Wood: Can Wizet Join the Gryffindor Team?

An invisible force wrapped around Anthony's entire body, lifted him slightly, and left him suspended ten centimeters above the ground.

Anthony gasped for breath in great gulps, his nose filled with the raw smell of soil and grass. The feeling of having narrowly escaped death sent a chill down his spine.

"Wizet? Mr. Goldstein?" Professor McGonagall's stern voice rang out. "You... how has another accident happened in flying class?"

Time went back to 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 to practice coordination with us more." Oliver Wood followed behind Professor McGonagall as he asked.

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

With Charlie Weasley's graduation, that goal had seemed to drift farther and farther away from him, until Professor McGonagall recommended Harry Potter to him.

"I can discuss it with Professor Snape. He already applied to requisition the pitch the day before yesterday," Professor McGonagall said with a nod.

Wood was somewhat impatient. "What if we let them practice two hours less? Half the time for each side would be perfect!"

"I will try." Professor McGonagall turned around and looked at Wood with a grave expression. "I know you're anxious, and I'm anxious too, but the pitch is shared by everyone."

Looking at Wood's anxious face, she suddenly realized something was wrong. "Mr. Wood, it is class time right now. Why are you not in the A History of Magic classroom?"

Wood instantly broke out in a cold sweat, his eyes darting all over the place as he tried to find something unrelated to divert Professor McGonagall's attention.

"Look, Professor McGonagall! They're having flying class over there. It looks like there's been another accident!"

Professor McGonagall was unmoved. "Mr. Wood, I would like you to answer my question directly!"

As the head of Gryffindor House, she understood Wood all too well. As long as it did not involve matters related to Quidditch, Wood was still very rule-abiding.

But once something related to Quidditch happened, Wood seemed to become an entirely different person, abnormally fanatical...

Just like now.

"Incredible speed! Beautiful dive, so agile! How does he look like he was born knowing how to fly? That's a Shooting Star! An antique from 1955! Problem after problem..."

Wood spoke at an astonishing speed, rattling off a whole string of words. "So he's saving someone... he should be able to save him... no! Professor McGonagall, someone's about to fall!"

Professor McGonagall hurriedly turned her head. The instant she saw Wizet controlling the Flying Broomstick in a dive while another student plummeted toward the ground, her pupils shrank to pinpoints.

She quickly drew her wand. Just as she was about to turn the lawn into a cushion, silver-blue light burst from Wizet's wand, halting the student's downward momentum.

No accident befell either of them. Professor McGonagall let out a breath of relief and strode quickly toward them. "Wizet? Mr. Goldstein? You... how has another accident happened in flying class?"

"Merlin's beard!" Madam Hooch finally arrived, panting as she said, "You weren't hurt, were you? Did you break anything? I'll take you to see Madam Pomfrey!"

"This is really enough! Yesterday, a child was too competitive and broke his wrist, and today it's another Flying Broomstick malfunction... why has it been like this lately?"

"Madam Hooch, you're too nervous." Professor McGonagall adjusted her glasses. "Accidents in flying class are quite common. Please don't take it to heart."

"Wizet, Mr. Goldstein, are either of you feeling unwell? Do you need me to take you to the hospital wing for a look?"

"I'm fine, I'm fine!" Anthony waved his hands repeatedly. "It was actually pretty exciting! I almost thought I was going to die!"

"Stop talking at once!" Madam Hooch clutched her chest. "Problems like this have happened two days in a row. Professor Trelawney was right. I'm going to be unlucky lately!"

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

Wood picked up the faulty Flying Broomstick and inspected it. "It was indeed an accident. The twigs were so old they couldn't be used anymore... even if nothing had happened today, something would have happened sooner or later."

"These Flying Broomsticks are all antiques from forty or fifty years ago. It would be best to replace the lot of them sooner. If they keep being used, quite a few promising talents might be buried."

"Madam Hooch, go back to class! I will submit an application to replace this batch of Flying Broomsticks," Professor McGonagall said. "Wood, you should go back as well!"

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

"Although I haven't seen Harry's true ability yet, I have seen Wizet's! If both of them join the Gryffindor team..."

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

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

Watching Wood flee in panic, Professor McGonagall covered her forehead. "I'd like Wizet to join the team too, but unfortunately he's in Ravenclaw."

Late at night, in the headmaster's office at Hogwarts.

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

Snape paced back and forth in the headmaster's office, his tone as drawn-out as his steps. "Dreadful! Absolutely dreadful! As mediocre and arrogant as his father."

"He likes breaking discipline and has the same fanaticism for showing off. He simply likes attracting other people's attention, yet understands nothing. Ridiculous!"

"Severus, perhaps you have only seen what you wanted to see," Dumbledore said softly. "The other professors all say he is modest and easygoing, with decent talent as well. A likable child."

"Oh, and what of it?" Snape responded expressionlessly.

Dumbledore set down the Transfiguration Today in his hand. "Then what about the other child? There was once someone who bore similarities to him, equally extraordinary in aptitude, and rather more handsome in appearance."

"He possessed an extreme thirst for knowledge and was likewise favored by the professors, especially Professor Slughorn back then, who even allowed him to join the Slug Club."

"I also heard an anecdote: you awarded Ravenclaw five points. Achieving that would be no less difficult than joining the Slug Club..."

Snape seemed to think of something unpleasant. His expression turned even uglier, and even his pacing stopped.

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

Snape's cheeks moved, and his voice gained a few more fluctuations. "Since you have noticed the similarities, you can simply strangle him in the cradle. There is no need to ask me!"