Chapter 625: Quidditch Tryouts
Chapter 625: Quidditch Tryouts
When Felix returned to his office, it was already late, and the sky had turned a deep, ink-black.
Valen yawned boredly, making the tip of his personal wand emit colorful sparks. He couldn’t understand why the person who had caused an explosion among the Slytherins could perform such extraordinary feats with a personal wand, despite having fewer gems.
As soon as Valen saw the Dark Lord open the door, he immediately jumped onto his shoulder and started chattering nonstop.
"You can’t compare him to Filch", Felix said. "Filch hasn’t touched magic for years, so even with a new personal wand, he still relies heavily on the built-in magic within the gems..." He glanced at his desk, where a few letters lay, along with scattered owl claw marks and cookie crumbs.
Valen patted his chest, indicating that he had entertained the guests.
"Good job."
Felix walked over to the desk, sat down, and opened the letters, quickly scanning through them. The first two were from Madam Bones and Lupin. The most unexpected was that Rita Skeeter had also written to him.
The letter writers briefly updated him on their current situations. Madam Bones’ letter was the shortest, as she had been writing regularly and had omitted many pleasantries.
"...Everything is fine. Sirius Black sent me a set of puzzles today, saying it’s a Muggle pastime... Merlin, I have no idea what’s going on in his head. Don’t I look busy enough already?" The following paragraphs were all about Sirius Black, mentioning his new job but mostly complaining. Apart from making Felix regret not catching him before the start of the school year, it had little use. "Not only he, but others are also gathering information, but I lack someone I can completely trust. There are rumors in the department that I’m preparing a comprehensive reform plan, but I feel more like a puppet. Felix Hep, you jerk, you never told me you opened ‘Future World’ stores in the Muggle world, seven of them!"
Felix grinned. After so many days of correspondence, he and Madam Bones had become more familiar—possibly because of Sirius Black. Felix noted this down and picked up his quill to write a reply.
"Amelia, those seven stores won’t be useful in the future. The employees don’t even know their boss is a magician, which would seriously dampen their work enthusiasm... Regarding the staffing issue, I do have some suggestions. If it’s for confidentiality, I recommend you expand the Muggle Affairs Department. The reason is clear: old laws can’t keep up with the times and need to be expanded, requiring a lot of data collection..."
Felix glanced at Rita Skeeter’s pink envelope and had an idea.
"...I can recommend someone who has a foothold in the Muggle press and access to valuable information, with a keen sense of media... You might have heard her name, Rita Skeeter. It’s strange how well she’s been doing these past two years, isn’t it?
Also, you should talk to Mundungus about smuggling issues. I’m sure you’ll be shocked, but don’t reveal any information to him—he’s notorious for selling information and can be bought with just a cup of hot firewhiskey when he’s in a bind..."
The second letter was from Lupin. Felix looked at the densely packed tables, clearly detailing official business.
"...A total of 127 personal wands have been sold, all to individuals with existing ties to the magical world, so they quickly passed the Ministry of Magic’s review.
The only exception is Arabella Figg. Dumbledore wrote to me specifically to plead her case, but it wasn’t necessary. When I saw she lived on Privet Drive, everything became clear... The Ministry’s office two streets away is packed with people, and many parents of students are also coming to try their luck. It’s quite a scene, though officially, it’s called ‘re-employment training.’ I don’t know who came up with that term... But honestly, they still need time to get official approval. The Wizarding world can’t absorb so many people at once..."
"Arthur is very happy these days. His son Percy is the youngest department head, reportedly younger than the former Chesterfield Avery. Of course, Avery is a thing of the past, and his death remains a mystery, with no Death Eaters admitting to the crime... Percy is now negotiating and preparing materials with fourteen countries’ Ministries of Magic, keeping himself extremely busy. Penelope says he plans to learn two more languages to surpass Mr. Crouch. I think that’s a daunting task..."
Felix happily wrote his reply.
However, when he opened Rita Skeeter’s letter, his mood soured. The woman was asking for money! She claimed the popularity of personal wands was her doing, and Felix disagreed. He didn’t recall ever suggesting that. When Felix relayed the content to Valen, he immediately gained a sympathetic ally. Valen even volunteered to help write the reply, and Felix agreed with a smile.
He read through the entire two pages of parchment without changing a single word, only adding a brief note at the end that the Ministry of Magic was wealthy and had opportunities to make extra money. But he warned her to keep her mouth shut, as the consequences would be far worse than those for an illegal Animagus...
