A Small Modification

The Empty Classroom remained deathly silent for several seconds.

The clump of fine dust that had been shaken up on the table slowly settled back down.

Seven pairs of eyes were fixed on the worn-out Broomstick with its peeling paint in the center of the Long Table, so much so that even their breathing was inaudible.

The Beater sitting on the sidelines swallowed hard, then hesitantly broke the silence:

"Gu... you mean, we should carry this broken Broomstick through the air during the match, and when the referee isn't looking, smash Harry's Firebolt in half with it?"

He gestured with his hand to indicate the cracked wooden handle, his tone quite sincere:

"If we're going to go this route, I suggest we just borrow a shovel from Hagrid. The wood on that thing is all rotten; if you try to hit it with Firebolt, it'll break first."

Gavin glanced at him expressionlessly:

"I'm here as a tactical advisor, not to help Azkaban recruit."

Malcolm, the Chaser sitting next to him, didn't laugh.

He craned his neck forward, staring intently at the clump of birch branches at the end of the Broomstick, which were askew at more than ten degrees, and suddenly spoke in a low voice:

"Wait... isn't this my Cleansweep Seven?"

Gavin glanced at him:

"I just grabbed it from the communal Broomstick; it's school property."

Malcolm pointed to the most severely forked branch at the end of the Broomstick, with two loops of red yarn wrapped around its base, his face full of grievance:

"... But that's the one I use all the time."

"Among the more than thirty public Cleansweep Seven in the whole school, this is the only one where you don't need to kick it first when turning left."

The atmosphere in the classroom grew even more bleak.

Cedric looked down at the worn-out old characters "Cleansweep Seven," his eyebrows furrowing into a knot:

"Gavin, are you serious about using this to Firebolt?"

"That's right."

Gavin leaned back in his chair and nodded:

"That's all we'll rely on."

As soon as he finished speaking, Cordelia, who was sitting to his right, suddenly let go of his arm.

Without a word, the girl turned around, raised her cool, fair hand, and pressed it firmly against Gavin's forehead.

After a two-second pause, she frowned, leaned close to Gavin's ear, and whispered something in a low voice that only the two of them could hear:

"... The bottle I drank this morning, the proportions were correct, right?"

Gavin's eye twitched.

This girl actually suspected that he had damaged his brain by drinking Biphasic Transformation Potion.

Across the Long Table, Cedric was stunned.

The newly appointed captain stared at Cordelia's strange gesture of suddenly touching Gavin's forehead, his eyes flickered, and then, as if suddenly remembering something, a kind smile instantly appeared on his face.

Cedric deliberately slowed his speech, pointed to the wooden stick on the table, and explained to Cordelia in a clear, articulate, and incredibly patient manner:

"Rowle, don't be afraid, Gavin isn't sick. We're talking about flying Broomstick —you know, those long wooden poles you ride on and can Accio in the air."

The classroom suddenly became eerily quiet.

Cordelia's hand was still pressed against Gavin's forehead, and she froze.

She slowly turned her head, her silver-gray eyes coldly staring at Cedric for a full two seconds before narrowing.

"... I know what a flying Broomstick is."

Cedric didn't sense any murderous intent whatsoever; instead, he nodded gently.

At the same time, he gave Gavin a look that said, "See, I didn't exclude her at all."

Gavin turned his face to the side and reached out to pull Cordelia's hand off his forehead.

Hufflepuff was too tolerant; not only did they not discriminate against the mentally challenged, they even made him their captain.

He tapped the broken Broomstick handle twice with his free left hand, pulling the topic back on track:

"Of course, I didn't just rely on the original Cleansweep Seven to fly. I made a small modification to it before going back to the dorm this afternoon."

Cedric glanced down at the still-chipping wooden handle, and sighed with a wry smile:

"Gavin, there's no point in modifying this old thing. Whether it's repainting it with drag-reducing varnish or replacing the tail section, we've already—"

"I changed the core."

"..."

Cedric's outstretched hand froze in mid-air.

The six heads that had gathered around also froze at the same time.

Malcolm's eye twitched, and he couldn't help but mutter:

You call this a 'minor change'?!

"Yes."

Tamsin looked at Gavin with a shocked expression.

"Is cutting off a person's head considered 'just a little bit' of trimming their bangs?!"

Gavin completely ignored their protests, remaining calm.

Cedric swallowed hard, carefully withdrew his hand, and tentatively asked:

"... So what core are you using now?"

"Icarus Core."

Cedric paused, frowned, thought for two seconds, and then shook his head blankly:

What is that?

Gavin sat up straight and, without even taking a breath, recited the full name in one breath:

"A five-layer composite Runes array-style flight intent guidance capture and braking overload Magic reverse flow boosting core."

Silence fell instantly Long Table.

Malcolm's mouth was agape, and his eyes visibly cleared and became dull.

