Goalkeeper Tryouts

September 6th, Friday, finally arrived. This also meant that the first week of school was finally coming to an end, and the little wizards who had been overwhelmed by a week of heavy schoolwork could finally have a rare moment of respite.

On a September morning, a gentle breeze blew across the Hogwarts Quidditch Pitch, golden sunlight spilled across the lawn, and the air was filled with the fresh scent of earth and autumn leaves. The Gryffindor Quidditch Team selections were in full swing, and today's focus was on selecting the goalkeeper.

Angelina Jensen stood in the center of the field and announced loudly, "Today's selection focuses on the goalkeeper. We need a reliable enough defense to ensure that our goals are not easily equalized by the opponents."

On the sidelines, several candidates were eager to try, including Ron Weasley and Vicki Frobisher. Ron gripped his old broom tightly, looking nervous, while Vicki appeared quite calm, her hand lightly brushing the broom handle, her blue eyes full of focus.

Wood had left behind a strict set of goalkeeper training standards, so Angelina naturally wouldn't make the assessment too easy. The first round was a basic reaction test, in which several official players took turns throwing Quaffle at the goalkeepers to observe their interception abilities.

Ron went first. Fred and George took turns throwing Quaffle, and Ron dove around to block them, but his reactions were noticeably slow, and he missed two opportunities to catch the ball. Although he tried to adjust, he still seemed to be struggling.

When it was Vicki's turn, she hovered steadily in front of the goal on her broomstick, her expression calm and composed. George Quaffle the Quaffle first, with incredible speed—but Vicki had already adjusted her position and easily blocked it almost the instant it left her hand. Immediately afterward, Fred suddenly made a feint, trying to fool her, but Vicki wasn't fooled at all and intercepted the ball precisely.

"His reaction speed is amazing!" Lee Jordan exclaimed excitedly from the sidelines.

To be fair, Ron's skills weren't bad. Although he wasn't as good as his predecessor Wood and was slightly worse than Vicki, he still had room for improvement. Unfortunately, the Broomstick he used was really bad, which made his already inferior personality even more lacking in self-confidence. The combination of the broom's quality and his lack of self-confidence greatly affected his performance.

After a short break, Angelina led her team in a simulated match. The attacking players took turns dribbling the ball and attacking the goal, testing the goalkeeper's ability to react.

Ron did his best, but he was always a step too slow against Angelina's precise shots. He managed to save a few, but missed many more.

In contrast, Vicky's performance was a revelation. She could not only accurately predict the trajectory of the ball, but also quickly adjust her position, leaving the Quaffle with virtually nowhere to go.

"She's really strong," Angelina murmured, watching Vicki skillfully flip through the air and easily block George's shot.

After the test, the selection results were almost a foregone conclusion.

Vicki Frobisher is undoubtedly the best performing player. With a little training, catching up with Wood's level is not a problem, and he may even surpass Wood to become an even better goalkeeper.

"Frobisher, you're the best wrestler today," Angelina said solemnly. "If you'd like to join us, we can guarantee you the best broom, and we can adjust your daily training schedule. Gryffindor needs you."

The teammates around her chimed in, and George even patted her on the shoulder with a laugh, "You're a natural goalkeeper, it would be a shame to refuse."

Vicky looked at them, a hint of hesitation flashing in her eyes. Of course, she loved Quidditch, and she loved the thrill of soaring high into the air, making a desperate save, and firmly grasping victory in her grasp. However, she was a little witch who valued her academic performance, and she was a little worried that she wouldn't be able to balance her daily schoolwork, Quidditch practice, and Charms Club activities well.

In the brief moment she pondered, Angelina spoke, her tone serious and firm. "Frobisher, your performance is impeccable. If you'd like to join, we'll fully support you. But I must make it clear beforehand that our training requirements are very strict. We have training sessions every day, and you can't miss even a short practice session."

"Every day?" Vicky frowned slightly.

"That's right," Angelina looked at her unwaveringly, "We're not Hufflepuff, we're not Ravenclaw. Our goal is to win the cup, not just 'do our best.' If you join, be prepared to prioritize training."

Fred added from the side, "We can guarantee you the best brooms, and even help you negotiate your schedule with Professor McGonagall so you can balance your studies."

George chuckled and patted her on the shoulder, "Do you know how many people want this opportunity?"

Vicky's fingers unconsciously traced patterns on the broom handle as she struggled internally. She knew, of course, that if she joined, the team would fully support her and might even become a key to their victory. She wasn't afraid of tough training either; in fact, she had a gut feeling that if she dedicated herself to Quidditch, she might become one of Hogwarts' best goalkeepers.

But her time is limited, and the Charms Club...

She recalled Skylar patiently explaining magic in the club, that gentle yet unfathomable Slytherin. The Charms Club was the only place where she could interact with him. As for Quidditch, daily training took up too much time, and she couldn't manage both.

She took a deep breath and gave an apologetic smile, "I'm sorry, Angelina, I really love Quidditch, but the Charms Club is more important to me."

The team members were stunned, seemingly not expecting her to refuse. Angelina, unwilling to give up, advised, "You can do both—"

"I'm afraid that won't work." Vicki shook her head firmly. "You require daily training, and the Charms Club's activities are also very frequent. I have to make a choice."

Her attitude was unwavering, and despite Angelina, Fred, and George's repeated attempts to persuade her to stay, she did not change her mind.

Ultimately, amidst the disappointed sighs of the crowd, Ron Weasley secured the goalkeeper position.

Around the same time, in Umbridge's office, Harry had already been punished by copying for half an hour. The parchment was covered with bright red blood flowing from the back of his hand, which ached as if it were on fire.

This is also why Harry couldn't participate in the Quidditch team's goalie selection.