After finishing these tasks, Felix stretched and walked to the window.
He gazed at the distant outline of the castle, the Forbidden Forest, and the dark mountains, his mind wandering to the tributary that had branched off from Voldemort’s memories. It was too early to call it a tributary; it was more like a small spring. Without Felix’s help, it wouldn’t exist at all.
The cool night breeze brushed against his face, carrying the scent of lush vegetation. Valen climbed up his leg, gazing at the shimmering Black Lake under the moonlight, and handed him a Chocolate Frog. Felix tore open the wrapper and bit off the head of the Chocolate Frog.
The sweetness and bitterness of the chocolate melted in his mouth as he examined the Chocolate Frog card. The card depicted an angry woman with long black hair and half-moon spectacles, holding a large sign that read 'No Spell Suppression.'
Felix glanced at the witch's name: Carlotta Pinkstone. He paused, the radical activist? He flipped the card to the back, and sure enough, her biography was printed there:
Carlotta Pinkstone (1922 - present)
An activist advocating for the repeal of the International Confederation of Wizards’ Secrecy Act and informing Muggles about the existence of magic. Ms. Pinkstone has been imprisoned multiple times for deliberately using magic in public places.
If his calculations were correct, this person would be released this year, a year before Barty Crouch. Felix decided to keep an eye on the recent newspapers; there were only four months left until the end of the year.
Felix yawned and rubbed his forehead. On his way back to the dormitory, he noticed the light still on in the Headmaster's Office tower. It seemed he wasn't the only one who couldn't sleep tonight. He wondered if the school would replace the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor at the speed of light.
As it turned out, Dumbledore had managed to persuade Grindelwald, and the next few classes were solely focused on Silent Spells. But Felix didn't believe for a moment that Grindelwald's subscription to Muggle military magazines was purely out of interest.
This wasn't an unfounded worry. Dumbledore had taken the Marauder's Map, likely to prevent the old man from sneaking out and bringing back a full set of Muggle military equipment as teaching aids.
It wouldn't be long before the curriculum progressed to the chapter on 'Identifying and Defending Against Small Arms.' Grindelwald wouldn't even need to worry about the syllabus; Felix had already provided detailed instructions in his 'Muggles' Magic.'
Due to the requirements for Silent Spells and wandless rune manifestation, students could be seen all over the school, their faces flushed as they stared at plants or food in their plates. If you watched them long enough, you'd see their expressions shift rapidly from aggressive to vacant. Felix saw this every year, but it still amused him. The students looked like programmed robots, their expressions remarkably similar. He thought about writing to the Weasley Twins to provide ideas for their new products.
Silent Spells weren't a specific spell but a set of casting techniques used in Defense Against the Dark Arts, Spellwork, and Transfiguration. The sudden strict requirements severely demoralized the sixth-year students, making them feel like they were back in the last two months before their O.W.L.s exams.
"Am I in a nightmare?" Seamus complained loudly. "Silent Spells, Ancient Runes requiring wandless magic, and Herbology making us deal with tentacles that spew sticky sap..."
After a couple of days, the students realized that none of the sixth-year advanced classes were easy. Especially Silent Spells and wandless rune manifestation, which couldn't be mastered in a short time. It was said that Professor Hup had announced in the fifth-year class that he had a large detention room prepared for students who failed to meet the requirements and didn't write their essays.
"It's true", Luna said to Ron at the Quidditch tryouts on Saturday.
Ron looked miserable. He hadn't even started his essay, and worse, he wasn't sure if he met the requirements. Hermione had advised him during breakfast not to hold out hope. "Unless the professor focuses on you for the entire class and gives you dozens of chances, which is impossible!"
Success rate, yes, that was the issue troubling all students in the Ancient Runes class.
Clearly, the professor was far more cunning than the young wizards imagined. He wouldn't give one person dozens of chances; that was unrealistic. The class was already large enough, and even Ron couldn't think of a reason why the professor would agree. The problem was that no student could achieve 100% success. Neville gave up early and borrowed the reference book list from Hermione, reading through the thick volumes diligently.
Seamus and Dean, influenced by their roommates, managed to read a few dozen pages, with a hypnotic effect that was surprisingly effective.