The female Chaser Tamsin, sitting opposite, blinked twice, subconsciously turning her head to glance at Cordelia next to her, and muttered to herself:

"Oh no, looks like I can't understand human speech either..."

Cedric clearly didn't understand a single word either.

Cordelia, who had been sitting quietly to the side, suddenly turned her face slowly.

The girl looked at Cedric, slowed her speech, and explained clearly and patiently:

"Diggory, don't be afraid. We're discussing the Broomstick core right now—"

She gave a kind smile.

"It's the thing you stuff into that long wooden pole so it can Accio in the sky."

Cedric: "..."

Tamsin, standing next to him, pursed his lips tightly, his shoulders shaking as he tried to suppress a laugh.

Cedric's face stiffened slightly, and he coughed tactically before quickly shifting his gaze back to Gavin.

"Ahem... I didn't understand a single word of that name, but it sounded pretty impressive."

"Remove the 'seems'," Gavin said calmly. "It's already very powerful."

Cedric's previously dimmed eyes suddenly lit up, and his breathing quickened.

He stared at the broken Broomstick on the table, and asked expectantly:

"Such a powerful core... shouldn't this Broomstick also have a new name?"

"Of course." Gavin nodded matter-of-factly.

Throughout the classroom, all six Hufflepuff Quidditch Team held their breath, straining their ears to hear a prestigious name like "Thunder Ripper" or "Golden Dawn."

Cedric swallowed hard and spoke cautiously:

What is it called?

"Mark 2."

Gavin calmly uttered three words.

"..."

"Cough cough--!"

Cedric nearly choked, confirming incredulously:

"... Mark 2? Let's call it Mark 2?"

"Right."

Cedric looked at Gavin with a resentful expression:

Did it take you two seconds to name it?

"Not that long."

Gavin explained in a very serious manner:

"The original design sketches are considered the first generation, and the one I modified is the second generation, so it's called Mark 2. Doesn't that sound good? When we register it with the school, we can also call it 'Cleansweep Seven - Youth Edition'."

These terms were so popular at domestic mobile phone product launches in my past life that they fit perfectly into Hogwarts' equipment declaration form.

Cedric's lips twitched violently, and he ultimately chose to compromise decisively.

"Let's call it Mark 2."

Calling this old-fashioned weapon the "Youth Edition" is just too incongruous.

It's like saying Filch just turned eighteen this year.

Tamsin, looking at the birch branch's twisted, pretzel-like tail, still couldn't quite believe it.

"The name doesn't matter... but can this piece of wood really work? Even if the core is replaced, how much faster will it be?"

You can't tell just by looking inside the house.

Gavin stood up and picked up the Cleansweep Seven from the table with one hand:

"Go out and test it out, then you'll know."

Cedric quickly stood up as well:

"How do we test it? Should we fly my Nimbus 2000 around it?"

Gavin walked to the classroom door, opened it, and glanced back at him:

"The Nimbus 2000 is too slow; it can't be used as a reference point."

"Compare it directly to Firebolt."

"???"

7:20 PM, on the shore of Black Lake.

Night falls quickly in late October, and a thin twilight has already settled over the open lawn near the north side of the castle.

The group kept a safe distance from the southern school boundary where the Dementor were stationed.

A cool lake breeze rustled through the grass.

Cedric stood in the middle of the lawn with his six teammates, all of them gazing expectantly at Gavin and Cordelia, who had just walked over from the direction of the castle.

When he went downstairs, Gavin made sure the team came out to warm up first, while he went back to the basement locker room to get something.

At this moment, in one hand he held a tattered Mark 2, and in the other he carried a long, elegant, dark ash wood box.

Walking up to the group, Gavin laid the long box flat on the grass and clicked open the solid gold clasp.

The box lid was opened.

A brand-new flying Broomstick, its lines sleek and elegant, its wooden handle gleaming with a warm, jade-like sheen, lay quietly on a black velvet cushion. The tail was straight and symmetrical, and the Goblin- forged iron fittings where the footrest and handle met gleamed with a cold, sharp light in the night. At the end, a line of dazzling gold lettering was embossed—

[Firebolt]

A collective gasp of astonishment erupted across the lawn.

The six Hufflepuff Quidditch Team nearly had their eyes pop out of the wooden box.

Cedric took a half step back, his mouth agape in shock.

After a full three seconds, the Hufflepuff Quidditch Team abruptly turned his head to look at Cordelia standing beside Gavin, his tone filled with incredulous admiration:

"Rowle! You're actually willing to lend him this?!"

Cordelia hadn't even had a chance to speak.

Gavin had already bent down, casually pulled the Firebolt from the velvet padding, and replied indifferently:

"You're overthinking it. This is from Mr. Rowle."

The lawn was deathly silent.

Is it appropriate to give my daughter's boyfriend a top-of-the-line racing Broomstick?

