Wood: Can Vizet Join the Gryffindor Quidditch Team?

An invisible force wrapped around Anthony's entire body, lifting him slightly until he hovered ten centimeters above the ground.

Anthony gasped for breath, the stench of dirt and grass filling his nose. The feeling of surviving a disaster sent a chill down his spine.

"Vizet? Mr. Goldstein?" Professor McGonagall's stern voice rang out. "What happened to you two... Why did something go wrong during your Flying lesson again?"

Three minutes earlier.

"Professor McGonagall, after tomorrow's Quidditch tryouts, could you let us use the Quidditch Pitch?"

"Harry's only a first-year. He needs more practice coordinating with us." Oliver Wood followed behind Professor McGonagall as he asked the question.

As captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch Team, he had always set his sights on the Quidditch Cup.

With Charlie Weasley's graduation, that goal seemed to be drifting farther and farther away—until Professor McGonagall recommended Harry Potter to him.

"I can discuss it with Professor Snape. He already applied to use the pitch two days ago." Professor McGonagall nodded.

Wood was growing impatient. "How about letting them practice for two fewer hours? Half the time each would be perfect!"

"I'll give it a try." Professor McGonagall turned around and looked sternly at Wood. "I know you're in a hurry, and I'm in a hurry too, but the pitch belongs to everyone."

Seeing the anxious look on Wood's face, she suddenly realized something was wrong. "Mr. Wood, it's class time. Why aren't you in the History of Magic classroom?"

Wood instantly broke into a cold sweat. His eyes darted around as he searched for something unrelated to distract Professor McGonagall's attention.

"Professor McGonagall, look! They're having a Flying lesson over there. Something seems to have gone wrong again!"

Professor McGonagall remained unmoved. "Mr. Wood, I hope you can answer my question directly!"

As the head of Gryffindor House, she knew Wood all too well. As long as Quidditch wasn't involved, Wood was quite disciplined.

But whenever anything related to Quidditch happened, Wood became an entirely different person, growing fanatically passionate...

Just like he was now.

"Incredible speed! What a beautiful dive—so agile! How does he look like he was born to fly? That's a Shooting Star! An antique from 1955! It's got problem after problem..."

Wood rattled off a string of words at astonishing speed. "So he's rescuing someone... He should be able to save him... No, wait! Professor McGonagall, someone's falling!"

Professor McGonagall hurriedly turned her head. The moment she saw Vizet controlling his Flying Broomstick in a dive while another student plummeted toward the ground, her pupils shrank to pinpricks.

She quickly drew her Wand. Just as she was about to turn the grass into an air cushion, Silver-Blue Light burst from Vizet's Wand and halted the student's fall.

Neither of them was hurt, and Professor McGonagall let out a sigh of relief as she hurried toward them. "Vizet? Mr. Goldstein? What happened to you two... Why did something go wrong during your Flying lesson again?"

"Merlin's beard!" Madam Hooch finally arrived, panting heavily. "Are you two all right? Did you hurt yourselves anywhere? I'll take you to see Madam Pomfrey!"

"This is too much! Yesterday, one child broke his wrist trying to outdo everyone else, and today a Flying Broomstick malfunctioned... Why does this keep happening lately?"

"Madam Hooch, you're too nervous." Professor McGonagall adjusted her glasses. "Accidents during Flying lessons are quite common. Please don't worry about it."

"Vizet, Mr. Goldstein, do you feel unwell anywhere? Should I take you to the Hospital Wing for a checkup?"

"I'm fine, I'm fine!" Anthony waved his hands repeatedly. "That was pretty exciting! I thought I was about to die!"

"Stop saying things like that!" Madam Hooch clutched her chest. "Problems like this have happened two days in a row. Professor Trelawney was right—I'm going to have terrible luck lately!"

"Professor Trelawney?" Professor McGonagall raised her eyebrows and gave a light cough. "You really don't need to worry. It was just an accident."

Wood picked up the malfunctioning Flying Broomstick and examined it. "It really was an accident. The branches have aged to the point where they can't be used anymore... Even if nothing happened today, something would have gone wrong sooner or later."

"These Flying Broomsticks are all forty or fifty-year-old antiques. It would be best to replace them soon. If we keep using them, quite a few promising talents might be buried."

"Madam Hooch, go back to your class! I'll submit an application to replace these Flying Broomsticks," Professor McGonagall said. "Wood, you should go back too!"

Madam Hooch led Vizet and the others away. Wood's expression became deeply conflicted. "Professor McGonagall, could Vizet join our team?"

"Although I haven't seen Harry's true abilities yet, I've witnessed Vizet's! If both of them joined the Gryffindor Quidditch Team..."

"We'd definitely win the championship this year!" His eyes seemed to glow with hope. "If we don't win, I'll eat spaghetti while standing on my head!"

"Mr. Wood, hurry back to class!" Professor McGonagall's eyebrows rose high. "Otherwise... I'll have no choice but to deduct points!"

Watching Wood flee, Professor McGonagall covered her forehead. "I want Vizet to join the team too, but unfortunately, he's a Ravenclaw."

Deep Night, Hogwarts Headmaster's Office.

Dumbledore flipped through a copy of Today's Transfiguration. "A week has passed. What do you think?"

Snape paced back and forth in the Headmaster's Office, his voice dragging just like his footsteps. "Terrible! Absolutely terrible! Mediocre and arrogant, just like his father."

"He enjoys breaking the rules and has the same unhealthy obsession with showing off. He simply loves attracting everyone else's attention, yet he knows nothing. Ridiculous!"

"Severus, you may only be seeing what you want to see." Dumbledore spoke softly. "The other Professors all say he's humble and easygoing, with decent talent as well. He's a likable child."

"Oh, and what does that matter?" Snape replied without expression.

Dumbledore set down the copy of Today's Transfiguration. "What about the other child, then? There was once someone who shared similarities with him, with equally outstanding talent and a more handsome appearance."

"He had an intense thirst for knowledge and was similarly favored by the Professors—especially Professor Slughorn back then, who even invited him to join the Slug Club."

"I also heard an interesting rumor. You awarded five points to Ravenclaw. Accomplishing that could hardly have been easier than joining the Slug Club..."

Snape seemed to recall something unpleasant, and his expression grew even darker. He even stopped pacing.

Dumbledore continued asking, "Severus, what do you think of him?"

Snape's cheeks twitched, and his voice carried a few more fluctuations. "Since you've noticed the similarities, you can simply strangle him in the cradle. You don't need to ask me!"