Terence suddenly burst out from the side, his broom cutting in an arc in front of Harry's path, blocking her from the goal, trying to hinder Harry movement, and even intending to make a physical confrontation.
He leaned forward slightly, as if making some kind of prediction, his posture carrying a kind of malicious certainty.
Harry's broom veered to the right, skirting around Terence's left side with fluid and precise movements.
Terence adjusted his direction almost simultaneously, tilting the broom at an angle perfectly parallel to Harry's, like a moving wall.
The two flew past the goalpost side by side, so close that Herman could see the air currents from the tips of their brooms swirling into a tangled mess.
Harry didn't slow down; instead, she did something that caught everyone in the stands completely off guard.
She pressed down hard on the broom handle, and she and the broom plummeted downwards like a stone falling from the sky.
Terence's broom didn't have time to fall with him and continued to slide forward for a while due to inertia.
Harry steadied her broom close to the lawn, then circled around Terence from below, at such a tricky angle that Terence had no time to adjust his posture.
When Harry raised her broom, she had already circled around to the other side of the goal, where no one was defending.
Her gaze swept across every corner of the court; clearly, she hadn't forgotten her duty—to search for the Golden Snitch.
Soon, about ten meters behind the goalpost, a tiny, almost invisible golden spot flashed in the afternoon sunlight.
Without hesitation, Harry spun the broom sharply and rushed straight toward the point of light.
Her body was slumped over the broom, her long robe billowing behind her in the wind, her red hair whipping back in the air like a burning line across the stadium.
In the decisive moment, Draco's attention was finally drawn to the railing in the stands. She gripped the edge of the railing tightly, her knuckles turning white.
Terence caught up with Harry, and realizing he was being left behind, he accelerated with all his might, his broom whistling sharply through the air.
But Harry had already reached out her hand, her fingertips less than an arm's length away from the golden dot of light.
The golden Golden Snitch flapped its wings and turned, darting towards a densely packed area of players. Harry pursued closely, weaving through the gap between Flint and two other players, passing under Marcus's broom, and with a final dive and sharp turn, she caught the glimmer of light in her hand at the edge of the field.
The entire movement was completed in one smooth motion, taking only a few seconds.
Draco jumped up in the stands, her voice mostly drowned out by the wind on the field, but Herman could clearly hear her shouting "Goal! Goal!"
No, Golden Snitch aren't allowed in, but who cares at this point?
Harry steadied her broom in mid-air above the court, raising the hand holding the Golden Snitch with a natural and confident air.
But her opponents clearly have no intention of admitting defeat so easily.
Terence flew up from behind her, his broom moving much faster than before. He nearly hit Harry when he reached her, and the two were so close that Harry's red hair was almost whipped across his face by the airflow.
His face was ashen, his lips were pressed into a thin line, and the look in his eyes went beyond the realm of normal wins and losses.
Herman saw Terence's hand reach inside his robe.
He was in the stands, and from that angle, he had a clearer view Harry herself.
Terence's hand reached towards his waist, where there was a prominent bulge—a wand.
Draco was still happily patting the railing, while Herman had already taken a step forward, about to remind Harry.
But before Terence could fully draw his wand, Harry moved.
Herman moved faster than he had imagined.
The hand that was gripping the Golden Snitch loosened its grip, leaving the broom hanging in mid-air without a care.
With her other hand, she produced a wand from who-knows-where, the dark shaft twirling slightly between her fingers before she swung it toward Terence.
A plume of black smoke billowed from the tip of the staff, so thick it resembled liquid ink exploding in the air, and quickly swept towards Terence.
As the black smoke flew, it began to Transfiguration, with the edges first coalescing into an outline, and then into limbs and a head.
Before anyone could react, the cloud of black smoke had already landed on Terence, and two black figures leaped out of the smoke, their four claws gripping Terence's broom handle and robe firmly.
Two black dogs.
They were a size larger than ordinary hunting dogs, their fur was as black as the moonless sky at night, and their eyes gleamed with a dark light.
One of them bit Terence's wrist, while the other lunged at him from the side and bit his thigh; the sharp teeth showed the force of the bite even through the fabric.
Terence let out a scream that was almost inhuman, and his whole body writhed violently on the broom.
The two black dogs held on tightly, and Terence's robe was quickly torn in several places, revealing clear teeth marks on his exposed skin. Blood seeped out along those marks, staining the fabric a dark brown.
His broom lost its balance in the chaos, bounced up and down a few times, and then fell to the ground, hitting it directly.
Terence fell to the ground, the broom snapping in two, while the two black dogs remained draped over him, tearing at him with even greater force than before.
His screams echoed far across the empty stadium; several players had already fallen to the ground, but no one dared to approach.
Marcus stood a few meters away, his expression extremely complicated. His mouth opened and closed, as if he wanted to shout "Stop!" but didn't know what to say. He wanted to go forward and pull the two dogs apart but was afraid they would turn around and bite him.
The Prefect had already run over from the sideline, his footsteps echoing rapidly on the grass, but Harry didn't look at him.
She stood beside the broom, her hands hanging at her sides, her wand still in her palm, her gaze indifferently fixed on Terence.
The two black dogs still wouldn't let go, and Terence's screams had turned into intermittent cries. A line of blood was trickling from under his sleeve onto the grass.
" Potter!" The Prefect's voice was much louder than usual, with a tone that urged him to "stop now."
Harry glanced at him, as if weighing whether he was worth giving her face, then her lips moved slightly, and the two black dogs simultaneously released their mouths, their bodies dispersing into two wisps of black smoke that drifted back towards her wand and merged into the tip of the wand.
Terence collapsed to the ground, clutching the wound on his arm, which was still bleeding. His training clothes were torn to shreds, revealing the purple skin underneath from being bitten.
He looked up in Harry's direction, his eyes filled with a mixture of fear and hatred, but his lips trembled and no sound came out.