Cedric's gaze was fixed on the shimmering, top-of-the-line Broomstick, his Adam's apple bobbing, and he instinctively looked at Cordelia and blurted out:

"... Rowle, if I may ask, do you have any other daughters in your family?"

Cordelia uttered a single word without any expression:

"Roll."

Gavin glanced at Cedric expressionlessly:

"Have you forgotten that you have a girlfriend in Ravenclaw?"

Cedric jolted awake, as if he had just woken up from sleepwalking.

He chuckled twice and quickly waved his hand:

"Cough cough! I must have been hit by the Imperius Curse on that Firebolt — Ellerby and Spudmore Company are so vicious, how could they put such Dark Magic on Broomstick!"

Malcolm, who was standing nearby, finally came to his senses, immediately clutched his head with both hands, and let out a devastating wail:

"Wait! You clearly have a Firebolt yourself!! So why didn't you say a word when we were all crying and complaining in the classroom about Harry having Firebolt?"

Gavin looked at him innocently:

"You didn't ask me either."

"..."

Cedric was completely too preoccupied to even complain.

His gaze was fixed on the dreamlike, top-of-the-line Broomstick in Gavin's hand, his eyes shining as if under Lumos, and he rubbed his hands together, taking half a step forward:

"During the competition, I can—"

"Can't."

Without a second's hesitation, Gavin decisively shattered his fantasy.

Cedric panicked:

"Why?!"

"Because I agreed to—some terms."

Gavin glanced at Cordelia without changing his Gavin, omitting the second half of his sentence, "I promised someone I would never lend out this matching couple's phone."

Cordelia, standing beside her, slightly raised her chin in satisfaction, a barely perceptible smile flashing in her silver-gray eyes.

Cedric clearly didn't understand the intricacies of the conversation, and a lump formed in his throat, making his face turn red.

They worried for a long time, only to find that Gavin had a Firebolt in his hand!

If they had known this would happen, what would they have been worried about?

If Gavin asks, I can give him the position of Seeker.

Cedric suddenly had a flash of inspiration: perhaps he could feign illness then, and that way—

Gavin casually shoved the Cleansweep Seven from his left hand into Cedric's arms and patted his arm:

"Alright, stop thinking about it. What you have is much better than the Firebolt."

"Ah?"

Cedric looked down at the broken Broomstick in his arms, still shedding sawdust, then looked up at the dazzlingly bright Firebolt in Gavin's hand.

Not only him, but all six Hufflepuff Quidditch Team behind him clearly wore the same expression on their faces.

Even if you're reluctant to Firebolt, you don't need to make up such a lie to make us happy, do you?

Gavin didn't offer much explanation.

He pulled out his Hawthorn Wand and casually waved it twice at the open lakeside lawn and the row of thick Beech Tree at the end of the track.

Several bright clusters of Lumos instantly rose into the sky, illuminating the entire 100-meter-long takeoff and landing lawn as bright as day.

At the same time, a very faint, transparent light spread along the grass and silently disappeared into the trunks of the trees in front, which were as thick as two people could hug.

The team members all sighed around Cedric, assuming Gavin had simply cast a Lumos.

Only Cordelia, standing on the sidelines, could clearly see the trajectory of his Transfiguration as he flipped his wrist.

The girl frowned slightly, not understanding why she needed Transfiguration Spell to try out a Broomstick.

I looked at Cedric's handsome face in the conventional sense.

Cordelia's expression changed slightly.

Could it Gavin?

No way?

The girl's gaze toward Cedric darkened further.

Cedric, oblivious to everything, sighed and listlessly mounted his worn-out Cleansweep Seven.

His mind was clearly still on the Firebolt beside him, and he was even holding the handle loosely with only one hand.

Gavin walked to his side, carrying the Firebolt, flipped over, mounted the Broomstick, and placed his right hand on the newly inlaid brass scale ring in the middle of the Mark 2's wooden handle.

How much power do you need?

Cedric paused, looking down at the brass rings engraved with the numbers one to ten:

"What does 'power' mean? Is there such a thing as a 'flying Broomstick '?"

"I have it this time."

Gavin pointed to the first mark:

"For your first ride, I recommend starting with 10% to get used to it."

Cedric shook his head, both amused and exasperated.

"Gavin, this is a nearly worn-out Cleansweep Seven! 10% isn't enough, can it even lift three feet off the ground? Of course it should be 100%!"

Gavin stared at the big, silly Chun in front of him for two seconds.

Meeting the other's dismissive gaze, which seemed to say, "Hurry up and finish testing so I can ride the Firebolt," Gavin nodded helplessly.

"Okay, I'll give you a discount, 30% off, try it out first."

Click.

Gavin flicked his thumb, pushing the brass graduated ring to the "3" position, then released it and took two steps back to the side.

