Marcus had figured out that Draco had put Blaise out of his reach and was ready to punish him for losing the match. Flint called nearly the house to watch his disciplinary tribunal. Of course, Draco picked pain... six times, each of his teammates punished him for losing. Draco took it all, didn't beg, cry or balk. The third years to the seventh years watched him when he faced off against Marcus, who was five years older than him. He went last and put Draco through more than all the others had. Flint ended the long bout of torture with a Cruciatus Curse, which surprised everyone.
                              
But after Draco had stood up and spat at his feet. "You done?"
                              
"For now... your attitude needs some adjusting."
                              
"No... you're done. I paid my dues. Now, it's your turn. Your reign is over, Flint."
                              
Marcus laughed and raised his wand, but Draco stripped him of it, as easy as if he was a first year. Stunned, Flint spat, "How dare you! I'll...."
                              
"How dare I? Do you know who the fuck I am? Did you think that I just have a powerful name and nothing to back it up?" Draco roared. "It's time you learned your place. I'm in charge, now."
                              
"The hell you are!" he said moving toward him, but stopped when Draco raised his wand.
                              
"Oh really? I played your game. You couldn't break me. You have no cause to press for more."
                              
"You lost the game and the House Cup! There's no way we can win, now!"
                              
"Maybe... but I'm not the one acting like a spoiled brat and taking it out on everyone else. I have paid up for my failure. It's your turn. You are the captain of the team and you failed. Are you ready for pain or humiliation?"
                              
"You have no right to...."
                              
"See that's where you are wrong. Power decides who gets to do what. I have your wand. Anyone want to assist Flint, here? Any volunteers to back his play?" Draco called out.
                              
Miles was the only one who moved, but Theo stepped up next to Draco. Like a stereotypical coward, Bletchley slithered back and kept quiet.
                              
"This isn't happening!" Flint stamped his foot like a five-year-old.
                              
"It is. Pain or humiliation? Last chance, before I pick."
                              
"Fuck you! I'm not going to...." 
                              
Draco dropped him to the ground with one spell. Flint spasmed uncontrollably for a minute, before Draco lifted it. "Now, that wasn't pain. It was me showing you who's in charge, now. You refused to answer, so I pick humiliation. Because I know that you are the coward that you are and you'd probably run crying to the infirmary as soon as it is over. So... you are to move all your stuff back into the seventh-year dorm room... without your wand."
                              
"I'm not...."
                              
"Oh yes, you are. I'll break this and have fun acquiring and mastering a new wand for your NEWTs. You can't redo another year, Flint."
                              
He looked at horror at him. "You can't...."
                              
"Accidents happen. Now, go and be quick about it. Then you can come back and kneel down in front of me and beg me to give your wand back," Draco spat, venomously.
                              
"I'm not doing that!"
                              
"Then good luck in your career with no NEWTs scores and everyone knowing that you bailed on our game."
                              
Flint took the walk of shame down to his dorm room and Draco sent Bletchley after him, wandless, to help him move, as Miles had failed to save eight goals in the game. It took them all of 30 minutes to move. Draco had the seventh years rouse the first and second years from their rooms to witness the end of Flint's reign.