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It was a very intense game of Quidditch. The only reason why was because Gryffindor and Slytherin were the teams playing. The Houses at Hogwarts had always been rivals, so competition between the two Houses was always fierce. Today was no different.
I personally thought Quidditch was an okay sport, so why not try out for it? I made the team, but I think it was only because Slytherin's Quidditch Captain, Marcus Flint, found me to be attractive. If he thought I was interested in him, he was gravely mistaken. I wasn't into anybody—well, not in Slytherin anyway.
I was Keeper for Slytherin's team. So far I let two goals past. Nobody's perfect, right? I shook stray strands of pale blonde hair away from my face that had escaped my ponytail. I had to focus on the Quaffle. I didn't pay attention to the Seekers of each team, because that wasn't my job. My job was to protect the three hoops I was hovering in front of.
I saw whips of green and red as children in the Quidditch pitch roared for either Gryffindor or Slytherin to win. Mainly people cheered for Gryffindor. It's obvious to see which House was liked the least amongst the four. Sadly, that was the House I was placed in when I was in my first year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
My smoky grey eyes shifted quickly as I kept track of the Quaffle, even if it was on the other side of the pitch. Gryffindor's Keeper distracted me. He had to be the most obsessed person when it came to the wizard sport. He was in my year, fifth. The funny thing is, I was in love with the bloke.
I saw a terrible sight before my eyes, snapping my focus briefly away from Oliver Wood. Marcus took one of our Beater's bats, and smacked a Bludger towards Oliver. I gasped, nearly falling off my broom as I was so startled. Oliver flew into one of the hoops, falling ungracefully to the sand below, his broom not too far from him. I cast a glance at the Slytherins who were supporting us. They were laughing, thinking it was some kind of joke. Amongst those who were laughing was my brother, Draco Malfoy.
He was only a first year, four years younger than me. He fit right in at Slytherin House. He was like our parents, snotty and only cared about our pure-blood status. I was the only Malfoy who didn't.
I wasn't sure what blood status Oliver was, but that meant nothing to me. I loved him, but who was I kidding? Everybody viewed Slytherins as cunning, rotten kids. Nobody would ever think that one Slytherin actually had a decent heart. I believed that the only reason why I was stuck in Slytherin was because of my pure-blood.
I wanted to abandon my post as Keeper and sweep down to go make sure Oliver was okay, but I knew I was going hear it from Marcus if I did. Reluctantly, I stayed at my post as I watched Slytherin score two goals by cheating. I am so quitting the team after this. I'm not going to play in their cheating ways, I thought bitterly.
I saw Gryffindor's newest Seeker, Harry Potter, reaching for the Snitch. At this point, I didn't care who won this Quidditch game. My eyes constantly flickered to Oliver's unconscious form in the sand. The moment whichever team won, I would immediately go down to help him.
