𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐒𝐍𝐀𝐊𝐄

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐅𝐢𝐯𝐞

Or how you'll save her

✩₊˚.⋆☾╶⃝⃤☽⋆⁺₊✧

𝓞𝓟𝓗𝓔𝓛𝓘𝓐 slipped into her Slytherin Quidditch uniform, adjusting the gloves on her hands as she glanced down at Grim, her loyal and endlessly mischievous Niffler. Grim tugged at the hem of her cloak, his tiny paws clutching at her leg with determination.

"I can't take you with me, you'd get hurt and I can't let that happen," Ophelia cooed, scratching the Niffler's chin as Grim leaned into her touch, letting out a soft purr-like sound. She chuckled, bending down to nuzzle his little head. "Stay here, alright? I'll sneak you back a snack from the Great Hall." Grim gave a half-hearted, sad squeak, watching her with large, pleading eyes as she headed out, but Ophelia knew he'd be safe back in her dorm, nestled among her things.

Walking onto the pitch with her Slytherin teammates, Ophelia felt the familiar rush of adrenaline, the crisp morning air sharp and energizing. As they approached the field, however, they found themselves face-to-face with Oliver Wood and the Gryffindor team. Oliver's voice rang out as he sized up the Slytherins. "Where do you think you're going, Flint?" Oliver demanded, eyes narrowed.

"Quidditch practice," Flint replied, his tone almost daring. The two teams stared each other down, and Ophelia exchanged a sly glance with her teammates as Oliver let out a chuckle of disbelief.

"I booked the pitch for Gryffindor today," Oliver continued, trying to stand his ground. Flint grinned, reaching into his pocket to produce a letter. "Easy, Wood. I've got a note." Oliver grabbed it, his eyebrows lifting as he read.

"I, Professor Severus Snape, do hereby give Slytherin team permission to practice today, owing to the need to train their new Seeker," Oliver read aloud. His eyes snapped back up. "You've got a new... Seeker? Who?"

The Slytherins parted to reveal Draco, who stood there with a smug smirk. Some of the Gryffindors snickered as Harry shook his head in disbelief.

"Malfoy?" Harry scoffed, grinning as if the whole thing were a joke. Draco's smirk widened. "That's right. And that's not all that's new this year." He held up his broom proudly, the polished handle glinting in the light.

"Those are Nimbus 2001s," Ron gasped, his jaw dropping. Both he and Hermes stared at the shiny brooms in disbelief. "How did you get those?" Ron asked, barely able to hide his jealousy.

Flint stepped forward with a smug smile. "A gift from Draco's father."

Ophelia glanced down at her own broom, which she'd saved up for and bought herself. The Nimbus 2001s were undoubtedly an upgrade, but she knew skill mattered more than a shiny new broomstick. But Draco wasn't done yet. "You see, Weasley," Draco sneered, "unlike some, my father can afford the best."

Hermes bristled, stepping up as he shot back, "At least no one on the Gryffindor team had to buy their way in. They got in on pure talent." His voice was cool, but Ophelia caught the smug glint in his eyes. "Oi!" Ophelia exclaimed, nudging Hermes with a playful glare. He looked at her, startled, before mouthing "Except you," with a sheepish grin. She rolled her eyes, smirking, but her amusement was cut short by Draco's next words.

"No one asked your opinion, you filthy little Mudblood," Draco sneered, his voice low and dripping with contempt. Hermes's expression faltered, and Ophelia caught the sting in his eyes.