The Snitch arced upward in a glittering trail, vanishing high into the blue like a star shot from a sling.
The stadium collectively scread.
Madam Hooch nearly swallowed her whistle.
Harry's expression twisted into sothing between outrage and betrayal.
"YOU—YOU CAN'T JUST—KICK IT!"
Cassius, still laughing, stabilized his broom with one hand and drifted upward again, casual as a cloud.
"I didn't kick it," he corrected mildly. "It flew into the path of my boot."
Harry made a strangled noise.
McGonagall pinched the bridge of her nose so hard she nearly snapped her own glasses.
To her while the ga itself was an absolute one-sided slaughter the team captains actions were a travesty to this sacred ga.
~
But even with all of Cassius's wild antics the score climbed rcilessly.
130–0
140–0
150–0
160–0
170–0.
The Slytherin Chasers were no longer "playing."
They were rely surviving trying to prevent the worst loss in Hogwarts history from adorning their House Dormitory walls.
Every attempt to break formation was intercepted—usually by Daphne's precise aggression or Cho's ballerina-like footwork.
Then, in a mont that would enter Hogwarts rumor canon for generations…
…the Beaters struck.
Luna and Astoria, drifting near mid-pitch like two whimsical harbingers of chaos, both turned lazily as the Quaffle ca hurtling toward them—flung towards them ironically by Cho herself.
Luna blinked. "Incoming."
Astoria nodded sagely. "Shall we?"
They lifted their bats.
CRACK.
The Quaffle spun sideways through the air—
—curved beautifully—
—sailed directly through the center hoop.
Madam Hooch dropped her whistle.
The crowd erupted like a bomb.
"That's—THAT'S A FOUL!" Flint shrieked, voice cracking.
"No," Luna said dreamily, already drifting away. "It's a goal."
"It's not a—YOU CAN'T—YOU'RE BEATERS!" Flint flailed madly.
Astoria tapped her bat against her palm. "Our position on the pitch is to hit balls with these bats, and that's just what we did."
Madam Hooch, defeated, waved her hand hearing the arguent but shaking her head had to admit the girls hadnt thrown the quaffle which their position didnt allow but rather used their bats to do so.
"Goal… Draconis."
The stadium went nuclear.
~
Harry's Firebolt dipped erratically as he stared at the scoreboard.
190–0.
If Slytherin didn't score, even catching the Snitch would change nothing.
The realization hit him like a Bludger to the ribs.
Harry's expression crumpled.
All the weight he carried—the expectations, the pressure, the endless comparisons—ca crashing down.
He wasn't just losing.
His entire team was.
Even if he himself had a brand new worldclass broom it changed nothing.
Even when Cassius himself wasnt even playing the ga, it didnt matter his girls were just as good at flying as he was, and now the once proud slytherins were soulless, almost listlessly flying around in the sky, wishing and praying that this tornt could end before they beca famous for the wrong reason.
Cassius slowed beside him, hovering at a respectful distance.
Harry didn't look at him.
His voice was small.
"If I catch it now… it won't matter."
Cassius didn't answer.
It would be cruel to confirm it.
Harry inhaled shakily.
His hands tightened on the Firebolt handle.
He forced himself back into motion.
But it was hollow.
Aimless.
Painfully slow compared to before.
~
Cassius should have been paying attention to the Snitch.
He should have been watching Harry.
He should have been admiring the latest Draconis goal (200–0, courtesy of Daphne dismantling Warrington again).
Instead—
Sothing tugged at him.
A prickle along the back of his neck.
A chill that didn't belong in sunlight.
His eyes drifted toward the Forbidden Forest.
And he saw them.
Shadows.
Not creatures.
Not Dentors.
Not students.
Sothing else.
Moving with intent.
In the inner folds of his robe he could feel the mauraders map vibrating in his pocket.
A sign that Petter Pettigrew or worse any of the other escaped Death Eaters had entered the range of the map.
His eyes narrowed.
"…So that's how it is."
~
Cassius inhaled.
Exhaled.
And the theatrics ended instantly.
He kicked the Aeriusbolt Supre into gear—
—and the broom howled downward with predatory precision.
The Snitch, disoriented from its previous assault, flitted near the Ravenclaw stands.
Harry spotted Cassius moving and tried to react, but—
It wasn't a race.
It wasn't even close.
Cassius reached the Snitch without flourish, without delay, without gas.
He simply extended his hand—
snap.
The golden wings locked against his glove.
Madam Hooch blew the whistle in pure, exhausted relief.
"Draconis WINS! 360–0!"
The stadium erupted.
The Draconis girls leapt from their brooms, cheering, screaming, piling together in a celebratory crush.
Harry sagged onto his Firebolt, shoulders low, staring at the snowy field below.
But Cassius…
Cassius didn't land.
He didn't wave.
He didn't celebrate.
He barely acknowledged the victory at all.
His eyes were locked on the Forest.
He turned his broom sharply—
—and shot away from the pitch like a silver-blue cot.
"Cassius?" Ginny called after him.
"Where's he going?" Cho frowned.
Even Harry lifted his head, confusion flickering through his exhaustion.
Hermione stood slowly, voice soft but certain.
"…Sothing's wrong."
~
The cheers of the crowd faded behind him.
The wind sharpened.
The world narrowed to a single point.
Cassius pushed the Aeriusbolt faster, slicing through the air toward the line of ancient trees.
Toward the place where shadows had moved against the light.
He didn't plan to openly confront the danger himself, but instead using his suspicious actions as a lure, he planned to draw in the dentors still guarding around the school grounds.
The closer he got the more he could tell about the intruders.
This ti there were three of them, each with certainly impressive mana levels he could perceive even from afar using his mana sense.
If he had to guess that would an Bellatrix, and the two Carrows, but if thats the case where is Pettigrew?
Could he be acting independently as the others serve as bait?
Cassius wanted to drop to the ground, giving him the opportunity to pull out the map and check but, letting the three of them get away without repercussion wasn't sothing he was willing to accept though he would at least step in to prevent the death of one of them, but for the other two... they were on their own.
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