"Get ready and start. Remember, don't press the lever with the same force as the Nimbus 2000; ease it off a bit—"

Cedric clearly didn't hear the second half of what he said.

He still retains the muscle memory of riding the old-fashioned communal Broomstick at school—

He took a deep breath, pushed off the grass with all his might, leaned forward sharply, and pressed himself down to the ground.

Gavin's eyelid twitched.

This is like an old farmer who's used to driving a hand tractor, sitting in the cockpit of a supercar for the first time, and immediately flooring the accelerator, practically welding himself to the floor.

Within a millionth of a second of Cedric's forward lean as he exerted force.

Gavin hadn't even had a chance to speak.

Cleansweep Seven Wooden Handle, the five layers of Ica Runes circuits, which had no commercial encryption restrictions, instantly lit up.

30% power, full speed start!

It doesn't even need to wait for the rider's wrist movement to be transmitted; it directly captures the rider's "full speed forward" sprint intention and amplifies it tenfold into a ferocious propulsion command.

Buzz--Boom!!

A deep, muffled thud suddenly erupted in the air.

The Firebolt beneath Gavin's legs had barely risen half a foot when Cedric beside him vanished into thin air.

Only a clump of grass clippings, blown away by the blast wave, and half a mangled scream, torn apart by the gale, remained on the lawn.

"Whoa, what is this?!"

The six Hufflepuff Quidditch Team on the sidelines nearly popped their eyes out of their sockets.

Under the night sky, the old, crooked-tailed sword that Cleansweep Seven transformed into a blurry black afterimage, shooting off in a straight line about three feet above the grass.

The initial acceleration was so fast that it completely defied the existing common sense in the Wizarding World.

Cedric was pulled backward by the overwhelming force, his upper body almost touching the Broomstick's tail, his hands gripping the chipped wooden handle tightly, his long legs kicking wildly in the air, and he couldn't even open his eyes.

In less than two seconds, the dark figure traversed the entire 100-meter lawn and crashed straight into the trunk of the century-old Beech Tree at the end of the track, a tree so thick that it would take two people to hug it.

"Cedric--!!"

"Team leader!!"

Tamsin covered his mouth with both hands in fright, while Malcolm turned pale and instinctively reached into his pocket for his Wand, ready to summon the Hospital Wing's stretcher.

Bang!

The expected, agonizing cracking sound of bones breaking did not occur.

Only a dull, resonant, and strange sound echoed in the night wind.

Under everyone's stunned gaze, the once-solid, iron-like Beech Tree collapsed the moment Cedric crashed into Broomstick and all.

The hard texture suddenly changed, like a giant sponge cake three feet thick.

The tree trunk caved in deeply, more than half a meter deep, gently enveloping Cedric as he was slapped horizontally upwards.

Immediately afterwards, the tree trunk swayed and then sprang back outwards.

With a whoosh, Cedric and his Broomstick were sent flying back intact, tumbling in mid-air before crashing onto the grass, which had also been turned into a thick sponge mat.

The entire shoreline of the Black Lake fell into a deathly silence.

Two full seconds passed before the six team members sprinted frantically towards the base of the tree.

Malcolm was the fastest runner, the first to pounce under the tree. Looking at Cedric sprawled on the grass, he blurted out:

"My Cleansweep Seven isn't broken, is it?... Wait, Captain, are your bones not broken?!"

Cedric lay blankly on the soft grass mat, his hair a mess of straw and two Beech Tree clinging to his head.

He first raised his right hand tremblingly and touched his intact nose and ribs.

He then turned his head and poked the trunk of the tree next to him with a finger; the trunk was so soft that it left a dent when pressed.

It took the fifth- Seeker swallow hard, finally pulling his soul back from the other side of Black Lake.

That was close.

I was almost murdered by a Broomstick.

He was just thinking about how to fake being sick.

I almost stopped having to pretend forever.

In mid-air, Gavin slowly floated over on his Firebolt and stopped three feet above his head.

The boy looked down at the Hufflepuff Quidditch Team, whose head was covered in leaves, and spoke calmly:

"Luckily, I promised Professor Dumbledore I wouldn't send any students to the Hospital Wing before Christmas, so I Transfiguration the surrounding trees and ground in advance."

"Otherwise, you could be lying with Madam Pomfrey right now, preparing for next year's competition."

Hearing this, Cordelia, who had followed over, breathed a sigh of relief.

So that's the reason.

Gavin is still Gavin; he hasn't become her.

Cedric climbed off the soft grass mat and brushed the leaves off his hair.

He looked down at the Cleansweep Seven in his hand, its varnish peeling and its tail still crooked, and his eyes had completely changed, as if he were looking at a Hungarian Horntail dressed in sheep's clothing.

After a three-second silence, Cedric gripped the Broomstick handles properly with both hands and stepped back onto the broom.

