Battle for Glory

After Madam Rosmerta was revived, she had no memory whatsoever of those three people. To avoid damaging the bar's reputation, what had happened in the underground wine cellar was not spread around.

Time passed to a Saturday in early November, when the sky over Hogwarts hung low and cold.

A frigid wind swept gray-white clouds into circling vortices above the Quidditch pitch, like some ominous portent. The stands were already packed to capacity, with red and green scarves billowing in the wind as they faced off against one another, the air thick with hostility ready to explode at any moment.

This was Harry Potter's first time standing on the Quidditch pitch as captain.

Not as that "gifted Seeker," but as a "captain" responsible for the entire team's victories and defeats.

When he stepped onto the field with his broomstick, the Gryffindor stands erupted in cheers that were almost cathartic—expectation and unease coexisted within them.

In contrast, the Slytherin side was calm and razor-sharp.

Draco Malfoy stood at the front of the team, his green uniform snapping in the wind, his face wearing its usual mocking smile. He tilted his head slightly and exchanged a glance with Pansy Parkinson beside him.

Pansy's eyes shone with startling brightness.

This was not the excitement of an ordinary match, but an almost obsessive resolve.

—This was Draco's battle for glory.

As the House of Malfoy's future daughter-in-law, she had a responsibility to defend that glory as well!

The instant the starting whistle blew, fourteen broomsticks shot into the sky almost simultaneously.

Slytherin's formation unfolded with astonishing speed, clearly having been drilled over and over. Playing Chaser, Pansy's first charge skimmed the edge of the stands, forcefully compressing Gryffindor's defensive line.

"Has she gone mad?" Zacharias Smith couldn't help shouting from the commentator's stand.

Pansy