The match was suspended, and everyone landed on the ground.
The Slytherins hurried over with worried looks. At least the team members were genuinely concerned.
After all, a sponsor that generous was hard to find, even with a lantern.
They were still hoping Malfoy would enjoy himself and then fork over tens of thousands of Galleons for new equipment!
If they hadn't had such poor relations with the other houses, Flint would have liked to talk to the other captains.
They could all put on an exhibition match and let Malfoy, the School Governor's son, retire with a perfect win record, preserving his title as the greatest Seeker in Hogwarts Quidditch League history. Wouldn't that be wonderful?
Afterward, they could all split the money. How great would that be?
Harley watched the near-dead Malfoy from a distance without the slightest sympathy.
In that condition, he was still nowhere near death! Even if Malfoy really died, it wouldn't stir the Demoness, who was accustomed to death.
Besides, who told him to insult Hermione? In Harley's eyes, he deserved to die!
Harley merely thought to herself that Quidditch really was a dangerous sport, only a tiny bit safer than "catching stone balls with a cauldron on your head."
When a broom's speed reached its limit, even crashing onto soft grass could make you feel Affliction.
And crashing into stone seats... It was lucky if you didn't die on the spot!
After all, there had been players who died this way in the past, and more than one.
Harley had come across such cases in several books about Quidditch. All she could say was that Malfoy was incredibly lucky.
He was unfortunate, since she had no idea how close he was to death in his current state, but it couldn't be far.
But