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The Gryffindor Seeker was suddenly struck by a Bludger and plummeted from mid-air!
The Slytherin Beater looked bewildered. He had been certain his aim was true for Oliver Wood, the Gryffindor Keeper. How had the Bludger hit the Seeker instead? A flicker of doubt crossed his mind – could he have inadvertently mastered the legendary skill of controlling Bludgers mid-flight?
"Oh no! The Gryffindor Seeker has been knocked off his broom by a Slytherin Bludger!" Lee Jordan's voice echoed through the stadium. "Let's hope he's alright. That foul play by Slytherin!"
Professor McGonagall swiftly silenced the commentator's biased remark with a sharp cough.
A wave of indignation rippled through the Gryffindor stands. Ron Weasley, ever fervent about Quidditch, looked as though he might explode with anger. Madam Hooch immediately called for a halt to the game, hurrying the injured Gryffindor Seeker towards the hospital wing.
The Gryffindor team retreated to their tent, their expressions grim and worried.
"Oliver, how is he? Is he badly hurt?" Harry asked anxiously, rushing to the captain.
Oliver Wood looked down at him, his face heavy with concern. "Harry, you're going to have to get ready to play."
"Me?" Harry's eyes widened, surprise and apprehension mixing as he grasped the sudden responsibility thrust upon him. He was noticeably smaller than the older, more seasoned players around him.
"Scared?" Oliver asked with a faint smile.
"A bit," Harry admitted.
"That's normal," Oliver reassured him. "We all feel it the first time. But everyone has a first time, right? You'll be fine, just do your best!"
After a brief interval, Madam Hooch returned from the hospital wing, signaling for the match to resume.
"And look who it is! Gryffindor has a new Seeker on the field! It's the one and only Harry Potter!" Lee Jordan's excitement was palpable.
Harry hovered nervously on his broom, adrenaline surging as he scanned the pitch. Not far away, Draco Malfoy smirked at him. "Ready, Potter? Let's see if you're any good at this!"
Harry grinned back, a newfound determination hardening his gaze. "Of course!"
The whistle blew, and the match restarted. The rivalry between the teams intensified, with Slytherin playing aggressively, bordering on breaking the rules. Their strategy was clear: incapacitate as many Gryffindor players as possible.
Caught in the chaotic swirl of the game, Harry desperately searched the pitch for any sign of the Golden Snitch. Suddenly, a flash of gold caught his eye.
"The Snitch!" Without hesitation, Harry dove after it. Draco, realizing what was happening, swiftly followed.
Draco's Nimbus 2000 was significantly faster than Harry's broom, and within moments, they were neck and neck.
In the stands, a Slytherin prefect, Carrow, hesitated before speaking to Dyroth. "Dyroth, who do you think will catch the Snitch, Draco or Potter?"
Dyroth, not particularly invested in the game, glanced towards the professors' stands. "Draco's broom is superior, and he's more composed than Harry. While their flying skills are comparable, Draco has the advantage." He returned his gaze to the professors' table, his mind elsewhere.
Seeing Dyroth's lack of interest, Carrow dropped the subject, focusing back on the game. As the match progressed, Draco's faster broom began to give him a distinct lead. Harry, despite his utmost efforts, was falling behind.
Then, without warning, Harry's broom began to shake violently! It bucked and swerved, throwing him off balance. Panic seized him as he fought to hold on.
In the stands, Dyroth noticed Quirrell silently muttering incantations, his hands clasped as if in prayer. A cynical smile played on Dyroth's lips. "So, teacher, you couldn't resist after all, could you? But what's the point of starting something now? With so many professors present, even if Harry falls, it won't make any difference."
Below Quirrell, Lucius Malfoy was engaged in conversation with Snape, proudly extolling Draco's performance. Snape, distracted by the exchange, remained oblivious to the subtle dark magic affecting Harry's broom.
Harry's best friend, Ron, stomped his feet anxiously. Without Hermione's keen observations and quick thinking, Ron felt helpless in the face of Harry's perilous situation.
"What are you going to do now?" Dyroth mused, watching the unfolding drama with detached amusement. He wasn't Harry's guardian angel; Harry could handle his own troubles.
But just as Dyroth contemplated the possible outcomes, something unexpected occurred. Draco, seeing his rival in danger, made a split-second decision. Ignoring the elusive Snitch, he veered sharply and raced towards Harry.
In a daring maneuver, Draco reached out and grabbed Harry's hand, pulling him towards safety. However, their brooms collided.
With a sharp crack, Harry's broom snapped. Draco managed to haul Harry onto his own Nimbus 2000 just as they both plummeted towards the ground.
A moment of stunned silence hung in the air before the crowd erupted into a cacophony of cheers and gasps. The two boys had executed a miraculous save, landing hard but miraculously unharmed. Dyroth watched the scene, a flicker of recognition crossing his face – a reversed echo of the time Harry had saved Draco from the Fiendfyre. He chuckled softly. "Looks like Draco just returned the favor ahead of schedule."
The game concluded with a Slytherin victory, but the attention was solely on Draco's heroic act. As he absorbed the cheers and grateful words from the Gryffindors, Draco turned to see his father's cold, disapproving expression. His triumphant smile vanished.
"Father…"
Lucius glared at him. "Who told you to pull such a reckless stunt? Do you have any idea what could have happened if you had fallen from that height?!"
"B-but… Harry is my friend!" Draco stammered.
"And so what if he is? There are plenty of professors and a school nurse to attend to him. It is not your responsibility to play the hero!"
Lucius's frustration was evident, but after a brief pause, he seemed to regain control. "Go. I have other matters to attend to. We will discuss this later."
Draco left, his shoulders slumping. Moments later, Dyroth emerged from the shadows.
"Mr. Grindelwald," Lucius said, forcing a polite smile. "Quite the spectacle, wouldn't you agree?"
"Mr. Malfoy," Dyroth replied calmly, "I believe Draco acted admirably. There is no need for such harshness."
Lucius sighed. "You witnessed what transpired. That boy risked his life for a… friend."
Dyroth nodded. "But isn't it commendable that he has friends who would stand by him?"
Lucius paused, taken aback by the simple question. "Friends…?" He fell silent, lost in thought. Somewhere along his path, his own companions had either drifted away or become mere acquaintances. He interacted with many, but there was no one left he could truly call a friend.
After a long silence, Lucius looked back at Dyroth. "And you? Do you possess any true friends, Dyroth?"
Dyroth smiled faintly. "My path is a solitary one, by my own design."
"....."