Harry Potter: The Vampire Prince

"Stop it—hey, stop it! You can't do this to me..."

Desperate cries echoed from Miles, perched high on the Slytherin stands at the Quidditch pitch.

Today marked Eve's debut match, and though many of the Slytherin students were aware, only a few were truly willing to cheer for her.

Perhaps the Slytherins, out of respect for Nolan, had refrained from calling her a "Mudblood," but that hadn't erased the disdain in their eyes or the way they viewed Eve as an outsider.

Malcolm was known for singing praises of every Slytherin player, awarding them one by one with honors tied to his family name—except for Eve.

Of course, Malcolm didn't garner much affection himself. Even among Slytherins, an excessively fanatical racist wasn't particularly likable.

Under such circumstances, Eve's fanbase was understandably small.

Alicia and Nolan stood waving a large silver-and-green flag emblazoned with "EVE," while the aforementioned Miles had become a hapless victim of their enthusiasm. He was wrapped head to toe in tattered bedsheets, resembling a mummy.

The bedsheet bore an enchanted Slytherin serpent emblem that hissed and flicked its tongue, courtesy of Nolan's spell.

As cheers erupted from the crowd, both teams entered the field.

The Slytherin players were mostly tall and imposing. Even Montague, only a second-year, towered well above his peers.

Eve was the sole exception. Petite and striking, her silver hair tied into a ponytail glimmered against the emerald green of her robes, catching the eyes of many in the audience.

Feeling nervous, Eve glanced upward and spotted the "EVE" flag from afar. The sight of her friends—and that boy—waiting beneath it for her victory steadied her heart.

"The more nervous you are, the calmer you must be," she reminded herself.

Madam Hooch had always admired Eve, considering her one of her most promising students, even though she hadn't taught the young flyer much.

Offering an encouraging nod to Eve, Madam Hooch addressed the players: "Now, children, listen up. I expect to see a fair and honorable match."

This was directed at the Slytherin team specifically, though they didn't appear to care much.

Fourteen broomsticks from the two teams, plus Madam Hooch's own, rose into the sky. Fifteen in total.

The match began.

Commentating today was Lee Jordan, a second-year student. Why Professor McGonagall had chosen him remained a mystery—perhaps it was the rhythmic flair in his voice.

From the moment Lee took his place, his chatter was incessant: "And they're off! Angelina Johnson grabs the Quaffle right at the start! She's such a brilliant Chaser—not to mention absolutely stunning!"

"Jordan!"

"Sorry, Professor McGonagall..." Lee coughed awkwardly, then suddenly shouted, "Oh, Merlin's beard! What's this? Angelina's passing to Alicia—that's a great choice, considering there's no way she'd out-muscle Marcus Flint, that blasted troll—but wait, she's intercepted! Who was that?"

At this point, Lee's loud commentary was unnecessary. Gasps rippled through the stands as everyone watched a silver streak tearing through the air.

"It's Eve Stock!" Lee yelled, realization dawning. "Her speed is incredible—lightning fast! By Merlin, is she really riding a Cleansweep Seven? She's still accelerating! Alicia and Katie Bell can't keep up—no one can! Wood's coming out to block her—can he stop her? No, he can't! She scores! Eve Stock scores! Mate, did you see that? I've got to say, that was beautiful! Stock is a dazzling player—and quite the fascinating young lady!"

Eve's face lit up with a smile as she high-fived her teammates who flew over to congratulate her.

"Hey, Eve," Montague called, swinging his bat with glee. "Let's go for another! I'll cover you!"

A wizard's flying ability is rarely something trained—it's almost entirely instinctive. Eve, however, flew as if she were born knowing exactly what to do. Every move she made was sharp and precise, without a hint of wasted motion. Her speed was so astonishing that by the time Gryffindor's Chasers realized what was happening, Eve had already snatched the Quaffle from their grasp.

"Third interception! That's Eve Stock's third interception!" Lee Jordan's voice rang out, barely able to contain his excitement. "Oh, she's stirred up some real anger now! Angelina, Alicia, and Katie are closing in on her! Will she pass the Quaffle? No! She's climbing! She's climbing fast! She's like a silver lightning bolt streaking through the sky!"

The crowd held its breath as Eve suddenly dove. "A dive—she's diving! Gryffindor's goalposts are ahead, and Wood's there to block her! Come on, Wood! Do something in this game!"

But before anyone could blink, Eve scored.

"She scores! Merlin's beard, she scores again! Wood, that fool, didn't even realize she'd thrown the Quaffle until it was already in the goal! She's completely outplayed him! What am I witnessing today? A Chaser like no other—a silver streak faster than anyone on the pitch!"

The scoreboard shifted: Slytherin: 80, Gryffindor: 20.

"And here comes Stock again, our star scorer, searching for another opportunity... Oh no, a Bludger's heading her way!"

Eve swerved in a split second, dodging the Bludger with an elegance that made it seem as though she had eyes in the back of her head. Behind her, Angelina wasn't as lucky. The Bludger slammed into her, and Lee Jordan groaned dramatically.

"I just hope her gorgeous face is still intact after that!" he exclaimed.

Meanwhile, Eve was accelerating again. Faster, always faster. "She's doing it again! Will Gryffindor's downfall today be Stock's unstoppable speed? The Quaffle—it's in!"

Wood looked utterly defeated.

Hovering high in the air, Eve took deep, steady breaths. Her body was exhausted, but her mind had never been clearer. Her expression was devoid of emotion, her focus absolute. The moment Katie Bell caught the Quaffle, Eve surged forward.

"That demon..." Katie muttered, her voice trembling. She was on the verge of breaking down, her fingers shaking even as she clutched the Quaffle.

Under Eve's relentless pressure, Katie panicked and threw the ball to Alicia. But before the pass could even reach its target, that silver streak appeared once again. Eve maneuvered through the air as deftly as a Muggle performing a car drift, carving a sharp half-circle and intercepting the Quaffle with ease.

Then, like a flash of lightning, she sped toward Gryffindor's goal.

"Hold the line, hold the line... I can do this..." Wood muttered to himself, wiping sweat from his brow. The pressure was immense—he hadn't blocked a single shot all game.

As Eve closed in, Wood tightened his grip on his broom. This time, he wasn't going to wait. He launched himself toward her, aiming to knock her off course with a full-body collision.

But just as they were about to collide, Eve executed an impossibly sharp maneuver, pulling her broom up at a near-perfect right angle and soaring upward.

"She scores!"

Lee Jordan's shout echoed through the stands, while Wood's face turned ashen. His broom wobbled under him, and for a moment, it looked like he might faint and tumble right off it.