Days at Hogwarts

Chapter 777 Another Quidditch Year

"A new type of spatial teleportation device..."

"Precisely controlling the immense magical power contained within the Philosopher's Stone..."

Professor Barbling listened quietly to Loren's narration, her eyes vacant. As a professor, she was being kept late by a student, and the one asking her questions was someone who hadn't even enrolled in the course. She sighed almost imperceptibly, a strange sense of helplessness creeping over her.

As it turns out, even among graduating seventh graders, the differences between individuals, such as the use of Neanderthal script, are enormous. Some students are still struggling with prank items, while others have already received invitations from the Egyptian Alchemy Research Center and have begun exploring areas that many old scholars have never ventured into.

Loren Morgan is an exceptionally talented wizard, a consensus among the Hogwarts professors.

Potions, Transfiguration, Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts... Loren Morgan excelled in most of the courses offered at Hogwarts. The few subjects he failed to achieve good grades in were not due to his limited talent, but rather because of his lazy nature and his failure to choose them.

Runewen is one of them.

Recalling their adventure in Egypt a few years ago, she had already noticed Loren's talent in runes and alchemy. Over the years, she had discussed these topics with Miss Granger, occasionally teasing the girl about how her boyfriend, despite his talent, refused to take rune courses in order to escape the inquisitive Miss Granger and gain some quiet time alone...

A few months ago, an invitation letter from the Egyptian Alchemy Research Center brought the mysterious Loren Morgan back into her spotlight. Considering Beauxbatons' role in this, she had a vague idea of ​​who was teaching Loren runes and alchemy.

The professor was the legendary wizard from the Chocolate Frog picture book, so it's normal for his students to be outstanding, but she still found it hard to accept—

How come a student who hasn't even graduated yet is starting to explore such a profound field?

"The initial idea was to create an energy storage substance similar to Floo Powder, which wizards would scatter when using the device. But I just had a new idea. Professor, what do you think? Could we use the spatial connections between the devices to centrally supply energy, similar to the electricity used by Muggles?"

"..."

These questions are giving me a headache.

Professor Babling gradually came to her senses, rubbed her temples, and said somewhat awkwardly, "Loren, I'm a professor of ancient runes, not alchemy. I probably can't help with this kind of problem. Instead of wasting your time here, why don't you go find the teacher who teaches you runes and alchemy?"

As she spoke, she subtly observed his expression.

"I've already tried."

Loren shrugged, looking helpless: "Fra... that professor thinks this is my mission. He's willing to do some tedious and repetitive work, but he can't intervene in key points and important designs, saying he's trying to eliminate some kind of influence, which is really weird."

"..."

Prophecy and fate?

Professor Babling nodded thoughtfully. Considering how diligently he had served as a teaching assistant, she quickly adjusted her expression and mindset: "I can't offer any useful advice on alchemy, but... if you can point me in a specific direction, perhaps I can try to design a rune array according to your requirements. You will then need to adapt and improve it yourself."

"You've been a huge help."

Loren expressed his sincere gratitude.

Over the next half hour, Loren gave a brief introduction to the design results of the new spatial teleportation device, explained in detail the problems with magic supply, and the effects he hoped to achieve.

Professor Babling didn't waste any time and told him to go back and wait for news.

After saying goodbye to the professor, she turned around and saw that all the other students in the classroom had left. Only Hermione was still sitting by the window, holding the sketch she had drawn in the previous class. Her wizard robes hung down naturally, and she looked focused.

Loren walked over and patted her on the shoulder: "Hermione, let's go eat."

"A new spatial teleportation device, precisely powered by the Philosopher's Stone, designed with rune array compatibility..." Hermione muttered to herself, tidying her desk, then looked up at him and winked. "I heard your conversation with Professor Babling, Mr. Morgan. Why are you so concerned about this new device? It's completely out of character for your usual lazy and procrastinating self!"

"You seem... no, you are slandering me."

"Don't change the subject, answer quickly."

"To make money, to gain fame, and to help the ambitious Miss Granger rule the entire wizarding world as soon as possible."

Loren placed his hands on her shoulders and rocked her back and forth and side to side, pushing her toward the auditorium.

