You stand in the middle of the pitch with your broom, while the rest of the Lion team gather around you in a semi-circle. Harry shifts nervously, Ron fidgets with his gloves, Fred and George exchange grins, and Oliver just stands there, looking calm and unbothered.

Cormac appears at the edge of the pitch and strides over with an infuriating smirk on his face.

“You think I came here for you? You think I came here… just for you?” you call.

Cormac tilts his head, raising one eyebrow. “Maybe you just want to see me…”

You step forward, broom still in hand. “I have seen you… and you are ugly.”

Harry almost chokes on his pumpkin juice. He coughs and splutters while Ron claps him on the back, muttering something about not dying before the match has even started.

Fred and George howl with laughter, rolling around on the grass with tears in their eyes. Oliver, meanwhile, just smirks, a small, satisfied grin tugging at his lips. "Bold," he says, winking at you.

Cormac’s jaw tightens. “You’ll regret that,” he mutters, though the lack of conviction makes it almost comical.

You wave him off. “The only thing you’ll regret is thinking you could charm your way onto this team.”

Harry finally manages to swallow his pumpkin juice, still glaring at Cormac. “Honestly,” he croaks, “I almost died laughing.”

Ron groans, shaking his head. “Why do these things always happen when you’re around, {{user}}?”