Chapter 509

The two girls readily accepted Harry’s suggestion, which made him feel good—he genuinely believed he’d come up with an excellent idea, far better than anything about amnesia. After all, Eve’s changes this year had been obvious; with her solid Quidditch theory, she hadn’t even played but still built many shared topics with Ron, truly winning his heart.

Yet he overlooked a serious issue: Slytherins naturally think differently from everyone else.

In mid-January, a stunning comeback by Hufflepuff quickly became the school’s hottest Quidditch topic, as spectators witnessed nearly historic moments: aerial ace, top-tier diving, high-profile return, head coach warming up, divine possession, royal duel, and immediate retirement.

In the first three minutes of the match, Cui Ge, as keeper, outright abandoned the goal, sacrificing one goal to break Hufflepuff’s chaser formation, then swiftly maneuvered his broom to sweep a player off his mount, snatched the flying snitch midair, and slammed it into another player with relative velocity—then repeated the trick, using the third chaser’s fall to permanently etch his name into Quidditch history as the “Barents Sea Scalpel.”

At that moment, Draco beamed, raised both arms, and cheered, “Never seen such a perfect opening!”

But soon, Astoria appeared to relapse at the five-minute mark, spitting blood as she wobbled toward the Snitch; Hufflepuff’s seeker Ernie moved in for a tentative challenge, but the instant they met, Astoria’s broom suddenly disintegrated, forcing her to retreat under Madam Hooch’s protective charm.

Under Slytherin spectators’ protests, Ernie reluctantly admitted his collision caused undue disruption and was forced to accept the penalty and leave the field.

Faced with the awkward situation where both teams had lost their seekers and the match could not end, both captains simultaneously rejected the proposal to “wait for the players to return from the school infirmary” and enacted their own countermeasures.

Hufflepuff’s team captain Zacharias immediately tossed aside his beater bat, swapped into Cedric’s old jersey, and announced he was switching positions to beater—he then pulled out the broom once used by Cedric, purchased by Hufflepuff students with pooled funds after the Triwizard Tournament ended, and equipped with a reflective mirror, triggering prolonged, unremitting cheers from the stands.

Luna, on the commentary stand, couldn’t help shouting: “Zacharias has summoned a canary that seems to reverse time! We’re transported back to the golden age led by that man—Hufflepuff’s greatest legend never left! He’ll use his shadow to aid the desperate current captain in a final, desperate struggle!”

To counter this, Draco grimly removed his gloves, declared he was abandoning chaser duties, and resumed his former role as seeker. Some sycophants in the Slytherin crowd cheered, but Draco himself had no standout seeker record, and Slytherin’s situation failed to evoke sympathy or resonance from other houses.

Only Luna graciously continued shouting: “The love remains, the story never ends—Draco the chaser, returning after years…” Her voice faded as she realized it hadn’t been years at all; Draco had never performed notably as a chaser. She desperately searched for kind words, but ultimately found herself speechless.

“What are we seeing? The head coach is warming up!” she said, switching topics when she ran out of things to say, drawing every spectator’s gaze to the field’s edge—Pansy, preparing to take Draco’s chaser position—but sharp-eyed viewers noticed she was wearing high heels.

Slytherin’s lineup suddenly became abstract: the aerial ace saw no ball, only opponents; Hufflepuff’s lone beater, Ritchie, merely needed to protect himself with his small bat, inadvertently neutralizing Slytherin’s strongest player and even drawing away their keeper.

Crabbe and Goyle, two followers with survival wisdom, unhesitatingly chose “prioritize protecting big brother and big sister above all” over “use the bludgers to utterly defeat opponents.” After brief escorting, they were scolded by Draco for being in the way, then gripped their bats and followed Pansy, vowing to shield her from bludgers—even though the opposing beater was now too occupied to care, they insisted on doing it anyway.

After Pansy personally scored a few meaningless goals, all eyes turned to the seekers. Draco rode the Firebolt, his most familiar and top-tier broom, while Zacharias rode a Beauxbatons model, visibly inferior in performance—but fueled by sheer stubbornness, he repeatedly blocked Draco’s hand from touching the Snitch.

