Roger grumbled in defeat, sending an icy glare to Harry. Harry rolled his eyes at this. Roger's looks aren't so intimidating.
                          
"Alright, get to your position," Harry ordered, noting that Roger followed his direction. "Aiden, aid Davies while you can. I don't think he has the skill to deal Spinnet. Oh, and good job out there, you were brilliant, Aiden..." Said girl blushed intensely at the praise from the appealing guy and skillfully moved to Johnson. A devilish smirk curled on his lips as that'll make her more resolute than ever. Switching his eyes upfront, he saw Sheila rushing to the keeper stand at a breakneck speed. Two of her teammates were by her side, each displaying identical expressions to Sheila's. Playfully, Harry flew to Sheila's side, matching her speed and smirking at her.
                          
"Don't look so smug, Potter! This isn't the end," Sheila barked, bumping him with her body just enough to lose him. Harry merely switched to her other side, flying upside-down above Sheila and boasting his talent. His fans cheered him on. Sheila gnashed her teeth irritably at this, clutching the Quaffle tightly.
                          
"Come on Sheila, just give me the Quaffle and let us win this."
                          
"In your dreams, Potter! Let's see if you can keep up with me!" Abruptly, she dived downward, not slowing her broom's current speed, taking a huge risk. Just as she almost touched the ground, she pulled back and accelerated her broom more. There was a cheer from Gryffindor but it died down instantly. Fluttering her eyes, she looked to her left side. There, the smirking face of Harry was flying by her side. He was waving at her, too.
                          
"Give up?" She steered her broom to her left hastily, assaulting Harry with her body. She managed to deter him, but only by haltering his flying slightly.
                          
"You're forgetting something, Sheila. My body is much stronger than yours and you're much smaller than me."
                          
"You think, Potter?" Sheila threw the Quaffle up in the air with all her might. "Alicia!"
                          
Her eyes widened as her teammate was marked by Roger.
                          
She lost him with ease but as Alicia reached for it, nearly grasping it, Shannon lunged for the Quaffle. Sheila cursed under her breath. Harry, seeing the opportunity, detached himself from Sheila and extended his hand in the air for a pass. Not wasting time, Shannon flew first, evading Angelica along the way and tossing it accurately to Harry. Gripping the broom in one hand, his other grabbed the Quaffle. As it was in his palm, he kicked off his broom to top speed. In a great rush of excitement, Harry pumped his adrenaline and sped up to Wood. The fierce wind attacking him didn't affect his grasp on the Quaffle. Only one hand was steering the broom while the other was holding the Quaffle in the air.
                          
Harry liked this, the ferocity of the wind, the feeling he underwent as the adrenaline rushed through his muscles.
                          
He even smiled to the crowd as he passed the stands, causing the crowd to cheer loudly. The loudest cheer in Quidditch history resonated through the field. The crowd was in awe and admiration at the performance he had given them. He knew he was showing off, but he couldn't help it. He was in bliss of exhilaration, and no one can stop him. Sensing someone was on the verge of reaching out for the Quaffle, Harry, as fast as he could, brought down the Quaffle, hugging it firmly. Peeking over his shoulder, he was stunned to see Sheila struggling to steal the Quaffle. One hand was holding down her broom and the other was stretching out in the direction of the Quaffle, grasping the air for it.
                          
"Sheila! Don't be stupid! Stop it! You can't control this speed with just one hand! It's too much for you or anyone else! The broom is at its limit, you'll lose control of it and crash down! Just give up!"
                          
"Speak for yourself!" Sheila retorted.
                          
Just as Harry predicted, Sheila's broom started to sway violently in another direction, plummeting to the ground. Sheila, with a panicked expression, hung onto the broom for dear life. She was clasping the broom so hard, pushing it to another direction again and again, but it was useless. The broom was persistent on crashing to the ground with remarkable speed. The crowd was horror-struck, most people were on their feet, eyes glued to Sheila. Yelping as the ground approached faster, she closed her eyes fearfully. Another hand grabbed onto her own and she opened her eyes to see Harry, trying to halt her broom.