Hogwarts' Golden Glory

The memories of the past were suddenly swept away by the smell of disinfectant from Nawei.

"Draco, thank you for saving me. You guys are actually quite good at using flying broomsticks."

Neville stood beside Draco, expressing his gratitude.

Upon hearing this, Draco's usually arrogant face instantly flushed red.

He shifted his body somewhat awkwardly and lowered his head slightly: "N-nothing...it's nothing."

Harry stepped forward, patted Draco on the shoulder, and said, "Draco, I know you love Quidditch. Actually, I was quite surprised to become the Seeker. But I believe in you, and Professor Snape will definitely give you a chance in the future."

Draco raised his head slightly, glanced at Harry, and muttered under his breath, "Hmph, you're so good with words."

But his tone was no longer as sharp as before; he had realized his mistake.

Suddenly Kane grabbed his brother by the back of his collar and lifted him up like a restless cat.

"Want a spot on the college team? Sure—"

Kane suddenly produced an hourglass as if by magic, with the flowing gold sand inside forming a pattern of a small broom.

"Starting tomorrow, as long as this hourglass of self-discipline spins two and a half times every day..."

"Merlin's stinky socks!" Draco exclaimed, eyes wide. "He has to get up at five every morning to train!"

"It's not like you're only allowed to practice in the morning."

Kane flicked the hourglass, and the sand began its descent.

An hourglass completes one full rotation in one hour, and two and a half rotations take two and a half hours.

Kane promised Draco that as long as Draco could make the hourglass spin two and a half times a day.

He would ask Professor Snape for a spot on the Quidditch team!

Draco stared at the broom pattern flowing in the hourglass, his fingertips unconsciously rubbing together.

Two and a half hours—meaning giving up your warm, soft bed and missing the lively afternoon tea time in the Slytherin common room.

She could only say with a hint of pleading, "Kane, this is too harsh! Two and a half hours every day, and I have so much homework to do, I simply can't manage it all."

Kane looked at Draco, his tone leaving no room for argument.

"If you can't even handle this much training, how can Professor Snape trust you with a spot? Do you want everyone to say that Draco Malfoy has no real ability and can only join Quidditch by paying money?"

Draco looked down at his toes, his mind filled with images of himself speeding across the Quidditch pitch.

"Getting up early every day is really painful, and if training affects my performance, my father will definitely be furious."

His voice grew softer and softer, as if even he himself felt a little guilty about these excuses.

Seeing this, Kane made a gesture to retrieve the hourglass, and said at the same time:

"If you win this championship, your father will definitely reward you when you get back. Think about what that reward will be?"

Upon hearing this, Draco's heart skipped a beat!

What could it be? What could it be?

The image of the latest Nimbus 2000 flashed through my mind instantly.

"Just two and a half hours..." Draco suddenly ripped off his silver-green tie and tied it to Kane's hourglass, which he was about to close, the force leaving a red mark on his neck. "That's not even a fraction of what I learned from Lansky's feints back in the day!"

He snatched the hourglass and stuffed it into his dragon-skin backpack, making the contents clatter.

"Okay, starting tomorrow, the funnel will be monitoring you. I hope you keep your word."

Kane left after saying this; now he needed to discuss things with his godfather.

Seeing that Draco had made up his mind, Harry also issued a challenge.

"Draco, good luck! I won't let you win the championship!"

"Don't come crying to Professor McGonagall when I knock you off the broom!"

Kane had already arrived at Snape's office door.

"professor?"

There was no response, so the door opened.

Snape's office was like a crucible that had been simmering for a hundred years, with three giant lizard specimens soaking in the shadows in the corner.

Kane's gaze happened to fall on the tip of the quill pen he was using to correct homework.

This was Kane's second visit to the other party's office.

"Professor, did you know that Harry became Gryffindor's Seeker?"

Snape frowned; of course he knew about it.

After all, he had been watching Harry from upstairs the whole afternoon while Harry was having his flying lesson.

This includes Harry and his friends trespassing into the Forbidden Forest.

If Professor McGonagall hadn't come downstairs, Snape would have been the one to deduct points from Harry.

"You came here just to say this?"

Snape's voice was deep and hoarse as he looked directly at Kane, clearly not believing that the other party would only come to his door for no reason.

"Professor, you know that Harry's father was a Quidditch master, and Harry must have inherited his talent. You wouldn't want Harry's Gryffindor team to defeat our Slytherin team, would you?"

"I heard that old Potter used to boast in the locker room that Slytherin could never produce a real aviator."

Kane not only discussed the outcome of the Slytherin battle, but also mentioned the person Snape hated most.

Sure enough, Kane mentioned Harry's father.

Snape's quill pierced the parchment, and venomous words spread from the tear: "Since when have the Malfoys become mouthpieces?"

"I want Draco to be our Slytherin's Seeker."

Kane stopped beating around the bush and stated his purpose directly.

"Draco? Are you sure he can?"

Snape raised an eyebrow, a hint of doubt flashing in his eyes.

In his mind, it would be perfect if Kane were the Seeker.

But if it were Draco...

"On behalf of the Malfoy family, I hereby declare that the entire Slytherin Quidditch team is to be fitted with the latest Nimbus 2000!"

There's an old saying that goes, "A problem that can be solved with money isn't a problem."

Snape was somewhat surprised to hear Kane's words, after all, this was a considerable expense.

Seeing Snape's surprise, Kane secretly felt smug.

This is what it feels like for those rich people in their past lives to support celebrities—it's truly outrageous.

Snape seemed to read Kane's mind, and scoffed, "What's the difference between a victory won with Galleons and cheating on an exam?"

"The difference is..." Kane flicked a Galleon from his fingertip, the coin spinning and reflecting the two faces, "When the Savior crashes to the ground on his broomstick, the headlines at Hogwarts will be 'Nimble 2000 wins big,' not 'Harry Potter inherits his father's legacy.'"

The lizard specimens suddenly hissed in unison, and Snape's cold laugh sounded like a snake flicking its tongue: "Come to me every Saturday midnight to process potions, until final exams."

Upon hearing this, Kane instantly realized that this wasn't a condition at all; it was clearly Snape offering him special treatment!

"Okay, Professor. I'll be going now. Your new broom should arrive in the next couple of days, barring any unforeseen circumstances."

Kane smiled broadly and answered crisply and decisively.

After saying that, he turned and left the office.

At this moment, he had too many things on his mind, and he was planning how to implement them one by one.

Snape stared at Kane's departing figure, slightly taken aback.

Why is Kane being so agreeable today?

I was thinking of having him deal with the slugs, the gallbladders of the African tree snakes, and the newly arrived sap grass.

Make sure he can't eat for several days in a row.

But look at how gleeful he is, as if he's gotten a huge bargain!