Draco might always seem composed, mature, even detached—but the mont he chose to play as a Chaser instead of taking on a more low-profile position, it was already clear: he was never one to shy away from the spotlight.
Especially not now, with an offense this aggressive.
Beneath that polished, elegant exterior burned the heart of a tiger...
And nothing stirs the blood more than a one-on-one faceoff.
Draco’s choice to abandon a clear nurical advantage and engage in a direct duel sent the younger students—those still at the age of hero worship—into a frenzy. Their cheers echoed across the stadium, many forgetting for a mont that he was supposed to be the despicable Slytherin villain in their eyes.
Of course, not everyone was caught up in the excitent. So of the more level-headed spectators frowned, confused or even disdainful of Draco’s move.
He could’ve secured the point easily—so why go for a flashy, high-risk maneuver? It felt like a showy stunt, an unnecessary gamble.
Especially given that Draco didn’t fit the stereotypical Slytherin mold—he wasn’t one of those burly brutes built for brute-force plays. His refined style only made his decision stand out more, lending it the air of soone hungry for attention.
But regardless of what the crowd thought, none of it could shake Draco’s resolve. This wasn’t a choice made on impulse, nor was it arrogance or a thirst for fa.
No—this had been Draco’s plan from the very beginning.
Because nothing demoralizes an opponent more than being defeated in a straight-up, face-to-face battle.
This shot was Slytherin’s pride.
This shot was Draco’s creed.
This shot would decide everything!
...
So wizards are simply born gifted—blessed with talents others could only dream of.
Like Draco Malfoy’s unique abilities... or Harry Potter’s natural skill at Quidditch.
Though things hadn’t looked promising before the match, once it began, Harry’s performance was on par with even the most experienced players.
In fact, with Slytherin having changed their Seeker and both teams now using equally matched broomsticks, Harry—despite being a newcor—had completely dominated the duel.
What was once thought to be Gryffindor’s weak link had beco its greatest edge.
Yet, while keeping the opposing Seeker locked down, Harry started to notice sothing... off.
‘What’s going on? They don’t seem to be looking for the Golden Snitch at all... but that can’t be right.’
Every Quidditch-savvy wizard knew the importance of a skilled Seeker.
After all, catching the Golden Snitch ant 150 points—often the deciding factor in a closely contested ga. It wasn’t sothing any team could afford to ignore.
No one, absolutely no one, would ever willingly forfeit that shot at victory.
And yet... the Slytherin Seeker tailing Harry gave him exactly that impression.
That—was the source of Harry’s unease.
…
In truth, Draco never had any real expectations for his team’s Seeker from the start.
Of all the positions in Quidditch, the Seeker relies most heavily on raw talent and experience. Slytherin’s original Seeker had been none other than their forr captain, Marcus Flint—but after being defeated by Draco, Flint had stepped down and left the team.
With no backup Seeker in place, the role was hastily filled by the Chaser Draco had previously replaced.
Given the circumstances, Draco assigned only one task to his stand-in Seeker: stick close to Harry Potter. That was it.
He didn’t need to win the race for the Snitch. He just needed to slow Harry down, delay him from catching it too quickly. That was all Draco asked.
Because from beginning to end, this match was never about the Seeker.
Draco wanted to win by overwhelming his opponent head-on...
As Harry puzzled over the odd behavior of the opposing Seeker, he listened with half an ear to Lee Jordan’s comntary, using it to gauge how far along the ga had progressed.
“Is this going to be a straight-up duel?! Slytherin’s new captain is charging toward the goal—but waiting for him is Gryffindor’s greatest Keeper of all ti, Oliver Wood!”
Everyone could hear how biased Lee Jordan was being, but no one paid it any mind. At that mont, every witch and wizard in the stands had their eyes locked on the green blur streaking across the pitch.
One figure was moving so fast it left afterimages.
The other stood like a fortress, exuding the resolve of an unshakable wall.
‘Trying to bait out with speed? Not a chance!’
With his seasoned instincts, Wood instantly read Draco’s intent when he saw him making no move to slow down.
“Look, everyone—it’s the Double Eight Loop! Has Wood seen through Draco Malfoy’s play? As expected from a Keeper with his experience. This is what separates a veteran from—wait, what!?”
Halfway through his confident analysis, Lee Jordan suddenly leapt up from the comntator’s booth in shock.
“No way—that’s the Vratsa Feint! That’s the signature move of Vratsa, the seven-ti regular season MVP! How is a move like that showing up in a school match?!”
Most of the crowd had no idea what the Vratsa Feint even was—but it didn’t matter. Nothing could diminish the brilliance of Draco’s maneuver.
Because...
“The goal is good! Scored by... Draco Malfoy!!”
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