[179] The Grasp of Winter

"I'm not the starting Keeper this year." Wood slapped Ron on the shoulder. "Ron Weasley is."

Ron stumbled but steadied himself, grinning at Flint.

Flint's face fell. He'd given up Seeker to be Beater so he could score on Wood personally. Now this.

"You look like a boiled chicken. Your goal's getting destroyed this year." Flint waved. "Let's go eat."

Hall blinked. "We were about to go eat."

"After hearing that, you still have an appetite? Extra training! Let's put eighty or a hundred goals past Gryffindor!"

"Give me Galleons, guaranteed win."

Flint cooled instantly.

"Want a guaranteed win service, Captain?" Hall asked with interest.

"...Go eat, you second-year brat." Flint walked away like a ghost was chasing him.

Wood stared at Hall, shocked. He knew how serious Flint was about Quidditch. Hall scared him off with a few words?

"I won't let you win again this year." Wood's face twitched recalling last year. But he acknowledged Hall's ability. Hall was a Weasley — one of them at heart, even if he wore green.

Hall nodded. "See you on the field."

Draco shoved Harry and Ron away. "Don't come near us. Two weeks."

"We'll prove Harry is the best Seeker!" Ron mimicked Draco's tone.

"Alright." Hall stepped between them. "Two weeks away. Why the threats now?"

Ron tensed.

"Three months until holidays. And exams before that." Hall smiled. "All A's is my requirement this year. Otherwise, you're back to Mum's secondhand supplies."

"No — Hall!" Ron's eyes went wide. Third year! An adult! Secondhand was unbearable.

"My Galleons, my rules."

Ron wilted. Draco laughed hysterically. Hall glanced at him — Draco stopped, looking noble.

"Don't pretend. You're hungry."

"Starving."

"Let's eat."

Harry patted Ron's shoulder. "Want me to lend you Galleons?"

"No. Even brothers settle up." Ron's conscience wouldn't allow it. "But all A's..."

"Maybe we can ask Hermione?"

Hermione smiled. "Oh, you finally remembered I'm here?"

"We'll study. I promise."

This tale has been pilfered from NovelPhoenix. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

"I'll help with your schedule." Her smile turned sharp. "But don't forget — the Quidditch match in two weeks is more important than exams."

Harry and Ron stared. Hermione? Prioritising Quidditch?

"Slytherin took the Cup last year. Gryffindor must take it this year." She clenched her fists. "This is war."

The weekend finally arrived.

Draco pounded on Hall's door at dawn. "Hall! Open up! Practice today! The match is next week!"

Hall groaned in bed. Weekends were for sleeping in. The common room was under the Black Lake — no sunlight ever reached it. Perfect for sleeping.

"I know you're awake!"

Hall dragged himself out of bed, got ready, and opened the door.

"I was about to—" Draco stopped at Hall's sullen face.

"What were you going to do?" Hall smiled dangerously.

"Uh—"

"Emotional distress. One hundred Galleons."

Draco paid.

Hall took the money. "I forgive you."

The door slammed shut an inch from Draco's nose.

"Hall! That was close! My perfect face!"

Hall yawned lazily as they walked to the pitch. "I calculated it. It wouldn't have hit you."

Draco wasn't happy.

"Let's get to the pitch first. I have a feeling something's going to happen."

As expected, the Gryffindor and Slytherin teams met at the same time.

"You despicable Flint!" Wood's nostrils flared. "McGonagall granted us the pitch!"

Flint grinned, waving a note. "Snape gave it to Slytherin this morning."

He revealed a Nimbus 2001. The rest of Slytherin did the same.

Wood's eyes bulged. "Seven Nimbus 2001s?"

The Gryffindor team used Cleansweeps. Wood himself used a Cleansweep. The twins and Ron used Cleansweep Fives. Compared to the Nimbus, they were outclassed.

"Cleansweep Fives?" Draco scoffed. "I wouldn't play with those as a child. You could sell them to a museum."

Ron's heart shattered.

The twins were unbothered. "Young Master Malfoy, care to sponsor us? Two brooms — much cheaper than Slytherin's seven."

Flint shot Draco a look. Draco composed himself. "Impossible."

Flint glared at Hall instead.

Hall shrugged. "Keep glaring and I'll start charging you."

Zabini laughed maniacally.

Flint averted his gaze. These underclassmen were all troublemakers. Hall had single-handedly won the Cup last year even after the Snitch was caught. Flint couldn't afford to offend him. Draco was untouchable too.

"Zabini Blaise!" Flint snapped. "What are you laughing at?"

"Something happy," Zabini wheezed, wiping tears.

Wood snorted. "We Gryffindors don't buy our way in, even with seven Nimbus 2001s."

The atmosphere turned sour.

"Apologise." Hall's eyes were ice-cold on Oliver Wood.

Wood knew he'd misspoken. But apologise to a Slytherin? He couldn't do it.

"Did I say something wrong? Letting a second-year kid be Seeker?"

Flint shot back before Hall could. "Harry Potter was a second-year!"

"Can Malfoy compare to Harry?"

"You're insulting me, Wood! Malfoy took over from me!"

The argument turned physical. Angelina Johnson shrugged. "Malfoy's rich, stupid, a sucker willing to spend — so what?"

Hall stared at her. "Very rich." He nodded. "Extremely rich."

Angelina blinked, caught off guard.

"I'm sorry. Malfoy might... really be rich?"

"Very rich," Hall confirmed.

Draco's expression softened — slightly.

The twins pushed forward. "Young Master Malfoy! Hall already has a Nimbus. You bought seven — that means you have a spare!"

"Can you give it to me?"

"I asked first!"

"I'm Hall's favourite brother!"

The twins joined the brawl. Flint went from one-on-one with Wood to one-on-three.

"You despicable Gryffindors!"

Professor McGonagall found them. Twenty points from each house.

"Wanting to train is good, but don't ignore others."

Flint nodded obediently. He led his team off the pitch, muttering, "She still favours Gryffindor. If only Snape's son were here — we'd still be on that pitch."

Practice began. Hall rode the Nimbus 2001 with ease. The others adjusted to the new brooms.

"The speed and feel are far beyond the Cleansweep and Comet series," Flint said, grinning with bloodthirsty excitement. "We're winning the Cup this year."

"Potter has a Firebolt." Draco's expression darkened. The Nimbus 2001 couldn't match it. "I was thinking of asking my dad for a Firebolt too."

Hall walked past. "Your Nimbus is good enough. You're not going professional."

"My dad said the same. But Potter — "

"Sirius spoils him."

Draco couldn't argue.

"My dad loves me too."

"Of course. Ron wouldn't dare ask Molly for a Nimbus 2001 without getting a rolling pin to the head. Mr Malfoy bought you seven in one go. If that's not spoiling, what is?"

Draco's expression brightened completely.

Hall shook his head. He didn't understand Quidditch love and hate.