*43

As Slytherin's Bletch set his sights on Angelina, Hermione quietly approached from behind.

Just before he could make his move, he realized someone was beside him.

Hermione grinned mischievously, like a cunning dragon.

Bletch sensed danger, and just as he tried to speed away, a sharp voice echoed in his ear.

"Hey there!"

Hermione delivered a swift elbow to Bletch's left rib, causing sharp pain as if several bones cracked. He spun helplessly, crashing headfirst into the sand.

"Beautiful!"

The Weasley twins cheered enthusiastically for Hermione.

"You!"

Marcus, Slytherin's captain, witnessed the scene from afar, momentarily forgetting the Quaffle. Arya seized the opportunity and scored.

"Gryffindor scores ten!"

Lee Jordan announced excitedly, his voice booming.

Marcus was bewildered. Was this still the Gryffindor he knew?

This new student, Hermione, seemed to have more tricks than Slytherin.

Did she belong in the wrong house?

With two players down instantly, Slytherin's pressure doubled, shifting from offense to defense.

Seeing Hermione targeting another player, Marcus's eyes widened.

Not again?!

He quickly warned, "Watch out!"

The remaining team members, having seen Hermione's tactics, were on high alert.

When one player saw Hermione approaching, he maneuvered frantically to avoid her.

Noticing this, Hermione stopped chasing and raised her bat, timing her swing perfectly to hit the Bludger toward the target.

As the Bludger flew straight at him, the player was about to dodge when Hermione's broom emitted a blinding light.

The intense brightness nearly blinded him.

Instinctively shielding his eyes, he missed the chance to dodge, the Bludger hitting him squarely, sending him tumbling.

Darn it!

Marcus cursed inwardly.

"Cheater! She's using spells!" Marcus accused, pointing at Hermione.

Madam Hooch shook her head, casting a Sonorus charm to amplify her voice, "She didn't use a wand, and there's no evidence of spellcasting. The game continues!"

Seeing Hermione's empty hands, Marcus was baffled.

On closer inspection, he noticed a flashlight-like device on Hermione's broom, much brighter than any he'd seen.

Its power rivaled a flashbang.

Hermione said calmly, "My eyesight isn't great, so I installed a headlight on my broom."

Before Marcus could react, she moved towards another player.

The next targeted player, recalling his teammates' fates, steeled himself to confront Hermione.

"I'm bigger, can't I handle a little girl?"

He charged straight at Hermione.

"Beep!!!"

Just as they were about to collide, a deafening noise blasted from Hermione's direction. It felt like facing an oncoming train, his eardrums nearly bursting. Dizzy, his broom lost control, crashing down.

Hermione removed her earmuffs and glanced back at Marcus.

"To avoid collisions, I installed a horn on my broom. You're welcome."

In the next half-minute, Hermione, using high beams, honking, and smoke, sent the remaining Slytherin players off the field, leaving only Captain Marcus standing.

By now, Marcus was petrified of Hermione. Winning or losing the game no longer mattered; his only thought was to avoid her.

Determined, he fled at full speed, but Hermione couldn't catch up immediately.

Both rode Nimbus 2000s, their speeds matched.

Hermione pressed a red button on her broom.

"Here comes the nitro boost!"

An inconspicuous gold-red module at her broom's end unfolded, emitting a rocket-like blue flame.

BOOM!

With red and blue neon lights flashing on the broom handle, Hermione's speed surged, closing in on Marcus instantly.

Marcus panicked, shouting, "Impossible! We both have Nimbus 2000s! Why is your broom so fast?"

Hermione smirked.

Though it resembled a Nimbus 2000, her broom bore a more advanced name.

Cyberpunk 2077!

The red and blue lights reflected on Marcus's face as Hermione drew nearer.

"One, two, three..."

"Elbow strike!"

BAM!

A bewildered Wood watched as Hermione gave a thumbs-up, winking proudly.

"I forgot to mention, I'm a pro at broomstick racing!"

Marcus lay on the ground, surveying the fallen field, struggling to rise, pointing shakily at Hermione, his face a mix of anger and despair.

"You... you're not human!"

Then he fainted.

Silence enveloped the stadium. Even Gryffindor's players paused. Only Harry, focused on the Golden Snitch, remained unaware of the chaos, diligently pursuing it.

Hermione shrugged.

In sports, injuries happen.

Once, a dear friend committed the foul act of attacking a referee in 1357.

She's been quite restrained.

At the teachers' table, even Quirrell was stunned, momentarily forgetting his sinister plans against Harry.

Three minutes later, under silent scrutiny, Harry finally caught the Golden Snitch.

Holding the Snitch, he was about to cheer when he noticed the silent crowd, staring with complex expressions.

And Slytherin's players lay scattered, unconscious.

Harry glanced at the scoreboard—no errors.

I caught the Snitch, we won, so why no reaction?

Hermione flew beside Harry, patting his shoulder.

"Congrats on catching the Snitch and scoring 150 points. We won!"

"You're amazing!"

Sensing the odd atmosphere, Harry asked tentatively, "We... really won?"

"Yes, we won."

"Really?"

"Really."

"Then they..."

"Oh, don't sweat the details," Hermione waved dismissively.

In the stands, professors exchanged glances.

Foul?

Doesn't seem so.

No magic, no throwing or hitting—just normal physical contact.

Even if excessive, Slytherin started it.

The lights were for visibility, horns and lights to warn others... at least, that's what Hermione claimed. And the broom's exhaust? No competition rules forbidding such modifications.

Everything seemed normal.

Yet why did it feel so strange?

Madam Hooch pondered, then nodded at the commentator.

Understanding, he announced:

"Harry Potter caught the Golden Snitch, ending the match! The score is 160-0, Gryffindor wins! Congratulations, Gryffindor!"

Harry, joyful, held up the Snitch, basking in the attention.

After a pause, the crowd erupted in thunderous cheers.

"Hermione!"

"Hermione!"

"Hermione!"

Harry: ???