Hogwarts: Third Dark Lord

Marcus Flint seethed with rage at Wentworth's parting words, his chest burning with fury and his bloodshot eyes narrowing in anger.

At the same time, a sinister voice echoed persistently in his mind:

"Eliminate Wentworth, and victory belongs to Slytherin!"

Almost as if compelled by some unseen force, Marcus mounted his broom and silently approached Wentworth from behind, his hand inching forward.

But just then, Kirk suddenly swooped in, positioning himself between Marcus and Wentworth. Fixing Marcus with a piercing glare, Kirk snapped,

"What do you think you're doing, Flint?"

The unexpected confrontation jolted Marcus out of his trance. Hearing the commotion behind him, Wentworth turned just in time to see Kirk blocking Marcus, who was glowering at him with barely concealed hatred.

Surrounded by the gaze of players from both teams and with Kirk standing firmly in his path, Marcus finally spat out,

"Wentworth, you'd better watch yourself! Cunning tricks won't win you matches. Victory belongs to Slytherin!"

With that, Marcus turned his broom and flew off.

Watching him retreat, Kirk turned to Wentworth and warned,

"Be careful around Marcus. Something about him feels... off today."

Wentworth chuckled, brushing off the concern.

"Don't worry, Kirk. What's he going to do? He's a Chaser, not a Beater. It's not like he's going to pull out a wand and hex me mid-match!"

Kirk considered this for a moment before reluctantly nodding. Still, he urged Wentworth to remain vigilant, and Wentworth agreed.

Meanwhile, back on the Slytherin side, their Seeker, now treated with Madam Pomfrey's magic and fortified by Snape's potion, miraculously returned to the match. Cheers erupted from the Slytherin supporters.

Snape, watching from the stands, muttered darkly,

"Wentworth has a sharp mind. If only he'd use it more for his studies."

Professor Ilona, sitting nearby, turned and teased,

"Other than Cassandra, are there any first-years who can match Wentworth? I'd say your expectations for him are rather high, Severus."

Snape's face darkened further, but he refrained from responding, offering only a sharp "hmph" before falling silent.

The game resumed, with players from both sides battling fiercely. The scoreboard reflected Slytherin's narrow lead over Hufflepuff, maintaining a tense stalemate.

Both Wentworth and the Slytherin Seeker managed to spot the Golden Snitch multiple times, but every attempt to pursue it was thwarted by the opposing team's Beaters. The match grew increasingly deadlocked.

Then, a whistle pierced the air. Wentworth glanced toward the source and saw Kirk signaling—a prearranged code indicating the Snitch had been spotted.

Keeping his movements subtle, Wentworth adjusted his course toward Kirk 's location. Halfway there, his sharp eyes caught the Snitch hovering near Green.

Before Wentworth could make his move, Marcus Flint's voice boomed across the pitch,

"Wentworth's seen the Snitch!"

The sudden announcement drew everyone's attention to Wentworth, who clenched his jaw in frustration.

"Marcus, are you insane? This is a match! Why are you so obsessed with me?" he shouted, his annoyance spilling over.

But there was no time to dwell on it. Wentworth surged forward, his broom accelerating as he chased the elusive Snitch.

Marcus, too, felt a strange compulsion as he watched Wentworth. Anger flared within him, inexplicable yet undeniable. But now wasn't the time for reflection. With the Snitch so close, Marcus knew he had to act.

He steered his broom toward Wentworth. Seeing this, Kirk immediately veered into Marcus's path, shouting,

"Wentworth, focus on the Snitch! Leave the rest to me!"

Wentworth had no time to respond. His entire focus was on the tiny, golden ball darting unpredictably ahead.

As Wentworth closed in on the Snitch, Marcus pressed forward, only to be intercepted by Kirk. The two clashed mid-air, their brooms colliding repeatedly as Marcus tried to reach Wentworth and Kirk fought to keep him away.

Just as their struggle intensified, a deafening cheer erupted from the stands. Both Marcus and Kirk looked up to see Wentworth triumphantly holding the Golden Snitch aloft, basking in the adoration of Hufflepuff's supporters.

"Oh, I knew it! I just knew it!" Kirk yelled, throwing his arms in the air. "This kid's the bloody lucky star of Hufflepuff!"

The match was over. The pitch was filled with Hufflepuff's jubilant cheers, while Slytherin's players descended slowly, defeated. In the stands, Slytherin supporters slumped in disappointment, their spirits crushed by the roaring celebration around them.

Marcus Flint remained frozen in mid-air, unable to accept what had just happened. His gaze fixated on Wentworth, who was kissing the Snitch amid the crowd's adulation. The chants of "Wentworth! Wentworth!" echoed through the air, intensifying the turmoil in Marcus's mind.

The ominous voice from the letter resounded in his thoughts once more:

"Wentworth! Eliminate Wentworth, and victory belongs to Slytherin!"

Marcus's vision blurred. Then, under the stunned gazes of players and spectators alike, he shot toward Wentworth, arms outstretched. Before anyone could react, Marcus tackled the unsuspecting first-year, dragging them both into a dizzying fall from the sky.

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