So comfortable.
Having someone carry you is just the best!
Gasol and the others weren't in a hurry. They played with completely relaxed minds. Instead of scoring, they'd rather enjoy the looks of utter despair on the Bulgarian players' faces.
No wonder some tabloids said that anyone could win the championship just by playing alongside Klein.
Some fans even shouted, "Even if you replaced Gasol with my grandma, she'd still do great!"
Mm.
That wasn't wrong.
Winning without lifting a finger felt great. Keep doing it, and it just kept getting better!
"Whoosh!" "Whoosh!" "Whoosh!"
Klein was so fast, far faster than the Quaffle.
With his nearly perfect predictions, the Bulgarian players had never once come within ten meters of England's goal. The two black Bludgers were like the tongues of a machine gun, weaving an impenetrable line of defense.
The score was still zero to zero.
But the entire stadium was cheering.
A defense like this was unprecedented.
No wonder he was a genius who had changed the face of Quidditch.
After the Chasers, now the Beaters had been turned into a joke.
What was his next plan?
Would he "terrorize" the Seeker?
"This can't go on."
High above the pitch, Krum was growing anxious.
The situation on the field was grim.
His team's path to scoring had been cut off. If they wanted to win, they could only rely on him to find a breakthrough.
But every time he spotted an opening, a Bludger would come flying straight at him. By the time he'd frantically dodged it, the Golden Snitch had vanished again.
There was simply no answer to this tactic.
At one point, he'd tried a few feints to throw Klein Grindelwald off.
But that cunning kid seemed to see right through him. Every time, Krum failed