Chapter 164: Damn that Sorting Hat
Chapter 164: Damn that Sorting Hat
Ten minutes passed by quickly, and as the whistle blew, Kyle threw the Quaffle in his hand, high in the air, at the very last second.
However, due to the distance, the Quaffle was eventually intercepted by Harris, finally breaking his "zero" record.
At that moment, the numbers on the scoreboard next to the pitch froze at 210 points, representing a total of 21 goals scored by Kyle in those ten minutes.
It was already frightening enough to score two goals per minute when one had to run across the entire pitch to catch the Quaffle.
The three Quaffles took turns being thrown and were almost not enough; in the end, it was only with Professor McGonagall's support from the sidelines, using the Engorgement Charm to provide two more Quaffles, that they barely made it to the end.
"Merlin's beard, I never want to be a goalkeeper again!"
Back on solid ground, Harris heaved a sigh of relief. In those ten minutes, he truly experienced what it meant to be painfully happy.
He was happy because Hufflepuff had produced a genius Chaser. Barring any accidents, that second-year student named Kyle would undoubtedly become the key to their winning the Quidditch Cup.
Harris himself was one of the best Chasers in Hogwarts, and more than half of Hufflepuff's points in every match were scored by him.
But the problem was that the other two Chasers' skills were far inferior to his, and the three of them could hardly coordinate well. Almost every goal was achieved solely by his own effort.
This was undoubtedly a great test of his stamina, hence the saying that Hufflepuff was not good at protracted battles.
Furthermore, if he were closely guarded by the opposing players or had to leave the game due to injury, Hufflepuff would immediately be at a disadvantage.
Fortunately, last year, a genius Seeker named Cedric emerged. With him on the field searching for the Golden Snitch, it was difficult for the other Houses to drag the game out for too long.
With the addition of this year's Kyle, Hufflepuff's biggest weakness had been suddenly rectified.
Harris felt as though he could already see the Quidditch Cup waving at him; how could he not be happy?
As for the pain... that was simple, too.
Anyone who had been fooled like a fool for ten minutes would feel the same.
"Captain, it's a good thing you didn't sign up to be a goalkeeper," one of the team members teased, "otherwise, we might never have gotten our hands on the Quidditch Cup."
"Shut up, Fiero!" Harris glared at him, "I feel like your technique has been slipping lately. Come for special training tomorrow morning at eight o'clock."
"Eight o'clock!"
Fiero couldn't smile anymore; he said with a bitter face, "Special training is fine, but how about ten o'clock... no, nine o'clock! Nine o'clock is fine, too!"
Unlike the studious Ravenclaws or the energetic Gryffindors, Hufflepuff students generally slept in on weekends.
Eight o'clock was a bit too harsh.
"No!" Harris coldly hmphed, "Remember, be here at eight in the morning. One minute late and you'll have an extra hour of practice."
After saying that, Harris strode directly into the middle of the pitch.
Although Kyle's performance was perfect, the process still had to continue.
He looked at the remaining two students and asked, "Who's next?"
The two fifth-year students looked at each other and shook their heads decisively.
One of them spread his hands and said, "No thanks, I forfeit."
Even if Harris had deliberately underperformed at the end, it would still be impossible for him to complete the task even if Kyle's score was halved.
He was genuinely delighted to see another talented individual emerge from Hufflepuff.
"Ahem... Remember, the professors are watching, so keep it together," Harris chided with a straight face, feigning sternness.
It was fine to be happy, but they needed to maintain their composure in front of the professors. There would be time to celebrate once they returned to their common room. After all, it wouldn't do to draw too much attention and risk incurring the professors' wrath.
Harris did his best to suppress his excitement and forced himself to look solemn.
"Since you both choose to forfeit, then..."
He walked up to Kyle, extended his hand, and said, "Congratulations, Kyle. You're now our official Chaser."
"It's an honor, Captain," Kyle replied, shaking his hand.
Professor Sprout, sitting in the stands, wore a smile as bright as the blooming blue borage.
However, the same couldn't be said for Professor McGonagall, who sat beside her. She tightly clutched her copy of 'Advanced Transfiguration Guide', her body still trembling from the ordeal.
The pain was excruciating! Why couldn't such a brilliant Quidditch player be in Gryffindor?! She was certain that with Kyle and Harry Potter on the team, Gryffindor would be unstoppable.
But alas, he belonged to Hufflepuff.
Damn that Sorting Hat...
"Achoo!"
Up in the Headmaster's office, the Sorting Hat, which had been working on a new song, suddenly sneezed.
"How odd," Dumbledore said curiously, glancing at the hat. "Do hats catch colds?"
"I don't know, but I shouldn't. I'm just a hat, after all," the Sorting Hat replied, trying to rub its head with its brim, but failing since it couldn't reach. It settled for wiping its 'mouth' instead.
"Albus, I think someone must be thinking ill of me," the Sorting Hat said.
"I'd rather believe you've caught a cold," Dumbledore suggested with a smile.
"According to my knowledge, no student dislikes their own house. So, how could they possibly harbor ill thoughts about me?" the Sorting Hat reasoned.
"That's true..." The Sorting Hat nodded in agreement. Its decisions were never wrong.
"Could I really have caught a cold?" The Sorting Hat questioned itself, falling into a state of self-doubt. But it was just a hat, and it didn't recall Godric Gryffindor incorporating a 'catching a cold' setting when he created it!
"I don't know if a stimulant will work on you... but would you like to try?" Dumbledore offered, reaching into the air and producing a small bottle.
"This is the most effective remedy for a cold."
"Then I guess it's worth a try," the Sorting Hat said, opening its mouth. "By the way, your magic has improved significantly, Albus."
"Just a little trick," Dumbledore said calmly, pouring the stimulant into the Sorting Hat's mouth, or rather, onto its brim, as it couldn't actually consume anything. External application would have to do.
The brown liquid seeped into the Sorting Hat, leaving a large dark brown stain that made it look even dirtier.
However, neither of them paid any mind to that.
"How do you feel now?" Dumbledore asked.
"I think... I'm much better," the Sorting Hat said, pursing its brim. "At least the sneezing has stopped."
(End of Chapter)
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