A few days later the morning broke too bright.
The sky looked like polished steel, clean and sharp enough to cut.
A cruel joke, really — perfect flying weather for a war disguised as a sport.
The banners around the pitch shimmered green and black, with the only commonality being silver, rippling in the wind.
The crowd hadn't even filled in yet, and still, the energy was thick — expectation, rivalry, and something darker humming just beneath the cheers.
House Draconis — all four of us — stood alone at the edge of the pitch within the dressing room.
Four against seven.
And a reserve.
We had faced worse odds the previous year, but this year the opponent had a psyche factor of having the latest nimbus broom.
Though none would think to realize this modern day broom was already far outclassed by the output and performance of our Aeriusbolt broom produced specifically for us by the Arcanum research institute.
Which was already well underway into development into the supreme model.
Daphne was tightening the strap of her gloves; her calm was the kind that made people nervous.
Cho adjusted her goggles with quiet precision.
Hermione clutched her broom like it might bite, she still had a fear of flying but her mood today was better, feeling the desire to stick it to those arrogant snake who dared question her lineage.
I just stared across the field at the Slytherin team lined up like peacocks with onxy black brooms.
Nimbus Two-Thousand-and-Ones, every one of them — the smug hum of superiority practically radiating off their handles.
With the curtains opened the teams were allowed to sally forth onto the pitch.
Draco Malfoy hovered a few feet up, doing a couple simple barrelrolls as if showing the simplicity in the movement, that infuriating grin plastered across his face.
"Well, well," he called down. "I almost didn't believe it. Hogwarts is really letting four people pretend to be a team once again."
Daphne rolled her eyes. "Better four real players than seven ornaments."
Draco smirked. "We'll see how ornamental I look when I'm scoring goals over your head, Greengrass."
Her smile didn't waver. "If you can stay on your broom long enough to try, Malfoy."
His eyes flicked to me, as they always did — his real target. "You must be feeling awfully brave, Snape. Taking the field after the other days little... gardening project."
I tilted my head. "You still have dirt under your nails, Draco. Want help cleaning it out?"
A ripple of laughter from the stands.
Slytherin's reserve — a tall, mean-looking boy I didn't recognize — scowled.
Malfoy ignored the crowd.
He leaned forward on his broom, voice lowering just enough to sound conspiratorial. "You know, my father says the Board's been asking questions about your little 'house.' About whether it's even legitimate."
"Then tell your father to ask Lady Draconis herself," I said, gesturing to the crest stitched over my heart. "She'll be happy to remind him what happens when snakes slither into a dragons territory."
That earned a few gasps from those within earshot.
Draco's cheeks on the otherhand flushed red.
I smiled, because this was it — the push he didn't realize he'd given me. "Afraid of losing, even with daddy spending a fortune bribing his way to get you placed on the team?"
Draco perked up instantly. "You Dare- you know what?"
Daphne's eyes flicked toward me, warning glinting there.
Cho stayed silent, waiting.
"What!?" I calmly replied knowing the entire school was already well familiar with the rules behind House Draconis.
And with tensions as high as they were a challenge was sure to be waged right about now with little snake pride on the line.
He looked me dead in the eye.
"if you lose, every member of Slytherin gets to use 'that' word without repurcussion, Forever."
A collective murmur rippled through the stands. Even the professors in the viewing box shifted uncomfortably.
The rules of House Draconis were not only binding on the house but the school as well, something young draco was keen to exploit, if they indeed did win, none of the teachers could scold the little snakes for use of the word.
"Well fine if you feel that confident then, in compensation for your inevitable defeat, we'll claim young Astoria so she can join her sister within our simple house."
Draco smirked almost as if he knew what i would ask for in return, floating close enough to extend a hand for a shake to seal the deal.
I didn't take it.
I just gave him a small, cold nod — the kind of nod that makes people uneasy, because it isn't anger they see behind your eyes.
It's certainty.
Daphne leaned toward me as the Slytherins flew off to form up.
"You're insane, you know that?"
"Of course," I said. "But if I win, you owe me dinner."
Her smirk twitched. "If you win, i'll raid the whole bloody kitchen for you."
Hermione frowned.
"Cassius, you shouldn't have agreed to that."
"Why not?" I asked.
"Because you're treating hate speech like it's a betting chip."
Her tone was sharp, but her hands were trembling.
I softened a little. "No, Hermione. I'm treating it like a curse. One we're going to break."
Cho said nothing — she just zoomed off on her broom, circling once before taking her position as the lead chaser.
"If you two are done with the moral debate," she said, "we've got a game to win!"
We took our positions on the field as the stands began to cry out in cheers and jeers — This time around the stands were dominated with black and silver banners as the houses all looked forward to the defending champions pulling off a flawless victory once more against the devious little snakes.
Meanwhile the green of the snakes own fans only took up a small section of the stands.
Madam Hooch strode across the pitch, silver whistle glinting at her throat.
"Teams, to your marks!"
We four took our positions.
Hermione once more guarding the goals, Cho front and center squaring off against Malfoy, Daphne hovering to the side twirling her beaters bat.
And lastly myself facing off across from Harry high above the chasers, but the young lad looked conflicted.
He wanted to win, but winning meant allowing a word his mother hated almost above all others to be stated openly.
I could hear the jeers from the Slytherin section already —
"Half a team!"
"Hope you brought shovels!"
I ignored them.
What I didn't ignore was the slight figure standing beside the Slytherin bench — pale-haired, sharp-faced, trying to look like she didn't care.
Astoria Greengrass.
Daphne saw her too.
We had talked before about securing her sister into the house, not only to protect her from the plots of the little snakes, but also to ensure the young girl got the best schooling possible, and where better than the house with all the top students.
Finally the noise around silenced as Madame Hooch raised the whistle to her lips.
The trunk at her feet rattled — with a solid kick Bludgers shot out glad to be freed, while the Snitch flickering like a heartbeat of gold tore through the air.
Lastly the quaffle was gripped in hand, as everyone drew in breath waiting for it to be tossed into the air for the game to begin.