After the ethereal girl drifted away, Draco and the others headed straight to the Quidditch pitch to begin their early preparations.
As one of the teams playing today, they had to wait in the locker room assigned to them. Besides putting on their Quidditch gear, they also needed to adjust their mindset and go over their tactics one last time...
For the newcomers, everything about this was fresh and exciting.
For Pansy, though, this wasn't just about representing her House—it was a chance to prove she was worthy of standing beside Draco.
She was the queen of the Parkinson family. Pansy had no intention of being just another pretty face.
Besides, Draco didn't need someone like that...
"So this is what Draco has to deal with before a match?"
Standing in front of the mirror, Pansy adjusted her Quidditch gear while gazing out at the stadium, which was gradually filling with noise and energy.
Unlike the spectators, she was one of the fourteen players on the field today. The pressure of that realization made her limbs stiffen.
And Draco was the captain. Pansy could hardly imagine how much pressure he must be under...
"Whew, I need to calm down. It's just Quidditch."
Smack!
Pansy lightly slapped her cheeks, drawing the attention of Goyle and Crabbe, who were clumsily trying to put on their gear.
"Boss lady?"
"It's nothing, just trying to calm my nerves. Weird… where's our captain? I don't see him anywhere."
"Draco just got called out by Professor Snape. Said he had something to ask."
"Professor Snape?"
Pansy frowned. The match was about to begin—what could Snape possibly want with Draco now?
She doubted Snape had any strategic advice to offer. He wasn't exactly skilled at Quidditch, nor did he seem to like the sport, so it wasn't likely he'd be much help.
In fact, until recently, Snape had barely shown up at the Quidditch pitch at all. It was only in the past two years that his appearances had noticeably increased.
And if you paid close attention, you'd notice that Snape only ever showed up for Gryffindor matches—as if he was specifically there to keep an eye on them.
Even Slytherin, and Draco, his godson, didn't get that kind of attention.
Anyone who didn't know better would think Snape was the Head of Gryffindor...
...
Right by the tunnel at the edge of the field, the Draco Pansy had been thinking about stood there with his Nimbus 2000 in hand. Dressed in his captain's uniform, he looked dazzling.
Snape, who had called Draco out, stood before him—but his expression didn't look too pleasant.
"Lacewing flies, crude antimony, Fluxweed, powdered Bicorn horn, and powdered grass leaves."
"..."
Snape's sudden list of potion ingredients left Draco completely bewildered. He had expected something important—were they not here for Quidditch but a Potions exam?
But soon enough, Draco noticed a probing look in Snape's eyes.
Clearly, something had happened that made Snape come to him before the match...
"These ingredients... they're all kept in your office, aren't they? So, you're saying..."
Narrowing his eyes, Snape scrutinized Draco's genuinely confused expression. Realizing he'd let concern cloud his judgment, he gave a small nod.
"Tch. So it wasn't you. Looks like I overlooked something. I didn't expect anyone else would dare mess with my things."
"..."
The misunderstanding was resolved, sure, but Draco couldn't help feeling the urge to complain.
Yes, he did often eye Snape's potion ingredients... but was he the sneaky type?
Perhaps sensing Draco's disgruntled stare, Snape—aware that he'd wronged him—paused mid-step just as he was about to leave. Indeed, by not trusting Draco, he had been in the wrong.
"Boomslang skin. Pick it up when you've got time."
"..."
Watching the swirl of Snape's black cloak as he left, Draco's mouth twitched into a strange smirk.
He had to admit, his godfather's way of apologizing was... very Slytherin.
...
This year's Quidditch season felt different.
Thanks to Lockhart being appointed as a special advisor, the tournament's format had changed.
Starting with the entrance ceremony—Lockhart had definitely added his own flair...
"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to this year's Quidditch opening match! I'm Jordan, and joining me is Professor Lockhart, this year's special advisor and our guest of honor today!"
Jordan's enthusiastic voice sent waves of cheers through the crowd of young witches and wizards. It was as if the whole stadium was finally releasing the excitement that had been pent up for weeks.
And of course, Lockhart wasn't about to miss a perfect opportunity to steal the spotlight.
"That's right! I am Professor Lockhart—recipient of the Third Class Order of Merlin, honorary member of the Dark Force Defense League, five-time winner of Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award, and your favorite Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher!!"
"Wooo!!"
"Professor Lockhart!!"
"That smile is everything!!"
"..."
Watching Lockhart stand up and wave to the crowd, Jordan's expression stiffened slightly.
As a die-hard Quidditch fan, it pained him to see the pitch overtaken by fans who didn't even understand the game. But what could he do? Lockhart wasn't just a professor anymore—he was now the tournament's special advisor...
"Ahem! Ahem! Under the guidance of Advisor Lockhart, our entrance ceremony this year has been given a fresh twist!"
Just as things were about to devolve into an autograph session, Jordan brought everyone's attention back.
"First, let's welcome last year's champions—Slytherin!!"
"Roarrr!!"
"Slytherin!"
"Draco!"
"Draco!"
"Draco!"
There was no denying it—Draco's flawless flying had won over the entire audience. Most young wizards had, at least for the moment, set aside their House rivalries and thrown their support behind the Slytherin team under his lead.
As he raised the Slytherin banner and led his team around the pitch, his pale golden figure became the focus of the stadium. Every witch and wizard in the crowd was shouting his name in excitement.
Perhaps that was the power of Draco's charisma...