Finally, after repeated high-risk maneuvers, the two seekers inevitably tumbled together onto the grass; under Pansy’s frantic protective charms, Draco suffered no injury—but the cost was that the bruised and swollen Zacharias managed to clutch the Snitch in his palm.

“Cedric told me to! For him!” he shouted, raising the Snitch, “Say hello!”

Draco hurled the Firebolt onto the grass, nearly smashing it, and pointed a finger at Pansy, furious: “I could’ve won! I could’ve! You idiot!”

When Madam Hooch, with a hint of pity, picked up the expensive Firebolt and gently handed it back to Draco with a warm smile, the emotionally shattered young master shouted: “Donate it to the school! If I ever touch Quidditch again, I’m a Muggle-raised bastard!”

Madam Hooch’s expression instantly shifted from sympathy to delight; she clutched the Firebolt tightly, confirming Draco’s first half-sentence. But that meant he could no longer retract it and claim the second half was just anger.

In the evening, on the eighth-floor corridor, in a forgotten corner, Draco sat hunched on the floor, knees drawn to his chest, seeking solitude—only to be further wounded by Ron, who had occupied the Room of Requirement with Eve for three hours, then emerged to mock Draco with glee, and in front of his beloved girl, effortlessly defeated Crozier again with his magical versatility, leaving Draco’s eyes utterly lifeless, now collapsed motionless on the cold floor.

“You went too far—he’s had enough today,” Harry said, hearing Ron’s taunt, and suddenly felt sympathy for Draco; after all, they bore no deep grudge against him. He pulled on his robe and stepped out to check.

Sure enough, Draco still lay on the floor, seemingly unmoved.

“Sorry, Draco. I sincerely apologize for Ron—he went too far,” Harry said, driven by his innate kindness. “But I think what truly hurts you is losing the match. I want to say you don’t need to…”

“No, Potter. This has only tortured me,” Draco interrupted softly. “Nothing belongs to me—the broom, the team, even my fiancée… I only have this dragon’s power, but it changes nothing.”

“Doesn’t belong to you?” Harry found this phrasing odd.

“I donated the broom to the house. The team now has Pansy meddling in it… I know she approached you—I’m not blaming you. I saw Eve’s situation. I originally thought this would be a good step forward… but she doesn’t understand Quidditch—she only makes things worse. Later I learned: she charmed Astoria’s broom.”

“That’s murder!” Harry blurted out, stunned Pansy would do such a thing.

“Under everyone’s eyes, she won’t get hurt—not even a scratch. And do you think the Greengrass girl is easy to handle?” Draco sneered. “She deliberately spat blood. Weakness is a tactic. Crabbe saw her tucking blood packs into her robes.”

Slytherin girls really are complicated, Harry thought silently. Then he immediately found another angle to comfort: “Oh right—you mentioned Crabbe. At least Goyle and Crabbe are loyal to you.”

“Goyle and Crabbe are loyal to Malfoy—you understand? Not Vincent and Gregory loyal to Draco. Goyle and Crabbe are loyal to Malfoy. Ha. If another Malfoy stood here, it’d be the same for them.”

“Pansy too—she only wants to marry Malfoy. If someone else stood here, would it matter? Even if Harry Malfoy were here, they’d still be loyal and want to marry him. Change Ron or Neville—so long as the last word is Malfoy, their attitude won’t change. In the end, nothing belongs to me.”

Harry fell silent. He’d thought Draco didn’t know Pansy’s true feelings—though perhaps he’d just found out.

“At least, the dragon’s power is something I reclaimed myself—even if it’s weak,” Draco said bitterly, lifting the blue energy vial. “This is the only thing that belongs to Draco, not Malfoy.”

“If you want, Zhang Qiu can ask that master to make you another magma dragon gauntlet…”

“No need,” Draco shoved the vial back into his pocket. “Power is the most useless thing. Look at Dumbledore and Grindelwald—they were trapped their whole lives by what they couldn’t have. Emotion is never ruled by power. If you rely on it, you’ll only make things worse.”

Today, Draco sounded like a philosopher, Harry thought wearily. Yet the meaning of power—something Harry had stumbled into without understanding—was also a question worth pondering. He had nothing he couldn’t have… but he had too much he couldn’t undo.

“Get up. The floor’s cold,” Harry said, extending a friendly, helping hand to this boy he’d once looked down upon—for the first time.