This time, his posture was even more perfect than the illustrations in the first-year Flying Class textbook. He looked up at Gavin, his voice incredibly sincere:

"...10%. Gavin, could you please adjust it to 10% for me?"

With a click, the brass graduated ring was turned back to "1".

Having learned his lesson from nearly crashing into a century-old tree, Cedric didn't dare to breathe too loudly this time.

He carefully gripped the handlebars with both hands, his muscles tense, not daring to even press down on his wrists.

Swoosh.

The Cleansweep Seven beneath him instantly floated three feet into the air, hovering in the night breeze, so steady that it didn't even tremble.

Cedric's eyes widened slightly.

This feels even smoother than the Nimbus 2000.

Gavin rode up beside him on his Firebolt and gestured with his chin forward:

"Try flying it around the lake. Don't strain the handle; the Broomstick will read your intentions. Just apply a little force, otherwise it's easy to over-steer."

Cedric took a deep breath and leaned forward slightly.

The old Broomstick slid away smoothly in an instant.

Gavin gently pressed down on the Firebolt and followed closely behind, quickly pushing the top-of-the-line commercial Broomstick to its normal cruising speed.

Fifty meters ahead, a reef jutting into the lake appeared.

Gavin clearly saw that Cedric's wrist, gripping the wooden handle, hadn't even had time to exert any force before the broken Broomstick beneath him had already sliced through the left corner with astonishing smoothness.

"Merlin's beard--!"

Cedric cried out in surprise, instinctively turning his head as if to see how far he was from the Firebolt behind him.

As he turned his head, Cedric was jolted.

Because Gavin, riding that streamlined Firebolt, was right next to him, less than half a body length away, riding side by side.

Tamsin and Malcolm, who were looking up from the shore, were also dumbfounded.

"They've caught up?! Those are Firebolt!"

In mid-air, Cedric, facing the howling night wind, turned his head incredulously and shouted:

"It just twisted by itself before I could even move my wrist! Gavin, you weren't holding back, were you?! Is this really 10%?!"

Of course not!

Gavin's voice was still clear in the wind:

"The Firebolt only unlocked 20% of the original core's output, and then added three layers of commercial limiters and encrypted Magic Rune. Yours has 10% without limiter delay, and the initial acceleration is already almost there."

Cedric's breathing quickened instantly.

As a once-in-a-century Seeker genius in Hufflepuff, once he figured out how to use the Broomstick, this fifth-year captain's innate flying instincts were instantly ignited.

He executed a beautiful mid-air stop and spin, coming to a halt right in front of Gavin, his eyes shining with astonishing brilliance:

"Add a little! Help me adjust it to 20%!"

Gavin chanted the Spell and reached out to fiddle with the brass ring.

Once the 20% setting was activated, the tail of the broken Broomstick even emitted a very faint Magic hum.

Two figures shot up into the sky above Black Lake once more.

This time, Cedric began to actively perform various difficult zigzag changes of direction and sudden stops and dives.

In the past, when I Nimbus 2000, the Broomstick would always experience a momentary slowdown.

But the old wooden thing between his legs was like a compressed spring. Every time he stopped abruptly and spun around, the overload Magic accumulated during braking would rush back through the circuit, propelling him with even more violent thrust to the next bend.

The six team members on the ground were craning their necks so hard they looked like they were about to break.

In their view, the broken Broomstick with its forked tail in mid-air accelerated more decisively and efficiently after the sharp turn than the expensive Firebolt beside it.

"Again! 30%!!"

As they circled back to the starting point, Cedric had fully adapted to the rhythm of intention-led action and proactively asked to shift back to the gear he had used to crash into the tree.

Gavin raised an eyebrow, helped him turn the dial back to "3", and at the same time tightened his grip on his Firebolt handle:

"Using that willow tree ahead as the endpoint, prepare to depart!"

The moment he finished speaking, Gavin ruthlessly pushed the Firebolt beneath him to its maximum acceleration limit.

The streamlined ash wood handle and the Goblin- forged ironwork vibrated at a high frequency in the night wind, and the pinnacle of modern broom-making technology suddenly erupted, instantly drawing a sharp whistling sound across the lake!

However, at the very same second...

Cedric, riding the chipped -Cleansweep Seven, started up in sync with him on the left.

This afternoon at the Quidditch Pitch, Harry, riding Firebolt, sped up slightly and in less than three seconds left Cedric's Nimbus 2001 a full five body lengths behind.

Cedric held onto that suffocating and powerless feeling—the feeling of putting all his strength into the fight, pressing his chest to the handle, and only being able to watch his opponent's tail disappear into the distance—for an entire afternoon.

And at this moment.

For the first fifty meters, the two Broomstick, which looked completely different, were locked in a fierce battle, neither able to gain the upper hand!

On his right lay a priceless, pristine Firebolt. Gavin practically lay on the handle, pushing his speed to the limit.

