven brand-new, gleaming broomsticks, polished to perfection.
Each one bore shining gold letters:
Nimbus 2001.
"Latest model. Just released last month," Flint said casually, brushing off imaginary dust.
"I imagine they're quite a bit faster than Potter's—or Lewis's—Nimbus 2000."
"As for those outdated Comet Seven brooms…"
He swept his gaze mockingly across the others.
Even the Gryffindors used older models.
The Weasley twins still had Comet Fives.
"You might as well use them to sweep the floor."
Silence fell over the pitch.
Then—
Lewis and Ciri exchanged a glance.
At the same time—
They revealed their own broomsticks.
Nimbus 2001.
Wood's face turned even paler.
Two major rivals—
Both upgraded.
How is this fair? Pay-to-win is broken.
Malfoy, meanwhile, stared intensely at Harry, licking his lips slightly, his gaze burning.
Finally—
He was closer to Potter than ever before.
Different houses didn't matter.
On the Quidditch pitch—
They could finally compete directly.
Chasing each other through the air.
Clashing at high speed.
Sweat and wind—
A true connection.
Ever since first year, Malfoy had tried to befriend Harry.
But his methods had been… questionable.
And Ron's interference hadn't helped.
Still—
In Malfoy's mind, Harry was just like him.
They should have been friends.
His thoughts drifted—
Until Ron arrived.
Accompanied by Hermione.
After Lewis's tutoring, Hermione had finally learned to appreciate Quidditch.
"What's going on?" Ron asked Harry. "Why aren't you playing? Why are three teams here?"
"I'm Slytherin's new Seeker," Malfoy said proudly, eager to provoke. "Everyone's admiring the brooms my father bought for the team."
He looked at Ron with a sneer.
"So what are you doing here, Weasley? This is a place for players. Not for you."
"Hogwarts is holding a Quidditch tournament. Potter and I will be playing. Care to guess who won't be invited?"
Ron's face turned red with anger.
He wanted to play.
To fly alongside Harry.
To compete.
But he had neither the talent—
Nor the money.
Before, he could accept that.
But now—
Malfoy was on the team.
The thought of Malfoy flying beside Harry—
Laughing, competing—
It made his stomach twist.
Hermione stepped forward, unable to hold back.
"At least no one on Gryffindor had to buy their way onto the team," she said sharply. "They earned their places."
Malfoy's face flushed with rage.
"No one asked you, you filthy Mudblood!"
The moment the words left his mouth—
He realized his mistake.
There were rumors—
That this "Mudblood" had close ties with someone in Ravenclaw.
Someone—
Even Malfoy couldn't afford to provoke.
But it was too late.
The insult hit like a depth charge.
Flint immediately stepped in front of Draco.
Alicia shouted, "How dare you!"
Even Ron instinctively reached for his wand.
Cho Chang looked nervously toward Lewis.
She knew—
What he was capable of.
He had slain a Chimera.
If he used that kind of power here—
Malfoy wouldn't survive.
But Lewis—
Did nothing.
He simply crossed his arms, watching calmly.
Cho blinked.
Then she understood.
He didn't need to act—
Because Hermione already had.
"Expelliarmus!"
A flash of red light shot past Flint's shoulder—
Striking Malfoy head-on.
His wand—and broom—flew out of his hands as he stumbled backward.
Before anyone could react—
Hermione raised her wand again.
"Animate Rope!"
Malfoy's robes twisted violently—
Binding him tightly.
He collapsed, wriggling helplessly like a green caterpillar.
Crabbe and Goyle charged forward immediately.
They lacked Slytherin cunning—
But made up for it in brute force.
Hermione didn't flinch.
"Grease!"
The ground beneath them became slick.
Both slipped and crashed down.
She resisted the urge to follow up with a Burning Hands spell—
And instead cast Animate Rope twice more.
Binding them both.
In under ten seconds—
Three enemies.
Neutralized.
The entire field fell silent.
Since when… was Hermione this strong?
Cho looked at Lewis again, her expression complicated.
Now she understood.
This—
Was his influence.
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