Quidditch Match

Dylan's eyelashes fluttered, and he nearly fanned Professor McGonagall into catching a cold.

Once he realized what he had done, he awkwardly scratched his head and laughed.

Professor McGonagall also chuckled softly.

With a lift of her wand, the cup beside her moved over.

"Please do it again."

"Lactea repleta!" Sizzle, sizzle~

The cup was quickly filled with milk tea, its rich fragrance spreading through the air.

Professor McGonagall reached out, first examining the drink conjured with magic.

Then she looked up at Dylan.

"Is this tea?"

"Milk tea."

Dylan smiled with his lips pressed together.

Professor McGonagall realized it too. "So whether I ask for tea or milk, you'll conjure this?"

Dylan nodded. "You're very clever, Professor!"

Professor McGonagall laughed, shaking her head, then swirled the cup.

A fine layer of foam floated on the surface of the milk tea, its color enticing.

Smelling the fragrance at the tip of her nose, Professor McGonagall took a small sip.

Suddenly, her eyes widened slightly. She seemed somewhat surprised by the milk tea's flavor.

"The texture is silky smooth, the sweetness is just right, and it has a pleasant tea fragrance."

A hint of approval showed in Professor McGonagall's eyes.

"Although it's a product of magic, the taste is quite good. Mr. Hawkwood, it seems you've achieved some very interesting practical results in your study of charms."

Dylan's eyes lit up when he heard Professor McGonagall's praise.

"Oh, I'm glad you like it, Professor."

He also picked up the milk tea in front of him and took a sip.

"Summoning is a branch of Transfiguration. While studying Transfiguration, I happened to make a new discovery about Summoning, which led to this little experiment. I didn't expect it to succeed so unexpectedly."

Professor McGonagall took another sip, then set down the cup. She looked at Dylan with a gentle, kindly gaze, the corners of her lips lifting into a rare smile.

"If I'm not mistaken, this should be a variation of Aguamenti, right?"

Dylan nodded lightly. "I did use it as a reference."

"This could actually be considered the creation of a new spell. I'm very surprised you were able to take it this far."

Professor McGonagall smiled, then suddenly changed the subject.

"However, researching spells is very dangerous. If you want to create any new spells in the future, you can come to me. I'll give you my advice."

"Ah, wouldn't that be too much trouble for you, Professor?" Dylan was secretly delighted, but he said it with embarrassed reluctance.

"It's no trouble. It's been a long time since I've seen such a creative spell appear." Professor McGonagall looked at Dylan. "The same goes for a young wizard."

Dylan chuckled. "As for this spell, I only adjusted its sweetness and flavor."

"I'm researching how to conjure the toppings directly. Otherwise, this can't really be considered milk tea."

"There's no rush, Dylan. As it happens, there's something I wanted to ask you." Professor McGonagall looked at him.

"What is it, Professor?"

"About the Quidditch Match," Professor McGonagall said.

Huh?

Dylan immediately relaxed, then couldn't help blinking. "The Quidditch Match? What about it?"

During this period, someone had apparently let slip that Harry had joined the Quidditch Team.

It had driven Wood nearly insane.

Harry was his carefully trained secret player, and he had been waiting for him to soar during the match. But now the secret had been exposed.

"The match begins in two days. Would you be interested in joining Gryffindor's Quidditch Team?"

Dylan stared blankly. "Me? Professor, why would you ask that? My grades in Flying Class aren't exactly good."

Professor McGonagall sat upright. "You don't need to hide it from me. Whenever you have Flying Class, I stand here and watch. I've noticed that you don't actually lack the ability to fly... you're deliberately trying to remain steady."

The moment Professor McGonagall said this, Dylan knew she had discovered how he had been hiding his true ability during Flying Class.

"I can't believe you noticed." Dylan touched his nose.

Professor McGonagall smiled. "My understanding of flying is no worse than Madam Hooch's."

Dylan thought about it and realized that was indeed true. Professor McGonagall was a seasoned Quidditch fan.

Her research into flying might be as profound as her understanding of Transfiguration.

"I can sense that when you're researching spells, you appear aggressive but are actually extremely steady. When you fly, you remain very stable, as if you're afraid of falling. That shows your fundamentals are very solid."

Dylan tugged at the corner of his mouth.

He decided to take Professor McGonagall's words as praise.

It was true that he could fly wildly around the sky at incredible speeds.

Yet instinctively, he wanted to control every movement perfectly while flying, even those with the slightest chance of going wrong.

It wasn't that he was afraid of dying. He was simply meticulous and steady in everything he did!

"Thank you for your praise. It's just that I have too much magical knowledge to study every day, so I'm sorry, but I can't accept."

Dylan shook his head.

Seeing that Professor McGonagall seemed about to persuade him further, he added, "Besides, I'm really not very interested in Quidditch."

That sentence immediately blocked whatever Professor McGonagall had been about to say.

"All right. Everyone has their own interests, and you can't force these things." Professor McGonagall nodded regretfully.

That evening, after returning.

Harry excitedly approached Dylan.

"Hey, Dylan, the Quidditch Match is the day after tomorrow. You'll definitely come watch me, right?"

"Uh..." Dylan hesitated for a moment.

But when he saw the anticipation shining in Harry's eyes, like two spotlights that nearly blinded him with their glare,

he rubbed his temples and nodded lightly. "I will."

"Yay!" Harry immediately jumped up in excitement.

When the Quidditch Match was about to begin,

it was eleven in the morning.

Almost the entire Hogwarts faculty and student body had come.

The Spectator Stands were packed, a vast dark mass of people.

Golden, white, and black heads mingled together, looking like countless mushrooms.

Dylan arrived from the library right on time.

When he reached the seat Ron had specifically saved for him,

he looked up and saw Seamus, Ron, and the others holding up a banner.

The banner had been made from a filthy bedsheet, with several large words written on it in ink—

"Potter is the best!!!"

Yes, there were three exclamation marks.

Dylan stared at the dirty sheet swaying back and forth above his head, his whole face filled with shock.

He lightly scratched his cheek. "What's this supposed to be?"

"Cheering him on!" Ron shouted excitedly.

Dylan looked toward Hermione again.

Hermione merely waved her wand, causing the writing on the sheet to gradually change color and become increasingly vivid and eye-catching.

Dylan's eyes widened even further. "You..."

"Harry is sure to win!"