The Essence of Quidditch: A Clash Between Civilization and Savagery

"You!" Draco and the pure-bloods around him were trembling.

They wanted to argue back, but they could not muster a single word of rebuttal.

Pure-bloods, especially the Twenty-Eight Families, had even resorted to marrying close relatives to maintain their numbers, yet their population still kept plummeting.

The wizarding wars had dealt an even heavier blow to pure-blood families, whose numbers had already been at a disadvantage.

"Damn grind king." Draco's teeth itched.

He was clearly a wizard from the Muggle world, yet he knew the history of the wizarding world so well. He must have actually finished reading A History of Magic.

Damn it! Why did Hogwarts even have History? Wasn't that just making him look bad?

Having been struck where it hurt, some of the pure-bloods in Slytherin could no longer hold back. They had just started forward, intending to teach him a lesson.

"What do you blond birdmen think you're doing?" Harry stepped forward, his strong body shielding Tom.

When the young pure-bloods saw Harry roll up his sleeves and reveal the lean muscles beneath, they all felt a chill run down their spines.

If a fight broke out, their skinny arms and legs would probably be snapped in half by Harry as easily as brooms.

In the tense standoff, Draco suddenly noticed a flash by his feet.

He bent down and picked it up. It was a transparent crystal ball, and its design looked very familiar. "A Memory Ball? I remember this belonged to that big idiot."

Neville patted his pockets. It seemed to have fallen out when he had flown into the air earlier. "That was a gift from my grandmother. Give it back! Give it back!"

Before Neville could approach, Draco had already straddled his broom.

He took off from the spot.

"If you want it, come and get it yourself."

Get it?

How was he supposed to get it when his broom was broken?

That was clearly asking the impossible.

The moment he instinctively looked to Tom for help, Tom had already mounted his own broom and taken off.

This was a perfect chance to build his persona.

The more he showed himself off and won people's approval, the more Tom gained—not merely in terms of strength, but also by building up his "credit."

There was a famous little tale in the Muggle world called The Boy Who Cried Wolf. Its message was that people who lied too often would gradually lose others' trust. But that message could also be viewed in reverse...

If someone told the truth often enough, then even if he suddenly lied one day, others would take that lie for the truth.

So for Tom, in terms of cost-effectiveness, being a brave and benevolent person was certainly more profitable than being a villain.

"Wait, Tom! Madam Hooch said we aren't allowed to fly without permission. You'll definitely be punished for this!" Hermione called anxiously from below.

Draco's family sat on the board of governors, so he would not face much punishment no matter how far he went at school. But Tom, who had no background, was different.

Tom ignored her.

What a joke. What punishment could he possibly receive?

Would the school dare expel him?

He could tell that Dumbledore was terrified he might become the Dark Lord, which was why he had privately promised him a huge amount of scholarship money as encouragement and support.

Once this was over, the harshest punishment would be a meaningless deduction of points.

The consequences of losing points would be borne by all of Slytherin, not him alone.

Using Slytherin's points to build his own credit—that was the true shortcut in life.

Seeing Tom stand up for Neville, the remaining young Gryffindors could no longer hold back either.

"One of us Gryffindors is being bullied. How can we rely on an outsider alone? Let's go too!"

Someone shouted, and every Gryffindor mounted a broom. Recalling the flying techniques Madam Hooch had explained earlier, they all tried to take off.

"Wait! If all of you join in, Gryffindor's points will be deducted to nothing!" Hermione panicked.

Back in Muggle school, she had always been an outstanding student. She truly wanted that House Cup, which represented supreme honor.

However, no one there paid her any attention.

The enemy had come right to their doorstep. How could they cower like turtles?

Seeing all of Gryffindor mobilize, the young Slytherins were not about to be pushed around either. They all mounted their brooms.

Harry and Ron naturally joined in as well, though they were helping Gryffindor.

Although Slytherin had fewer students than Gryffindor, the pure-bloods had family traditions. Most had been exposed to flying brooms from a young age, making them generally far more skilled in the air than Gryffindor.

So even though they were outnumbered, victory was not impossible.

And so, a great battle between Gryffindor and Slytherin began.

"What do we do?" Daphne stood on the ground, looking at the empty space beside her.

By all rights, she should have helped her own House, but Tom was on the opposing side, and she could not bring herself to act against him.

With no other choice, she could only stay where she was and watch, helping neither side.

Hermione from the neighboring house was much the same.

With one fewer person involved, there would be one fewer person losing points afterward. Naturally, she would not make a move alongside them.

The two girls looked at each other from several meters apart, both seeing the helplessness in the other's eyes.

They were practically a pair of star-crossed lovers.

In the sky.

"Ha ha ha, Tom, can you catch me?" Draco flew high overhead, his face twisted in a cruel grin.

When it came to flying, he was undoubtedly more proficient than most children.

After being stifled for so long, he could finally surpass Tom in at least one area.

He was determined to use this chance to toy with that guy properly.

"You'll have to land eventually, won't you? Have you figured out how you're going to survive in the dormitory afterward?" Tom's voice was calm.

"Uh..." Draco's smile froze at once.

That was right. He couldn't possibly live in the sky forever, could he?

At that moment, the young Draco suddenly gained an insight, understanding the consequences that impulsiveness could bring.

But he had already acted on impulse. Besides, all the Slytherins had sprung into action as well. If he backed down now, he would never be able to hold his head up in pure-blood circles again.

Though he felt like he was being roasted over a fire, he still had to put on a domineering front.

"Come on! If you've got what it takes, snatch this ball from me! Let me see whether your Quidditch talent is as extraordinary as that brute strength of yours!"

Draco hovered in midair, gripping his wand and using the Floating Charm to make the Memory Ball circle back and forth around him.

Tom was actually flying toward him.

With a flick of his wand—

the Memory Ball shot off to one side.

"Ha ha! The ball isn't with me anymore~"

The moment he said that, the smile on Draco's face froze solid.

Because instead of being led around by the nose to chase the Memory Ball, Tom continued flying straight at him, moving faster and faster.

He was done for!

Draco suddenly remembered that Quidditch was not a purely civilized sport, but a clash between civilization and savagery.

An excellent Quidditch player had not only the ball in his sights, but also the opposing players. As long as all the opposing players were eliminated, victory could still be won.

"Damn it, is this guy really a Quidditch genius? He's clearly never watched Quidditch, yet he's grasped its secrets without anyone teaching him."

By now, it was already very difficult for Draco to dodge.

Tom's flying speed had accelerated to such an extent that it would be extremely hard for Draco to accelerate from a standstill.

Meanwhile.

On a path outside Hogwarts Castle.

Professor McGonagall and Madam Hooch walked together, discussing the matter of replacing the brooms.

On her way to the headmaster's office, Madam Hooch had happened to run into Professor McGonagall. As deputy headmistress, McGonagall held considerable authority at the school, and replacing the brooms would certainly need her approval. So Madam Hooch decided to discuss it with her first.

"Having the school governors fund new brooms... that is indeed a good suggestion." As Professor McGonagall considered the proposal's feasibility, she suddenly noticed something.

"By the way, isn't it the first-years who are having Flying Class right now? Have they mastered flying techniques so quickly already?"

"Probably not?" Confused, Madam Hooch followed McGonagall's gaze toward the distant sky.

In the sky not far away, people were darting about.

It looked as though they were fighting.

Someone was even falling from the sky.

"Oh no..." Madam Hooch's heart clenched.

In less than half a lesson, she had already lost count of how many times she had worried about her teaching credentials.