Despite Dobby's relentless efforts to "protect Harry," Hermione's persistent countermeasures rendered his actions ineffective.
Once Hermione got into her rhythm, casting spells became almost second nature. Various control charms and displacement spells flowed effortlessly from her wand.
But that wasn't what made the young witch truly remarkable.
Hermione's real strength lay in her ability to maintain precise control over her magical output, even while casting spells at high frequency. This level of control allowed her, a mere second-year witch, to punch far above her weight.
For every spell she cast, Hermione ensured it delivered twice its usual effectiveness. She discarded impractical ideas and strategies to minimize both magical and mental exhaustion.
But that wasn't all. While focusing on herself and the rogue Bludger in the sky, Hermione also adjusted her tactics in real-time based on the flow of her opponent's magic.
Unknowingly, the young witch had achieved three simultaneous streams of operation.
Even so, time was running out for Harry to catch the Golden Snitch and turn the game around.
The score had climbed to 170-40, with Slytherin leading Gryffindor by a wide margin.
Fortunately, with Hermione's help, Harry was no longer harassed by the rogue Bludger. George and Fred, now free from guarding Harry, joined the team's defense and offense. Gryffindor began to claw back points, slowly and steadily, despite the overwhelming pressure from Slytherin's Nimbus 2001 broomsticks.
But it wasn't enough. Slytherin's scoring efficiency far outpaced Gryffindor's.
"Damn it… I mean, great play! Slytherin scores again! The gap widens to 140 points. Time is running out for Gryffindor! Come on, Harry! Take them down!" Lee Jordan's passionate commentary echoed through the stadium. Though heavily biased, his eloquence successfully roused the crowd's enthusiasm.
Even as rain poured and wind howled, and with both teams nearing the limits of their endurance, the players remained fully immersed in the match.
But exhaustion was inevitable. Slytherin's continued scoring and the players' dwindling stamina were only a matter of time.
Hermione, too, was reaching her limit. Her magic, energy, and physical strength were gradually depleting as time ticked on. Glenn, closely monitoring her condition, was ready to step in and make her stop.
Time was truly running out for Gryffindor. Finally free from the rogue Bludger's interference, Harry could fully showcase his extraordinary Quidditch talent. It was as if shackles had been removed. He weaved and darted through the chaotic field, his eyes scanning every direction for the Golden Snitch while keeping a close watch on Draco's movements.
Draco, however, was no slouch. While his natural Quidditch talent couldn't quite match Harry's, his physical conditioning and relentless training had granted him exceptional dynamic vision and bodily control. His flying skills on his Nimbus 2001 were every bit as impressive as Harry's.
Though grudgingly, Draco admitted to himself that he could never perform at this level during regular training sessions.
Now, in the heat of competition, he was in a state of exhilaration. His pale face was flushed red, and every system within his finely-tuned body—circulatory, respiratory, endocrine—was operating at peak efficiency in pursuit of victory.
With top-tier internal performance and the latest external equipment in the form of the Nimbus 2001, Draco held a slight but crucial edge over Harry. This advantage allowed him to dominate their Seeker duel, dictating the pace of the game.
Every move Draco made—whether it was a feint, a sprint, or a climb—demanded Harry's full attention.
Could Harry afford not to follow?
He couldn't. Harry couldn't risk assuming Draco's actions were mere bluffs. Until he saw the Golden Snitch with his own eyes, he couldn't take that chance.
He couldn't afford to.
This stalemate forced Harry to match Draco's every maneuver, significantly increasing the difficulty of spotting the Snitch and draining his stamina.
Relentless feints, dives, climbs, and sharp turns pushed Harry to his physical limits.
"Doesn't this guy ever get tired?!" Harry gasped for air, his eyes darting frantically around before snapping back to Draco's every move. The cycle repeated, and under the strain of rapid physical and mental exhaustion, the world around Harry began to spin.
Meanwhile, Draco smirked, his plan unfolding perfectly.
Harry's fatigue was exactly what Draco had anticipated. Thanks to Glenn's training, Draco knew his stamina far exceeded Harry's. He wasn't worried about Harry trailing him closely.
It was all for nothing.
"After all… I'm just wearing you down," Draco sneered.
As Harry's declining state became visibly apparent, Draco's lips curled into a triumphant grin.
Cheers erupted from the Slytherin stands once more. Without even looking back, Draco knew the score gap had widened to 150 points.
The time had come.
Draco abruptly accelerated, leaving Harry behind as he shot skyward, rising above everyone else.
Draco had never felt so focused in his life.
Everything on the field was crystal clear in his vision: the ripples on George Weasley's face as he swung his bat, Marcus Flint's grimace as he dodged a Bludger, Wood's flushed face and neck as he barked commands, Harry's labored breaths forming white puffs in the cold air as he chased after him, and…
…that familiar glint of gold he had seen so many times in his dreams.
Draco had spotted the Golden Snitch.
All thoughts vanished from his mind, leaving only one: to seize that golden glimmer.
Draco moved, streaking through the sky like a falling star as he dove toward the Snitch on his broomstick.
"Block him…"
"Damn it…"
"Cover Draco…"
"Hold them off…"
The roaring wind drowned out the shouts of opponents and teammates alike.
Closer. Closer.
Draco reached out his hand.
~~~~❃❃~~~~~~~~❃❃~~~~
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