The Hearts of Those Who Played Tactics Were All Black

November,

The first match of the annual Quidditch House Cup at Hogwarts in the 1993 school year.

Despite the torrential rain that had been pouring down all day, it couldn't dampen Slytherin's confidence in their victory.

According to highly reliable intelligence, their strongest opponent fell off his broom at the very beginning of yesterday's training, which will definitely affect his performance in today's game.

After a loud clap of thunder, Flint, in the Slytherin Common Room, raised his clenched fist and exclaimed, "This year is the best year ever!"

Wayne's crappy rabbit broom is broken, but if we can overcome today's terrible weather, victory is ours!

Down with Wayne!

"A brutal massacre of Gryffindor!"

"Shave their heads!"

Amidst the rumble of thunder, one person did not join in the cheering.

He is Draco.

Unlike his teammates, who seemed to have already won the game, he still felt that something was amiss about what happened yesterday.

Wayne, that sly bastard, how could he not know they'd been spying on the training?

Unless it was intentional.

But news of his fall yesterday had spread throughout the school, and he happened to be there when he was carried into the Hospital Wing, so it didn't seem like he was faking it at all.

You're probably overthinking it.

They've been fighting since the start of the semester, and he's finally found an opportunity.

The tables have turned, and the Slytherin Quidditch Team stormed onto the field with great momentum.

Despite the raging wind and rain, their faces showed no fear, and they were all full of confidence.

Hermione, holding a small yellow umbrella, watched indifferently as the Gryffindor Quidditch Team entered the stadium from the stands.

Those who play tactics are all dirty-minded, especially someone who makes excuses for being lazy.

Madam Hooch blew her whistle, and the game officially began.

"Long——"

The moment the Quaffle shot out of the box, a ghostly figure overlapped with the lightning that had just struck.

Despite the torrential rain and fierce winds, the Quaffle successfully passed through the Slytherin goal, earning Gryffindor 10 points.

The Little Snakes stared wide-eyed, unable to believe what had just happened.

How could someone fall from such a height and be fine overnight?

Wayne isn't human, is he a monster?

Also, what happened to your promise that you weren't used to the new broom?

Flint gritted his teeth angrily, "Fuck! We've all been fooled!"

Wood, the goalkeeper on the other side, raised a finger high and shouted some unpleasant words.

Even in the pouring rain, when he couldn't hear or see clearly, Flint still knew that the guy was cursing "scatterers".

My blood pressure spiked immediately.

He rode the Nimbus 2000, sponsored by the Malfoy family, and flew towards Vincent with all his might.

Unfortunately, they arrived too late; the Quaffle had already been put back in the net.

"Aaaaaah!" Flint roared madly.

Rain lashed his face Vincent reached up to brush his wet hair back, then beckoned forward with his finger.

The next second, the rampaging gorilla came crashing down.

As expected, Gryffindor scored another 10 points.

The competition isn't over until the Golden Snitch is caught.

In the pouring rain, both Seeker knew how important their mission was.

One side must catch the Golden Snitch before the other side scores 150 points, while the other side needs to constantly interfere.

According to Wood's tactics, Slytherin would definitely be furious after realizing they had been tricked, and their mentality would gradually become anxious.

Wizards are human too, and the more anxious they are, the more likely they are to make mistakes.

Wearing waterproof goggles, Harry didn't have to do anything; he could just fly around Draco aimlessly.

"Get out of here, Potter!"

Gryffindor scores another 10 points.

The thunder rumbled, and the Little Snakes' inner thoughts rumbled along with it.

Under the huge black umbrellas of the Slytherin audience stands

A black figure stood up abruptly, his long hair, instantly soaked by the downpour, clung to his sallow face, making him appear even more greasy.

Snape angrily flicked a handful of hair that was stuck to his face. "Cheating! I strongly suspect Wayne drank some forbidden Potions!"

His stern complaint was ignored by the referee, Madam Hooch.

Although McGonagall, who was holding a small parasol, didn't say it, she was already overjoyed inside.

Who says Gryffindor don't use their brains? They've completely outmaneuvered Slytherin.

Dumbledore, standing on the high platform, smiled and stroked the chain pendant on his left wrist.

It seems he gained a lot from Nurmengard.

Returning our attention to the match, Vincent was undoubtedly the focus of the entire game.

The rain soaked his clothes, and his wet hair was lifted up once again.

The girls immediately erupted in a scream that was no less deafening than thunder.

Hermione unconsciously narrowed her eyes.

Her small hands, holding the umbrella, gripped the handle tightly, her radar-like gaze sweeping across the room.

Daphne, standing next to her, laughed and nudged her with her elbow, saying, "You've got quite a few competitors, huh? If you don't work harder, you'll be snatched away!"

Hermione turned her head away angrily, "Whoever wants to take it can take it."

Despite her words, her eyes kept wandering back and forth across the audience seats, as if trying to remember a few people who were shouting the loudest.

She panicked, she panicked.

Daphne stopped teasing.

Every time I see Vincent lately, I notice that he seems to have grown taller and more handsome.

His once youthful face has matured, making him far more mature than any of the boys in his grade.

The side effects of the Time-Turner are not entirely bad.

Outside the stadium, Jormungandr was perched on a large tree.

Little Black stretched its neck and stood under the tree, Gu Gu and Crookshanks stood on its broad back.

On a rainy day, with all the teachers and students watching the game, it was the perfect time to stir things up.

"Coo—" Gu Gu's little paws lightly tread, and one of its little wings points towards the castle, just like a brave general charging into battle against the enemy in ancient times.

Little Black completely ignored it, still focused intently on the arena.

"Gurgle!"

I got annoyed and decided to shake them both off.

The agile Crookshanks landed safely, but the chubby Gu Gu was in trouble.

Its sexy, large rear end slammed heavily into the mud, splashing dirty mud onto VC's soft, fluffy brown feathers.

After a string of owl curses, Little Black raised its strong claws and impatiently brushed aside its round face.

I was so angry and cold I cried. My dog had actually rebelled.

Gu Gu squinted its big eyes, probably plotting how to get revenge.

Little Black Hei shivered inexplicably, then continued watching the game.

It only took 150 minutes, and even in the pouring rain, it took less than an hour.

But its yellow eyes didn't seem to be paying attention to that; instead, they were swaying along closely with Harry was using the swaying tactic.

Another chill passed, Gu Gu and cursing became noticeably quieter.

"Meow—" Crookshanks crouched down, as if on guard.

Jormungandr looked into the distance at a dark, heavy cloud.

There seems to be something terrifying there.

Animals are highly alert to danger, and this is not just due to instinctive fear.

An overwhelming sense of despair, both chilling and strangely familiar, grew stronger.

Danger was approaching, and even Master Gu Gu lost his desire to cause trouble.

The dark, heavy cloud slowly grew larger, as if it were multiplying.

No, those are countless Little Black; they are the Dementors task force responsible for hunting down Sirius Black Black.