So when Ron's gaze shifted from the chaotic Quidditch pitch—where Harry, as captain, was busy—his jaw nearly dropped when he saw Luna's fingertips glowing with several runic symbols.
"How did you do that?" Ron asked, swallowing hard. He had seen clearly that Luna didn't have a wand in her hand.
"What do you mean?" Luna said cheerfully. She enjoyed both the noise and the quiet, so it was no surprise to see her there, especially since her good friend Ginny was also trying out. Ginny's fiery red hair was a striking sight on the field.
Ron pointed at the magical symbols in Luna's hand, his eyes wide.
"You have to befriend them", Luna said. "Each one has its own personality. Some I'm not very familiar with yet; they can be a bit temperamental... but overall, they're quite approachable."
"Can you tell me more?"
Ron was a bit confused, but he found her insights intriguing. Maybe he could include Luna's words in his essay?
Luna went into more detail. In her eyes, each Runic Symbol had its own character and mood. She could even tell stories about some of them, matching them to specific people. "I think this one looks like Harry", she said.
Ron stared at the purple Runic Symbol Luna pointed to, then looked at Harry, who was shouting himself hoarse on the field. He couldn't see any resemblance between the two. Was it because of the messy halo of light around the symbol, which resembled Harry's hair, or the flat lightning shape at the tip?
What confused him even more was why, in Luna's eyes, he was associated with an ugly, dingy yellow symbol.
"I think it looks like you. You both have the same dirty yellow color", Ron retorted, feeling insulted.
"It seems you've caught on", Luna said, then turned her attention back to the field.
Ron watched the game with a bit of a frown. He didn't understand how Luna made Ancient Runes class feel like Divination, but Professor Hup was nothing like Trelawney. If he dared to submit an essay with the same level of effort he put into Trelawney's class, Professor Hup would keep him in detention until Christmas.
...
Harry watched enviously as Ron and Katie Bell lounged comfortably in the stands. He felt the tryouts were a disaster. Because there was no age limit, many first and second-year students had signed up, taking up most of the spots. These students couldn't even manage to fly their brooms at full speed, let alone perform like actual players. For example, a Chaser had become so nervous that he flew himself into the goal, causing the crowd to burst into laughter.
Worse still, the boy, likely out of shame, rode his old Comet broom away and didn't return, apparently planning to hide in the castle. Harry had to chase after him to retrieve the broom but let the tearful boy go.
When Harry returned to the field, he felt like he had taken on the boy's role. Half the spectators pointed and laughed at him.
Harry was glad Hermione hadn't come. He had refused most of her suggestions, claiming she didn't understand Quidditch. This seemed to hurt her pride, so when she arrived, the tryouts were nearly over. In the end, Harry took the new players for a lap around the field, and the students on the stands clapped politely.
"So, the tryouts went smoothly?" Hermione asked shrewdly as they got off their brooms.
"The results are promising", Harry said stubbornly, resolving to refuse any detailed questions by citing team secrecy. But Hermione only glanced at the departing crowd, raising an eyebrow without comment.
"It was like a wonderful farce", Luna said cheerfully.
Hermione and Ginny laughed so hard they bent over. Ron didn't laugh, which made Harry appreciate their strong friendship.
"Let's go. I saw smoke coming from Hagrid's hut when I arrived", Hermione said matter-of-factly.
Harry pretended not to notice the tears in her eyes.
Luna and Ginny left mysteriously, and the remaining three turned and walked toward Hagrid's hut.
They were going to mend a friendship on the verge of breaking, a decision made because they had wisely not chosen Hagrid's advanced class. Ron, pessimistic as ever, predicted that Hagrid would have Grawp guarding the door with a large club, and they would have to risk their lives to see the sulking Hagrid.
As they approached the small wooden hut, they heard a loud sniffing sound. The three of them exchanged cautious glances.
"Oh, no", Hermione said sadly, clearly thinking Hagrid was crying.
Even Harry and Ron assumed the same. It couldn't be a cold, could it? They approached uneasily, trying to figure out how to comfort Hagrid. They hadn't considered any other possibilities, which is why Harry was so surprised when, after knocking on the door, he heard a second voice inside.
"Yes, those ungrateful little brats... Potter never wrote to me once, not even a single letter, and I gave him that precious Felix Felicis!" Slughorn said absentmindedly. "Hagrid, can I attend its funeral? I've never been so close to an Acromantula..."
(End of Chapter)
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