Broomstick Games

His Hogwarts held a magical aura.

Despite being in a foreign land, a boarding school, and the negative buffs of the boys' dorm, none of it affected Basil's unique love for the castle and the school itself.

Every professor inside, except for Snape and Quirrell. Old geezer Dumbledore was the headmaster, so he didn't count either.

As he got to know them, he grew closer to all of them.

They were no longer hollow characters depicted in mere minutes of a movie.

Instead, they were kind teachers who accompanied him daily and dedicated themselves to his studies.

In less than a month of interaction.

Professor McGonagall became Basil's favorite teacher, bar none.

She was a strict witch.

She really liked plaid patterns; her morning robes, travel bags, and handkerchiefs were all trimmed with plaid.

She also maintained a serious demeanor and was impartial in all matters.

But Quidditch was the sole exception.

Basil had always been curious about this.

Especially since Ron hadn't managed to get any inside information.

Nearly Headless Nick understood this as well.

But today, he might have miscalculated.

Basil wasn't getting excited about any of this.

The gloom brought by working and studying during the holidays was something no distraction could dispel.

"This all goes back to your seventh year, with your Professor McGonagall."

"Back then, she was a Seeker."

"She had already decided to go into the Ministry of Magic after graduation and give up Quidditch."

"It was a final match, Gryffindor versus Slytherin."

"The outcome of this match would determine the winner of the Quidditch Cup."

"However, just as young McGonagall was about to touch the Golden Snitch, to put a perfect period on her Quidditch career—"

Nick drew out his words.

Basil's face remained somber.

But the students who had gathered around gave Nick the motivation to continue.

"Boom! A Bludger. Bang! Along with a bat, it struck young McGonagall's chest and head in quick succession."

Ron, Neville, Seamus, Dean from the next dormitory, and others shot to their feet, exclaiming in unison, "It was Slytherin!"

Nick nodded. "The result was that Slytherin was penalized for a foul, but with the loss of their Seeker, Gryffindor still lost the match."

"From that day on, seeing the Slytherin Quidditch team lose a match became young McGonagall's greatest wish!"

"She didn't miss a single match that had Slytherin playing."

Nick looked pointedly at Basil.

He seemed not to have given up yet.

"Speaking of Quidditch. I'm sure you're all curious about when your flying lessons will start, right?"

"I'll give you advance notice: this Thursday, you will have your very first flying lesson!"

Basil remained unmoved.

Even as the young wizards from all the wizarding families started to get excited.

He was an exception.

This was because his parents had been killed by Death Eaters while playing Devon's most popular Aerial Collision.

Even before he awakened his memories, he didn't have the same fondness for Quidditch as children from other wizarding families.

But the sport the surrounding young wizards were discussing still caught his ear.

They were all talking about their local broomstick games.

Ron from Devon was the first to stand up.

He spoke of the Knightly sport in the sky, the Aerial Collision game.

Everyone held a long, blunt-tipped stick, like knights, using flying broomsticks as their steeds, dueling in the sky.

Until the very last one.

And he, Ron himself, was the greatest knight.

No young wizard could survive his lance.

A Hufflepuff young wizard, who claimed to be from Herefordshire, stepped forward.

He claimed aerial collisions were too barbaric, lacking any demonstration of broom-riding skill.

"The backward broom riding of our Herefordshire is the sport that truly showcases a rider's technique."

"You fix a pig's bladder in the air."

"The athletes take off from the same distance."

"Riding backward, they use the tail end of the broom to strike the bladder."

"The first to reach 50 points wins."

Seamus raised his goblet, expressing disdain.

Hailing from Ireland, he began to introduce their hometown broom game, the Stilts Fire Barrel.

"Each athlete, holding what's called a Dom, a goat's bladder."

"They quickly pass through burning barrels, set high on stilts."

"The one who finishes without catching fire is the victor."

"This is the perfect combination of skill and courage."

"Backward broom riding is merely a circus act!"

Finally, Ernie Macmillan of Hufflepuff from Scotland stepped forward.

"All of you here, the sports you speak of are trash."

"No sport can compare to our Scottish Cauldron on the Head."

"It is the symbol of courage, the ultimate test of manliness and bravery."

The atmosphere immediately fell silent.

Ron grumbled indignantly, "That's cheating!"

On the Gryffindor table, not a single person spoke up to refute him.

After they heard the name of the sport.

Basil's curiosity was finally piqued.

"Elaborate?"

Basil's excellent performance in class, his boldness unlike Hermione's, his disregard for rules, and his handsome features undoubtedly made him the leader of his Gryffindor year.

He was also quite famous in other houses.

Therefore, seeing it was Basil, Macmillan immediately nodded.

"This is a game that faces death and blood, showcasing the athlete's courage!"

"Twelve athletes wear cauldrons on their heads."

"Above them, suspended one hundred feet from the ground, are up to a hundred magically enchanted stones of varying sizes!"

"As the game begins, the athletes must take flight and catch the stones with the cauldrons on their heads."

"The athlete who catches the most, and survives, is the victor!"

Seamus spoke with increasing excitement, finally reciting a poem.

"Twelve handsome and strong lads,"

"Gathered on the field,"

"Cauldrons strapped to their belts, quietly,"

"Awaiting flight,"

"Upon hearing a signal,"

"They swiftly ascend into the sky,"

"However, ten heroic athletes,"

"Are destined to die."

Finally, he lamented, "Unfortunately, Cauldron on the Head was outlawed in 1762."

Basil's mouth hung open, no sound escaping.

It was as if he'd been hit with a Bebbing Charm.

No wonder no Gryffindor had spoken up; this was a complete mismatch.

Twelve athletes, only two survive?

Such a high mortality rate.

It was no wonder there were fewer Scottish wizards.

Thursday seemed to arrive in the blink of an eye.

In the morning, almost all students were immersed in the anticipation of the upcoming flying lesson.

For once, Hermione didn't pester Basil.

She kept chattering to the others about the flying tips she'd read in Quidditch Through the Ages.

She said this was another good opportunity to earn points.

Let's all work together to win the House Cup this year.

Basil thought it was futile.

Everyone was classmates, and most wizarding families' children had flown a broomstick, except for Neville.

Hermione had only read books, and this would just be annoying to others.

As expected, everyone except Neville showed looks of disdain.

Only Neville listened intently to every word Hermione spoke, eagerly hoping to hear some useful knowledge that could help him stay firmly on his flying broomstick later.

Even Harry, who thought he would be embarrassed in flying class, wasn't paying attention.

Instead, he was asking Ron about flying techniques.

Hermione, however, didn't notice any of this and remained immersed in her speech.

Just as Basil was about to warn her, the owls arrived.

Hermione shut her mouth.

Basil looked enviously at the other students who had letters to receive.

He was an orphan and couldn't afford to subscribe to newspapers.

So, no one sent him any mail.

Harry was the same; apart from Hagrid's message in the first week of September, he hadn't received any letters.

Now, the two of them were in the same boat.

No, there was one more person.

It was Malfoy, at the Slytherin table.

When school first started, he would often receive candy delivered by owls.

He would then proudly open them at the Slytherin table and share them with the students around him.

But recently, it seemed he hadn't been receiving anything from owls either.

Those two little fat guys, Crabbe and Goyle, who followed him like sentries, also didn't pay much attention to him anymore.

He seemed more like a follower now.

Thanks to student Xuzhinan, student LKM, and student Xiaoxiaoxin for their monthly passes and other students for their recommendations!