The Wild Broom

Dracula held his umbrella and stood on a high stand at the edge of the Quidditch pitch, his expression one of utter disinterest. It was clear that he wasn't there to enjoy the game, and it was in stark contrast to the excited chatter and cheers of the students around him.

The little wizards, aware of the intimidating presence of the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, instinctively kept their distance, leaving him alone on his elevated perch. Meanwhile, they crowded together in the stands, shivering in the cold air and excitedly discussing the match.

Ms. Hooch, the referee, stood in the center of the pitch, broomstick in hand, waiting for the players to line up.

Harry, ready to take his first step into the competitive Quidditch world, glanced toward the stands. His eyes first caught a high-flying banner that read, "Potter Must Win" in bold letters, and then, standing alone on the high platform, holding his umbrella like some eccentric figure of authority, was Professor Dracula.

Dracula gave Harry a small nod of acknowledgment, causing Harry to grip his Nimbus 2000 tighter, his confidence bolstered by the support of both his Gryffindor friends and his professor. With a renewed sense of determination, Harry felt ready to face Slytherin and prove his worth.

Madam Hooch blew her silver whistle, and the match began with a flurry of broomsticks soaring into the sky. But for Dracula, the excitement was fleeting. As the players darted through the air and the flying balls zipped around the pitch, Dracula found the entire spectacle tiring. The broomsticks were too slow for his liking, and the noise of the crowd grated on his nerves.

He tried to sneak away from the stands, but his eyes kept drifting to Harry, the Gryffindor Seeker, whose every move seemed to seek Dracula's attention. Harry was desperately trying to locate the Golden Snitch, and Dracula couldn't help but feel a strange obligation to endure the dullness of the game, if only to not disappoint his little fan.

But just as Dracula was about to leave, he noticed a young wizard in the crowd who caught his attention. A Hufflepuff boy named Cedric Diggory was sitting amongst his housemates, scribbling notes in a notebook while watching the game. Cedric's calm and composed demeanor stood out, and Dracula, ever the connoisseur of character, couldn't help but admire him.

Snapping his fingers, Dracula conjured a giant bat, which swooped down and grabbed Cedric, lifting him off the ground and depositing him next to the professor. Cedric, startled, quickly drew his wand, ready to defend himself, but Dracula had other plans. The bat vanished into thin air, and Dracula greeted Cedric with a casual "Good morning" as he conjured a parasol large enough to provide shade and placed it over them..

"Just sit down wherever you want." Dracula waved his hand lazily as he lay back on the bench he had conjured with his Transfiguration spell, pointing to a nearby chair. He looked at Cedric without a hint of urgency. "I saw you taking notes earlier. What were you writing?"

Cedric, now uncomfortably close to the terrifying professor, cast a glance of silent pleading toward his Quidditch teammates. However, those who had once been ready to intervene and rescue him from the giant bat's claws were now turning their heads away. They acted as if they hadn't even seen Cedric, and his prefect, Truman, offered him nothing more than a helpless glance before turning away.

"Good morning, Professor," Cedric said, trying his best to remain calm despite his nervousness. "Actually, I'm the Seeker for the Hufflepuff Quidditch team. I was just observing Potter's Seeker tactics."

Dracula raised an eyebrow in mild interest. "What do you think of Potter's skills?"

"Not bad, for his age," Cedric responded, a little more at ease now.

Just as the conversation flowed, a sharp movement above caught both of their attention. The two Seekers, Harry and his opponent, zoomed overhead, their figures momentarily blocked by Dracula's large umbrella. Cedric, watching with increasing anxiety, leaned forward. "Professor," he asked, unable to contain his curiosity, "It's a sunny day today—do you still need the umbrella? Also, you're only wearing such a thin wizard robe. Aren't you cold?"

Dracula adjusted his red and black cloak with an almost bored sigh. "It's not cold," he replied flatly. "And besides, I detest the sun. It's perfectly normal for me to use a parasol in the sunlight, don't you think?"

As the conversation continued, Cedric slowly relaxed, enjoying the exchange with the enigmatic professor. However, the atmosphere of the match shifted dramatically when a new, unexpected incident occurred on the pitch.

High in the sky, Harry's broomstick began to behave in a way that could only be described as erratic. It twitched, jerked, and twisted unnaturally, rising higher and higher, pulling Harry with it, defying all attempts to regain control.

"What kind of tactic is this?" Cedric asked, bewildered, peering through his binoculars. "Is it some kind of psychological game to trick the opponent?"

Dracula's red eyes narrowed as they followed Harry's struggle. He shifted his focus entirely to the unfolding situation.

The broom continued to roll and twist violently beneath Harry, who clung to it desperately, trying not to fall. Then, with a final violent lurch, Harry was thrown off the broom entirely, now hanging onto the handle with only one hand.

"Wait a minute," Dracula muttered, his frown deepening as he observed the chaotic scene. "This isn't some Quidditch tactic. There's something seriously wrong with Potter's broom!"

Dracula immediately turned his gaze toward Quirrell, who was seated in another stand. He had initially assumed that Quirrell, under Voldemort's influence, had caused this incident in an attempt to harm Harry. However, Quirrell's behavior was not what Dracula expected. While Harry struggled with his broom, Quirrell showed no signs of magic or even concern. Instead, he was watching the match intently, as though completely engrossed in the game, showing no signs of any interference.

The professor's suspicion grew stronger. Something was afoot—something that did not involve Quirrell's known loyalties to Voldemort. Dracula watched closely, now fully engaged with the mystery that had unexpectedly emerged on the Quidditch pitch.

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