firecracker ???

1-12

Then Harry's broom jerked.

At first, it looked like a gust of wind. Then it pitched sideways—again. And again.

Lyra sat up straighter.

"He's not doing that on purpose," Daphne said.

"No," Theo said. "That broom's fighting him."

"He's cursed!" Draco hissed. "Snape's cursing him—look! Look at Snape!"

Across the pitch, Professor Snape was indeed staring fixedly at Harry, his lips moving faintly.

"He's muttering!" Draco said. "He's jinxing the broom! I knew it!"

"Perhaps he's trying to charm it," Lyra offered, tone innocent.

Draco looked hopeful for a second.

"Or maybe it's reacting to his general presence," she added with a pointed look.

Draco groaned. "Lyra."

She held back a smirk. "His hair is a curse. Maybe it transferred."

Below, Harry was dangling from the broom with one hand.

The Gryffindor stands shrieked.

"He's going to fall," Daphne said, leaning forward.

And then—

Harry let go.

The stadium screamed.

Then gasped.

Because Harry dived. Clean, sharp, reckless—and brilliant.

He plummeted toward the ground like a bullet, hand extended—and at the last second, yanked back on the broom, arm raised.

The Snitch glinted between his fingers.

"HE'S GOT THE SNITCH! GRYFFINDOR WINS!" Lee Jordan roared.

The stands erupted.

Potter, looking dazed and triumphant, did a full lap around the pitch with the Snitch raised like a trophy. The Gryffindor crowd went wild.

Then the team lifted him onto their shoulders, spinning him in a slow, shouting circle.

"Oh, please," Pansy groaned. "He looks like he just won the World Cup."

"He's soaking this in," Daphne said.

"Absolutely loves the attention," Theo added.

From beside them, Draco hadn't spoken.

He was still staring after Harry.

Pansy caught it immediately. "Oh no. Don't tell me you're still watching."

Lyra smirked. "Does your idol make your heart swoon, Draco?"

"You were very protective earlier," Blaise added.

"You lot—!" Draco stood abruptly, cheeks flushed. "He's not my idol!"

He stormed off toward the castle.

They all burst into laughter.

Lyra, amused, hummed a soft little tune under her breath and followed.

By the time she caught up to Draco halfway to the entrance, he was still muttering.

"—honestly, the dramatics—Snape was clearly trying to help—and they—I can't stand them—"

"They do have flair," Lyra said.

He glared sideways at her.

"Come now," she said sweetly. "I'm tired. Piggyback?"

"I hate you."

"You love me."

"I tolerate you."

"You love me."

Draco groaned, but crouched anyway. "You're most annoying."

She climbed onto his back, graceful as always, and he hoisted her up.

The others howled with laughter as they caught up.

Blaise clapped him on the shoulder. "Looks like your idol made you a pack mule."

"Shut. Up," Draco said between gritted teeth.

As they reached the castle steps, Theo said, "Snape really wasn't being discreet."

"He never is," Daphne said.

"We could ask," Pansy offered.

Lyra smirked. "Or we could watch the chaos unfold."

"Let's do that," Blaise said.

And together, still laughing, they disappeared into the castle.