Harry Potter : Bloodraven-Chapter 114: The Battle for Glory (II) (CH - 134)
A black blur flickered at the edge of Harry's vision, screaming toward him like a cannonball.
He jerked his broom to the side, and the iron ball whistled past, missing by inches and whipping through his hair. He tightened his grip to stay upright, heart pounding, but the Durmstrang Beaters weren't letting up—it was less a match now, more a hunt.
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Another Bludger tore through the air, aimed straight for his ribs.
Ruthless.
Harry pulled up sharply, and the Bludger shot beneath him, close enough for him to feel the rush of air and the angry spin of iron.
The crowd's roar echoed in the distance, but up here, it was drowned out by rushing wind and thundering heartbeats.
And it wasn't just Harry flying with one eye over his shoulder—Krum was under fire too. Hogwarts team had long since abandoned any pretense of fair play.
Every turn brought a new threat. A rogue elbow. A sudden swerve. A Bludger sent with obvious intent.
The referee's whistle blew now and then, followed by warnings that were quickly ignored. Nothing changed. In fact, the game only got dirtier.
And even though Harry and Krum were locked in a frantic aerial duel—swerve or suffer—they were also playing their own game of cat and mouse.
The message was clear in every maneuver. If you spot the Snitch, you'll have to get through me first.
They dove low, banked hard to the right, cutting through the air with sudden, slicing turns. Their movements were sharp, unpredictable—a test of nerve, speed, and will.
They kept at it, weaving through the sky—slashing, swerving, never slowing. The Bludgers kept coming, forcing constant evasions. Neither Seeker was willing to give an inch.
Then came the announcer's shout: "And Durmstrang scores again! That's one-forty for Durmstrang! Hogwarts better grab a miracle, or this is it!"
The crowd erupted—cheers, groans, feet stomping the stands. The sound washed over the pitch like a wave.
Only one more goal and Durmstrang would win.
That moment of celebration—just a flicker of distraction—was all it took.
Harry saw it.
A flash of gold. A shimmer, barely a blink, near the edge of the stands. Tucked just behind the shadow of a banner fluttering in the wind.
His heart slammed against his ribs.
He didn't move right away. He didn't dare.
He glanced sideways—Krum was turned, eyes tracking the celebrating chasers, just for a second. A second too long.
