157: Firebolt and Firebolt

157: Firebolt and Firebolt

In April, the diligent students had already started preparing for their exams.

Tom was chewing on a wand-shaped teething stick, a defective product from one of John's failed attempts at crafting.

He figured it would be a waste to throw it out, so he repurposed it as a chewing toy for Tom.

It had to be said, the quality was impressive—Tom had been gnawing on it for over a year, and it was still as sturdy as ever.

John glanced at the dog, grounded for two months, then picked up his book and left.

Tom wagged her tail, wanting to follow, but Basil unfurled his wings dramatically, making Tom retreat.

When Daphne saw John coming out, she naturally joined him and asked with some concern, "Still not letting Tom out?"

John used to let the dog run around freely, but it had been locked up for two months now, which showed just how upset he was.

"It lost a wand.."

'And gave it to Black without even thinking about me' he added in his mind.

''so it needs to take responsibility."

When they reached the Great Hall, John sat down, and Daphne eagerly took out her latest creation.

This time, she had tried her hand at Eastern cuisine and had even asked a wizard from overseas to get her a proper setup.

"This is called cheung fun, a type of breakfast dish from China," Daphne announced proudly. This time, she hadn't failed; in fact, she had done exceptionally well.

John looked intrigued. After trying things like strawberry pizza recently, surely this cheung fun couldn't have fruit in it, right?

Though John couldn't taste, experiencing a spicy dish's smell was still enjoyable for a foodie like him.

As he looked expectantly at the covered dish, Daphne confidently lifted the lid.

"...Daphne, be honest with me—who exactly taught you how to cook?"

John stared blankly at the plate of chocolate-filled Rice noodle roll, feeling a mix of emotions.

Daphne looked puzzled; she had tasted it herself and thought it was sweet and delicious.

"It's from a recipe I bought from a wizard with the last name Chen. Why?"

John sincerely replied, "Could you tell me his address? I'd like to send him a gift."

He was set on it: as soon as he had the address, he'd send Tommy and his people to finish that scoundrel off.

Daphne tilted her head, looking adorably confused. "I actually don't know where he lives."

Well, what a pity.

He could have rid China of a maniac, but the guy had escaped in advance.

Judging by her skill level, she'd clearly been practicing this for quite a while.

Just then, Malfoy came running over, looking a bit guilty, as if he'd done something to let John down.

"John, I heard Tom lost your wand before?" Malfoy looked uncharacteristically awkward, fidgeting like a bashful debutante. "It's not that serious, right? Maybe you could let him off?"

John was surprised—since when did Malfoy care about his dog?

Could it be that after walking the dog a few times while he'd been too busy, Malfoy had developed a soft spot?

John's expression turned cold. "If she made a mistake, she has to face the consequences. Surely, I don't need to explain that again, do I?"

Malfoy forced a smile and hurried off to another table.

"What's up with him?" John turned to ask Heinrich, who had been quietly observing the scene.

Heinrich paused, looking off in another direction, and said, "Today is the Slytherin vs. Gryffindor Quidditch final."

John suddenly understood—no wonder Malfoy was rushing over to discuss tactics with his teammates.

Heinrich's gaze was still fixed intently in one direction.

Following his line of sight, John saw the Weasley twins quickly duck their heads.

Ron yelled, "Impossible! How did he get one?"

It was hard to accept, and silence fell over the Gryffindor side.

The Firebolt they had considered their secret weapon had lost its advantage. It was now one king against another.

This match's outcome would rest entirely on Harry.

Gryffindor's gear was far inferior to those six Nimbus 2001s, and they could only hope Harry would catch the Golden Snitch.

The match began.

Brooms soared into the sky.

Malfoy hovered close to Harry, sneering with a mocking glint in his eyes. "Potter, you're not the only one who can get special help."

At this, Malfoy nearly ground his teeth.

Why did Harry Potter get every privilege?

He joined the Quidditch team as a first-year, had a broom gifted to him by Professor McGonagall, and the moment he joined, he became the team's shining star and center of attention.

Malfoy, on the other hand, had to rely on his father's sponsorship to join the team, and when they lost a match, he had to put up with all kinds of criticism.

Was it simply because Harry was the "Chosen One"?

Or just because Dumbledore liked him?

Points flowed his way effortlessly; if it hadn't been for John, Slytherin's glorious nine-year winning streak would've already been shattered.

Slytherin didn't have Dumbledore.

But...

We have John Wick!

Recalling his own relentless daily training and the grueling practice even during holidays, Malfoy took a deep breath, and his gaze turned resolute.

Harry sensed something different about Malfoy.

Or perhaps, Malfoy had been changing all along, but Harry had simply never paid much attention to him.

His body had grown stronger, his flying skills improved, and his grades went up.

Unknowingly, Malfoy had changed so much.

Without another word, both of them grew more focused than ever.

The game itself was intense—Slytherin's dirty moves met with the Weasley Bludger counterattacks, and the teams nearly came to blows.

Wood guarded Gryffindor's goalposts; his skill was so good that even with Nimbus 2001 brooms, Slytherin found it hard to score.

Slytherin Chaser Montague fouled Katie, blocking her from intercepting the Quaffle.

Lee Jordan's commentary was filled with excitement; he even forgot that Slytherin's Head of House was right behind him, letting words like "dirty" and "shameless" fly out of his mouth.

Professor McGonagall looked displeased, while Snape, stone-faced, pulled Lee Jordan away and sat Ernie Macmillan in his place.

"If you can't provide fair and impartial commentary, then we'll replace you," Snape's razor-sharp glare made Lee suddenly remember he was there.

Professor McGonagall couldn't argue since Lee was clearly biased.

Lee tried to get back to the commentary, but Goyle and Crabbe flanked him, towering over him on either side. With his slight frame, there was no way he could escape.

Ernie was a little dazed at first, but his talkative nature and love of attention soon took over.

He quickly got into the role, speaking without bias toward either Gryffindor or Slytherin.

Then, in the heat of the game, the Golden Snitch appeared.

Two pairs of eyes locked onto it simultaneously.

___________

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