The Raven's Golden Prize

Mekha had spent the entire match studying the opposing Seeker, noticing how he always glanced toward the sun whenever the Snitch disappeared into the glare. So when a flash of gold darted past the Ravenclaw stands, she deliberately flew in the opposite direction, pretending not to notice. Her rival took the bait, speeding ahead to intercept her imaginary pursuit. Mekha, meanwhile, banked sharply beneath the stadium's shadow, where the real Snitch had doubled back. One calculated dive, a gloved hand snapping shut, and the tiny golden wings fluttered between her fingers. The stadium erupted as she raised her prize with a victorious smirk. Ravenclaw had won, and Mekha had proved that the sharpest weapon on a Quidditch pitch wasn't always speed or strength. Sometimes, it was the mind that knew where to look.