"Mr. Morgan has given himself away. I never intended to rule the magical world, so who is it that wants to rule the magical world?"

Hermione leaned back slightly to adjust her center of gravity, resting half of her body weight on his hand, and symbolically asked a question.

Although curious about the new device, it was outside her area of ​​expertise, so she didn't delve into it or necessarily need an answer. The years they'd spent together weren't long, but they had built an incredibly strong bond of trust. If Loren was doing something that would have a profound impact on the future, she unconditionally believed it would be for the better and looked forward to that future.

Even if it's just to retain a little mystery.

……

The second weekend of October, Quidditch pitch.

Loren hooked his little finger with Hermione's and mingled with the audience in the back row of the stands.

The first Quidditch match of the school year, and also the first Quidditch match in recent years without any scruples, was completely free from Voldemort's shadow. The players no longer had to worry about a professor under his control casting curses in the shadows, no longer had to worry about Dementors floating in the sky, and no longer had to worry about their loved ones being murdered at any moment...

Putting aside all off-field factors, the players and spectators were able to fully enjoy the game together, making the atmosphere at the scene exceptionally enthusiastic.

"call!"

"call!"

Three or four students rolled up their sleeves and waved vigorously, causing the Gryffindor flag to flutter above them. The golden lion on the flag seemed to be running and leaping, exuding a majestic aura.

As autumn deepened, Hogwarts gradually entered the rainy season, and the weather became cooler. Students changed into autumn clothes, adding thin sweaters under their wizarding robes. The stands were set up more than ten meters high, and the north wind blew the dampness and chill of late autumn into the gaps of the audience's clothes without reservation, making them feel cold and icy, and raising a layer of fine goosebumps.

Loren and Hermione were also wearing standard wizard robes, and they could feel wisps of cold wind blowing against their skin, cool and chilly, but not uncomfortable.

In a daze, Hermione seemed to recall the year she first entered school. It was a late autumn morning, a weekend like this, when she sat alone in the back row of the stands watching the Gryffindor vs. Slytherin match. When the match ended, Harry almost dropped his broom, and she set fire to the back of the professor's robes.

"..."

Hermione glanced furtively at the professor in the Slytherin section and couldn't help but smile slightly.

"Hey, hey, ahh—"

"Can you hear me?"

The loud voice of the commentator testing the sound echoed through the stadium. A Hufflepuff student, whose grade and name he couldn't recall, suddenly remembered something and turned to look. Loren was also straightening his back and scrutinizing the new commentator next to Professor McGonagall.

Yes, Loren was sitting in the commentary booth at that time.

At that time, Professor McGonagall had not yet seen through his true colors, so she was tricked into going with him and assisting Lee Jordan in commentating on the game, which nearly provoked a riot among the Slytherin students.

That was his first commentary, and he was quickly suspended.

I feel a little nostalgic.

Hermione sat quietly beside him, tilting her head to watch him squint as he explained, occasionally clicking his tongue and shaking his head, sometimes showing a sigh, and sometimes chuckling softly.

A loud voice boomed from the commentary booth in the distance: "Welcome to the 1997 Hogwarts Quidditch match! This game is Gryffindor versus Slytherin! This season will be the last of Gryffindor's legendary Seeker, Harry Potter. Since he joined, Gryffindor has won the championship six years in a row, a winning streak that dates back 130 years. Next June, he will leave the school to embark on a new journey in life. Goalkeeper Ron Weasley is also the team captain… Let's give a round of applause to the graduating players and to Gryffindor!"

The stands erupted in deafening cheers and screams.

"Gryffindor!!"

"Weasley is our king!"

"Go Harry!"

"..."

The noise from the audience was finally drowned out when the commentator spoke again: "The Slytherin team's history is equally legendary. Before Harry Potter joined, Slytherin dominated the tournament for seven consecutive years. However, all the former players have graduated, and the new players need time to gel... With Seeker Draco Malfoy returning to the field, can they continue their interrupted legend? Let's give them a round of applause!"

The stadium was silent for a few seconds, then erupted in a unified chant: "Glory to Slytherin!"

As Mrs. Hodge blew her whistle, fifteen brooms rose from the ground, along with the two teams and the referee.