On the left, however, is a dilapidated piece of school timber from 1978, its varnish peeling off, with two comically wrapped red yarn strands around the forked birch branch at the end.

The moment it entered the acceleration zone at the sixtieth meter mark, the thrust of the Firebolt had already reached the limiter's ceiling.

Cedric didn't even bend his waist down.

He simply faced the fierce wind that stung his cheeks, and a thought flashed through his mind—

Faster!

Buzz--!!

The old wooden handle beneath him trembled with an almost joyful sound, and the unrestrained "Mark 2" suddenly unleashed an even more terrifying thrust.

Cedric felt as if he had been slammed into the back by an invisible dragon, and he and his Broomstick were instantly torn apart by the oncoming air currents and launched out a second time.

Under the horrified gaze of the six Hufflepuff Quidditch Team on the shore, the tattered Cleansweep Seven, its red yarn trailing a shadow in the night wind, forcefully passed right by the Firebolt.

Several dry wood chips, shaken off at high speed, flew backward, even hitting the smooth handle of the Firebolt behind them with a crackling sound.

One body length.

Two body lengths.

Three body lengths!

When Cedric was the first to leap over the canopy of the large willow tree at the finish line and bring his Broomstick to a steady stop in mid-air, Gavin's Firebolt arrived at the tree half a second later, accompanied by its tailwind.

The shore was in complete chaos.

The six Hufflepuff Quidditch Team covered their mouths tightly, afraid that their screams would attract the attention of the other three Houses in the castle.

They covered their mouths and jumped and hopped on the lawn, creating a rather comical scene.

Malcolm was so excited he almost Beater next to him and spun him around.

Cedric descended from mid-air.

Because of that high-speed sprint, the usually gentle and refined captain's cheeks were flushed red, his chest was heaving violently, and his hands gripping the rough wooden handle were trembling slightly.

He looked down at the miraculously broken Broomstick between his legs, then looked up at Gavin, who had landed shortly afterward, his voice cracking with excitement:

"I won... I really did beat the Firebolt!"

Before he could finish speaking, Malcolm was the first to rush forward.

His eyes shone with an astonishing light, and he rubbed his hands together as he reached for the wooden Broomstick.

"Captain! Isn't it time to return it to me now that the test flight is over? Look at those two red loops of yarn on the tail; I tied them on myself last month!"

Cedric instinctively shielded the Broomstick with his arms, unwilling to let go.

"This belongs to the public... or at least to Hufflepuff as common property."

Then, he took a deep breath, his eyes burning with an unprecedented fervor.

Cedric looked at Gavin expectantly:

"At only 30%, you can outrun Firebolt by three body lengths... Gavin, could you go up to 50%? Or even 100%?!"

Malcolm's outstretched hand froze in mid-air as he and the other five teammates turned around in unison, all staring at Gavin with fervent expressions.

Gavin dismounted from the Firebolt, put the Broomstick back in its wooden box, and shook his head calmly:

"No."

Cedric was taken aback:

"Why?"

"Because--"

Gavin looked up, meeting his burning gaze, and uttered four words.

"It's prone to exploding."

The night breeze rustled across the lawn.

Cedric's fanatical expression froze instantly.

There was a two-second silence on the lawn.

The next second, without saying a word, the Hufflepuff Quidditch Team stepped firmly onto the ground and nimbly stepped off the Cleansweep Seven.

Immediately afterwards, Cedric carefully handed the chipped, broken Broomstick back to Broomstick, his arms outstretched and a full arm's length away, holding it flat on both Gavin.

Gavin raised an eyebrow, but instead of taking it immediately, he turned his head to look at Malcolm beside him.

Malcolm's hands, which had been outstretched in mid-air as if to grab the Broomstick, suddenly appeared behind his back, and he took a large step back, speaking with righteous indignation:

"Those are the school's communal Broomstick; they have nothing to do with me."

Tamsin and the other four teammates next to him also retreated to his row in unison.

Gavin was both amused and exasperated by Cedric's reverent gesture as he handed over the C4 explosives to the bomb disposal experts.

He reached out and took the Broomstick from him, pointing to the metal slot on the brass graduated ring:

"Don't worry, I already locked it with a spell limit. Without me unlocking it, even if you tried to twist it with pliers, you wouldn't be able to get it over 50%."

Hearing this, Cedric finally breathed a long sigh of relief.

The six team members who had just stepped back awkwardly returned.

After confirming it was safe, Cedric quickly took the broken Broomstick back from Gavin's hands, his gaze fixed on it, not wanting to even blink.

Gavin the long ash wood box containing the Firebolt lightly on the grass with his toe and casually asked:

Do you still want to Firebolt?

Cedric didn't even turn his head, his eyes fixed on the Cleansweep Seven Sweep, and casually waved his hand:

"No, that's too slow and will interfere with my training."

Are you worried that Mark 2 might misunderstand?