Finally, he finished writing.

He had just put down his pen when Umbridge walked over to Harry, reached out her short, stubby, ringed finger to grab his arm, and said softly, "Let's see if you've got this line figured out, shall we?"

As she grabbed him and examined closely the words etched deep into his flesh, he felt a burning pain, but not in the back of his hand; it was the scar on his forehead that ached. At the same time, a very strange sensation arose somewhere in his upper abdomen.

Harry pulled his arm away from her, stood up abruptly, and stared straight at her. She looked back at him, her smile widening her puffy, round mouth.

"Yes, it hurts a lot, doesn't it?" she asked gently.

Harry didn't answer. His heart was pounding rapidly. Was she referring to his hand, or did she know what he had just felt on his forehead?

"Well, I think I've achieved my goal, Mr. Potter. You can go now."

He picked up his schoolbag and left the room as quickly as possible.

In a dark, underground Chamber of Secrets, the air was filled with a nauseating stench of blood, and mottled dark bloodstains were faintly visible on the stone walls.

Voldemort stood there expressionless, the only light source being a few candle flames suspended in mid-air, emitting a ghostly green glow that made Voldemort pale face appear even more terrifying.

Behind him stood a man with vacant eyes and a blank expression— Stan Sampark. The Knight Bus conductor leaned slightly forward, stiff and helpless like a puppet, his unfocused eyes revealing that he had long since lost his self-awareness.

Voldemort's Imperius Curse firmly controls his will, making him Voldemort's only servant at present.

A man lay on the ground, thin and dressed in tattered clothes. His once round face was now sunken, making his cheekbones stand out. His nose was crooked, as if it had been broken, and his lips were cracked, from which dark red blood seeped.

His once bright blue eyes were now cloudy and lifeless, filled with pain and despair. His blond hair was messy and greasy, covered in grime, looking as if it hadn't been washed in months. His body was trembling slightly, clearly on the verge of collapse from torture.

This man was none other than Ludo Bagman, who had been missing for a long time.

After being given to the Goblin by Skylar, he was only given a good beating by Goblin before being released. After all, Skylar had already paid off the debt he owed the Goblin, and the Goblin didn't want to go too far and incur retaliation from the Ministry of Magic.

But Bagman, having regained his freedom, was too ashamed to return to the Ministry of Magic. One day, while riding the Knight Bus, he was ambushed and knocked unconscious by Sampaoli, and then brought here, where he was tortured by Voldemort for countless days.

Ludo Bagman —once a stellar Britain Beater and Department of Magical Games and Sports —was now reduced to this pitiful state. His lips trembled slightly, as if he wanted to say something, but only weak gasps escaped his throat.

Voldemort stood before him, his expression indifferent, his scarlet eyes looking down at him as if he were a dead dog.

"So you finally understand, Bagman?" Voldemort's voice was deep and cold, each word carrying a chilling edge. "You're nothing but an ant; no matter how long you struggle, you're only prolonging your suffering."

With his last ounce of strength, Ludo lifted his head, his eyes flashing with humiliation and fear. Having endured countless Cruciatus Curse, he could no longer bear it. He had once been a cowardly opportunist, always trying to protect himself with lies and escape, but Voldemort would leave him no way out.

He understood that he had no other choice.

He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing, and finally spoke, his voice hoarse as if tattered parchment were being rubbed together. "Azkaban... the entrance to Azkaban... its special Portkey... I know a clue..."

Voldemort's lips curled into a cold smile.

"Very good," he said softly, "You've finally become useful."

Ludo felt a cold hand touch his left arm, and the next second, a sharp, piercing pain suddenly struck!

He tried to struggle, but was pinned to the ground by an invisible force. His skin felt as if it were being burned by flames, and the shape of the Dark Mark slowly emerged, deeply engraving itself into his flesh.

His mouth was wide open, but no sound came out; only a weak whimper escaped his throat. Sweat and tears mingled and slid down his dirty cheeks.

When the Dark Mark fully manifested, Ludo finally realized that he had no way out. He had been an official of the Ministry of Magic, a member of wizarding society, but now he had become the Dark Lord's servant, a true Death Eaters.

Voldemort released his grip, looked down at the trembling Ludo, and smiled softly.

"Welcome to my ranks, Bagman."

As night fell that day, the Sleeping Dragon Society held its first all-staff meeting of the semester.

For Hufflepuff's newest members, Yurig Cadwallader and Summerby, this was their first time stepping into this secretive and powerful underground student organization. Behind them stood a group of students dressed in Hufflepuff House uniforms, their faces filled with curiosity and awe.

The atmosphere in the entire venue was solemn and orderly. The dazzling lights shone on the calm and focused faces, making this organization hidden in Hogwarts seem even more mysterious.

The new members looked around and discovered that this place not only gathered elite students from various houses, but also possessed an astonishing number of people, a well-organized structure with a clear division of labor, and a level of discipline that was not to be underestimated. This far exceeded their imagination—they had never realized that such an unfathomable force existed beneath the surface of Hogwarts.

Standing in the center, Skylar, as the leader of the Sleeping Dragon Society, had a calm and profound gaze, and gave the new members a meaningful smile.

"Welcome to the Sleeping Dragon Society family." His voice was calm and unhurried, yet carried an undeniable weight. His crimson Snake Eyes gleamed with an eerie light, drawing everyone's gaze. "From today onward, you are all part of us."

"Joining the Sleeping Dragon Society is not only an honor, but also a significant and sacred responsibility. You must abide by the rules of the Sleeping Dragon Society..."

With the formal addition of these people, the Sleeping Dragon Society expanded to eighty-seven members, which not only enhanced their influence but also meant that the Sleeping Dragon Society's tentacles had finally successfully infiltrated Hufflepuff.