Flint scoffed beside them, muttering something under his breath. MacChlery glanced at him, then disdainfully moved two steps away from him.
The team members changed into their uniforms, then sat down, and Garrd began to continue discussing the tactical arrangements.
"Marcus, you just need to cooperate with us then, leave the rest to us!" He had no demands for Marcus.
Marcus pouted, seemingly amused.
"Cooperation? A Muggle tactic? Has a Muggle sport that can't even fly really given you any inspiration?!"
With that, he pushed Garrd away.
"I'm the captain. Now I'll set the tactics.
The tactic is—give me the Quaffle! Then you all do your jobs, that's it!"
After speaking, he picked up his broom and led the way out.
MacChlery stood up, clenching his fists, but Garrd pulled him back.
"The match is about to begin."
"Garrd, how long are you going to be a peacemaker?! Are you a softie?!" MacChlery shook his head, growling in displeasure.
With that, he grabbed his broom and strode out.
For a moment, the entire changing room was a bit awkward. Garrd gave an embarrassed laugh, shrugging indifferently, and looked at the others.
"Let's go, good luck!!"
Standing on the pitch, there wasn't much cheering from the crowd, but various boos and jeers constantly entered Harry's ears.
Harry raised an eyebrow slightly, somewhat astonished by Slytherin's predicament.
He had thought there wouldn't be much cheering, but this was truly a bit depressing…
Thinking this, his gaze fell on the staff stands.
Upon seeing the figure with silver-gray fur and triangular ears, the stone in his heart suddenly dropped, and a smile appeared on his face.
Garrd seemed to notice his change, feeling a little curious.
"Nothing, just thinking… it's time to witness the results of our training during this period," Harry said, a confident smile on his face.
Flint and Wood shook hands, then the group stood ready. At Madam Hooch's whistle, fourteen figures rapidly ascended into the leaden-gray sky amidst enthusiastic cheers.
A Bludger whizzed past Harry's head by a hair's breadth. Fred flew past him, saying teasingly, "Watch out, we won't go easy."
Harry smiled, continuing to observe the field and search for the Golden Snitch.
Lee Jordan's commentary was always unique and very pointed.
The Quaffle was immediately snatched by Gryffindor's Angelina Johnson—she really flew all the way, a beautiful pass to Alicia Spinnet—
The ball was passed to Johnson again—intercepted!! Slytherin's Pucey interfered with a Bludger!
The Slytherin team snatched the Quaffle, and Slytherin's captain, Marcus Flint, got the Quaffle and flew away—
Slytherin's Garrd was calling for the ball; his position was wide open, a very easy goal, it's their new tactic—wait!
Flint flew like an eagle above—he ignored Garrd, he shot!!
—Beautiful, Wood made a beautiful move and intercepted the ball. Now Gryffindor has possession—why didn't Flint pass the ball to others? Otherwise, it would have been almost certainly a goal, strange—
—That's Gryffindor's Chaser Katie Bell, darting agilely around Flint in the air above the pitch—Pucey got the Bludger, powerful interference—Flint got the Quaffle with cooperation—
Wait, a collision—foul!!
After getting the ball, Flint took the opportunity to crash into Katie Bell sideways. Her flying broom suddenly veered off course, but Flint, true to his Troll-like reputation, was like a cannonball—Katie crashed into the stands, then tumbled down onto the grass below.
"Foul!" the Gryffindors shouted loudly, and the entire stadium erupted in boos. "Red card! Send him off!!"
"Sorry, there's no such rule as a send-off!" Lee Jordan explained helpfully, "So this is pure thuggery—"
"Jordan!" Professor McGonagall's face was very displeased, but she still reminded Jordan to be fair in his commentary and not to let personal emotions interfere!
In the air above the pitch, the intersecting figures stopped, waiting for Madam Hooch to check on Katie Bell's condition.
Flint twirled the Quaffle like a basketball on his finger, looking at Garrd provocatively.
"One down!"
After speaking, he looked at Pucey, "Nice cooperation…"
Pucey's face was dark; he just wanted to cooperate in getting the ball, he never intended to knock someone down…
Angelina flew past the Slytherin goal, glaring fiercely at MacChlery.
"We had such friendly discussions about training grounds and times recently, and we originally thought today would be a match worth looking forward to—"
"Angelina, stop talking. Anyway, isn't Slytherin always only capable of this kind of thing? We've been used to it for so many years. Unexpected, yet within reason!
If you ask me, when they were so eager for training grounds recently, they actually didn't train at all; they just simply didn't want to let people from other houses train. That's just how they are."
"Bullshit! Do you really need to tell us whether we trained or not?!"
MacChlery's face was flushed, clearly furious. He himself practiced with a heavier, faster Bludger as a Quaffle at the goal, often ending up bruised all over, and the result was—
"Was I wrong? If you trained, why are you pulling these dirty tricks? One penalty shot to get rid of an opponent directly; you do this every year, who doesn't know!"
The whistle blew again. Katie Bell was out of the match, and Gryffindor was awarded a penalty shot.
MacChlery watched Angelina on the opposite side throw the ball, veins throbbing uncontrollably on his forehead, the words of the person opposite him echoing repeatedly in his mind.
The red Quaffle flew straight through the goal.
"MacChlery didn't intercept at all! Gryffindor scores! What is he doing?!"
-------------------------------
I've already uploaded 70 chapters of this story on Patreon!
If you enjoy it, come check out the latest chapters in advance.
Here's the link:
[email protected]/Rexlent
Thank you so much for your support!!!
"And If you're enjoying it, drop a Power Stone for me!"