Gavin's lips twitched slightly.

Just five minutes ago she was calling her "sweetie," and now she's turned into a Firebolt old hag.

Cedric took a deep breath, suppressing his excitement, and looked at Gavin:

"30% is more than enough! Gavin, with this 'Mark 2,' I'm confident I can hold off Harry's Firebolt from the sky in next week's opening match!"

However, his excitement lasted less than two seconds before the Hufflepuff Quidditch Team quickly remembered the most pressing problem at hand, and a troubled look appeared on his face:

"But... Gavin, how many Galleon did you spend to buy this incredible core from which master? Let's pool our money and get it for you!"

Malcolm, standing next to him, also sighed, scratching his head.

"Yeah, something even more powerful than Firebolt must be ridiculously expensive..."

"Who said you had to pay?"

Gavin held up one finger and spoke slowly:

"This core supplier was very generous; they offered Hufflepuff a zero."

Cedric's eyes widened:

"Zero? Who's being so generous? Are they sponsoring us?"

Malcolm, standing next to him, patted his chest excitedly, his eyes shining:

"Yeah, which Broomstick factory owner has such good taste?! Does he want us to advertise for him? If he's willing to give it away for free, I'd take it even if he embroidered his name on my jersey, let alone on the back of my pants!"

Gavin glanced at Malcolm expressionlessly:

"The boss you're talking about, that's me."

He paused for a moment, then pursed his lips:

"Also, I'm not interested in your pants ass."

Tamsin covered his mouth, his voice trembling:

"Wait a minute... You just said you changed the core, we all thought you bought a finished product from some Alchemy master."

His finger trembled as he pointed at Gavin.

"You mean, the Broomstick core inside that flits the Firebolt behind it, you created it yourself?"

"Of course, otherwise where would I find you free ones?" Gavin retorted.

Cedric swallowed, then frowned, sensing something was amiss:

"Wait a minute, Gavin... Isn't Alchemy an elective at Hogwarts only offered in the sixth year? You're only a third year now, who did you learn Alchemy from?"

Gavin calmly uttered five words:

My teacher Lucien.

"Ah?"

Cedric blinked, his expression gradually cracking, and he froze on the spot.

Malcolm looked around. "Which Lucien?"

"And a few more Lucien." Tamsin rolled his eyes at him, annoyed.

Cedric's voice changed. "It's... Lucien Valéry, the master of the Firebolt designer, Nicolas Flamel's last disciple, the France Alchemy genius?"

"It's him." Gavin nodded.

Cedric suddenly realized something and felt a chill run down his spine.

"And this morning, in the Great Hall," he said slowly, "I think I mentioned that he's a little—"

"There's a problem." Gavin nodded. "I heard you."

"... Um, I didn't mean to. I didn't know at the time—he was yours—"

Cedric's hand holding the Broomstick handle trembled for a moment, but he quickly recovered, his face filled with disbelief:

"That's not right! He was imprisoned in Azkaban twenty years ago, you—"

Gavin just smiled and looked at him:

"Have you forgotten that I was in Azkaban last year? He happened to live next door to me."

You can't exactly tell them that you've unified Azkaban and that Lucien is actually his underling, can you?

Let's make up something plausible to fool them.

Even so, the six teammates beside Gavin were all looking at him like he was a monster.

Normal wizards who enter Azkaban, even if they are only imprisoned for three to five days, will come out with vacant eyes and half-mad from being tormented by Dementor.

But this junior's entry sounds like he went to the Royal Alchemy Academy for a semester on a government scholarship, doesn't it?

Malcolm swallowed hard and asked blankly:

"That legendary master with such an eccentric temper... just because he lives next door, he taught you his most treasured skills for nothing?"

No, not at all.

Gavin shook his head and answered truthfully:

"I traded something with him."

Cedric was startled, and his expression immediately turned solemn with respect.

What kind of priceless treasure would it take for a master alchemist at the pinnacle of their Alchemy to impart all their knowledge and even hand over the core of the first-generation Firebolt?

Cedric took a deep breath, his eyes slightly red, and pressed his hand heavily to his chest:

"Gavin, that must be something very precious, right? Although we can't afford to scrape together many Galleon, you've sacrificed so much for the team, and the whole team will definitely find a way to make it up to you in the future—"

"Yes, Gu," Tamsin nodded, "maybe if the few of us pool our resources, we can—"

"Potato."

"--?"

Cedric had barely uttered the last word when he froze in the night wind, his entire body, along with the hand pressed against his chest.

The six team members, who had just adopted a solemn expression, also froze in the wind.

Cedric stared, mouth agape, blinking blankly.

"... What?"

"Potatoes, I traded them for potatoes."

Gavin's tone was very sincere:

"To be precise, he ate many different ways of cooking potatoes, and he enjoyed them so much that he taught me all his techniques."