The commentator passionately described the exciting moments, noting that the two Seekers had been locked in a close battle from start to finish, constantly marking each other without revealing any weaknesses, until the Golden Snitch appeared. Gryffindor immediately adopted a feinting tactic, with all the players pretending to hit the ball while helping Harry shake off Draco...

One hour later.

Slytherin was defeated.

Mrs. Hooch directed the two teams to shake hands and exchange greetings. Several players from both sides had their noses and eyes red from the cold wind, and their throats were so tight that they could barely speak.

……

The Headmasters of Gryffindor and Slytherin, and currently the only two Vice-Headmasters at Hogwarts, Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape sat side by side, watching the two teams shaking hands in the center of the pitch. One had a gentle smile on his face, while the other had a stern and hard expression.

Professor McGonagall glanced at Snape beside her and smiled wryly, "Time flies, doesn't it, Severus?"

"..."

Snape kept his eyes straight ahead, not wanting to speak.

No one understands the feeling of winning the championship for many consecutive years better than him.

Professor McGonagall continued, "Seven years have passed in the blink of an eye. Harry and the others have grown up. I still remember that sunny afternoon when they took their first flying lesson and made a lot of funny mistakes."

"Yes, it's been seven years."

Snape nodded expressionlessly: "I think you should consider the player replacement issue. They'll be graduating and leaving in a few months. Hopefully, Gryffindor can play normally next year and won't need to recruit new students as Seekers anymore."

"These kids are very considerate. They recruited new members last year, so even if they graduate and leave, the team will not be without new talent."

Professor McGonagall smiled broadly, her face full of kindness, clearly in a very good mood: "What a bright and kind bunch of children."

"..."

Snape glanced at the players from both sides, slowly realizing something was amiss, and fell silent.

Compared to Gryffindor, where the players are more evenly aged and come from all years, Slytherin's players seem to be more concentrated, mostly sixth and seventh year students. It is foreseeable that in the near future, there will be a gap in talent after graduation.

Snape began to make plans in his mind, his face still expressionless: "Slytherin will also begin training new players. I hope your matches will go just as smoothly next year."

"You too, Severus."

"..."

Flitwick and Professor Sprout remained silent, only occasionally exchanging glances that revealed a tacit understanding of mutual support.

……

That evening, in the corridor outside the underground kitchen.

The wide stone-paved corridor was quiet, and the warm yellow candlelight illuminated the oil paintings on both sides of the wall. One of them depicted a silver bowl full of fruit, with a lifelike pear in the center of the painting.

Draco walked back down the corridor, glancing down at the painting as he passed by. He looked at the pear, and all the seventh-year students knew that if you scratched that pear, it would laugh and turn into a large green handle. Grab it and pull open the door, and inside was Hogwarts' kitchen.

He had no appetite for a late-night snack at the moment, and only stayed there for a few seconds before continuing to walk deeper into the corridor. Just as his figure was about to disappear into the shadows, a commotion came from behind him.

One of the voices sounded particularly familiar.

Having spent hours battling it out on the court during the day, he was absolutely certain he'd heard right—it was Harry Potter.

Draco glanced around, then quickly walked behind the armor at the corner, concealing himself. Through the gaps in the armor, he secretly observed the approaching Gryffindors.

It was already curfew time, and the students who were out at night were not at all restrained. They casually approached the portrait. Some waited on both sides of the aisle, some had expectant eyes, and some pushed Harry to the portrait, urging him to scratch the pear, pull the exposed handle, and enter the kitchen.

All that could be heard after that was the chirping of birds.

"It's so dark inside."

"The house-elves haven't rested yet."

"They did it voluntarily, they don't need to rest."

"Are you an idiot?"

"What creature doesn't need rest...?"

"At previous victory parties, George and Fred would always fetch the food and drinks; they always managed to find some alcohol."

"Butterbeer?"

"..."

"Stop talking."

"Harry, it's all up to you now!"

"..."

The chaotic noises emanated from the kitchen, echoing through the enclosed corridor, and by the time they reached the armored figure in the corner, they had faded to almost inaudible.

Draco stared silently into the dimly lit kitchen, a glint of light in his eyes.

I really want to win just once.

……

(End of this chapter)