Malcolm clutched his head, letting out another wail of despair as his worldview crumbled:

"You mean... the top-tier Alchemy core that can easily defeat Firebolt was something you traded for a plate of potatoes?"

"More or less."

Gavin nodded; he always won people over with virtue.

Add a touch of intimidation, a touch of Obscurus, a touch of Dementor.

Potatoes are for oral administration; everything else is for psychological acceptance.

However, there's no need to go into that.

Cedric silently released his hand from his chest.

He took a deep breath, swallowing back the tragic and moving emotions he had just been building up, and looked at Gavin with a complex expression:

"... Then tomorrow for breakfast, I'll share half of the roasted potatoes on my plate with you."

There's absolutely no need for that.

Gavin rejected the offer without batting an eye.

Using United Kingdom cuisine to repay a debt of gratitude—what's the difference between that and revenge?

Even though he's Hufflepuff, eating everything will only hurt him.

Joking aside, Cedric quickly remembered the most important rule, the red line, and frowned as he looked at the Broomstick in his hand:

"Even if you did it yourself, according to the budget rules you set last year, private sponsorships and modifications should be included in the team's total budget according to the Broom Quality Supervision Office's 'Current Season Guide Price List'!"

"Yes, that's right, there's still this problem."

Malcolm nodded in agreement.

"The Weasley Twins filled in a zero for Firebolt on their declaration form the other day, and they got a scolding from Professor McGonagall on the spot!"

Cedric then sighed with worry:

"And you saw what happened at Ravenclaw's this morning. Just assembling five Nimbus 2000 parts almost filled up the budget. Yours is a core that's even more powerful than the Firebolt. Even if you only modify this one, won't it still max out our budget?"

Gavin's lips curled into a slight smile.

He pointed to the worn-out Cleansweep Seven in Cedric's arms, its paint chipped and its tip askew:

"So why do you think I would leave a perfectly good new wooden pole unused and instead go to the public Broomstick stall to pick out this piece of junk whose varnish has all peeled off?"

Cedric was taken aback:

"... Why?"

"Because the price list from the Quality Supervision Office shows that the price of modification parts is calculated directly based on the model of the Broomstick that it is compatible with."

Gavin slowly extended his fingers, calculating a meticulously detailed set of rules with them:

"The cores of all commercial Broomstick on the market are incompatible with each other. Even if you take the core of Firebolt and force it into the wooden shaft of Cleansweep Seven, the Magic circuits won't match, and it will only explode into wood dust on the spot when it flies."

"So when the price list was set, nobody even considered cross-generational modifications—"

"The price will be based on the accessory tier corresponding to the model of the Broomstick you attach it to."

Cedric's breath hitched slightly, and his eyes widened little by little:

You mean...?

"Ravenclaw only managed to find half of Lucien's manuscript. Their skill level is limited, so they have to honestly use old parts from the Nimbus 2000 to piece together the original Nimbus 2000 2000. Naturally, they have to account for it according to the Nimbus 2000 parts standard."

"Otherwise, what we'd have now would be seven Nimbus 2001 or seven Nimbus 2002s."

Gavin patted the worn-out wooden handle in Cedric's arms, his tone calm:

"But the core of my modification doesn't have this problem; I modified it using the architecture of the Cleansweep Seven."

"A 1978 school-run Cleansweep Seven is valued at Sickle Galleon the secondhand market; even considering the price of the homemade core calculated according to the Cleansweep Seven standard, the official value of the entire Broomstick, including the handle and core, is less than 4 Galleon."

Upon hearing the words "less than four Galleon," Cedric's heart, which had been hanging in suspense, finally settled completely, and he let out a long sigh of relief.

"Only four Galleon... Great! That solves all the problems!"

Malcolm and Tamsin, who were standing next to him, also clapped enthusiastically.

Cedric was about to laugh when his expression suddenly froze.

"Wait a minute, only four Galleon? I remember the current budget cap is one thousand Galleon, could it be—"

He looked down at the chipped paint on his Cleansweep Seven in his arms, then suddenly remembered something. He glanced at his teammates behind him, then turned to look at Gavin, his breathing quickening and his heart pounding.

"Does that mean all of us can--?!"

The six teammates around him also reacted, holding their breath at the same moment, staring intently at Gavin, and cautiously waiting for his confirmation.

"Otherwise what?"

Gavin raised an eyebrow in surprise.

"Who told you there was only one left?"

He looked at the seven people in front of him, his tone matter-of-fact:

"Seven of them, one for each of you."

Dead silence.

Utter silence.

The only sound along the shore of Black Lake was the rustling of the grass in the night wind.

Cedric stared blankly at the calm-looking junior across from him, his mouth agape.

Malcolm, Tamsin, and four other players stood frozen in place, their minds reeling as if hit by a Bludger.

A full three seconds passed before Tamsin gasped sharply, his voice trembling:

"Seven, seven?! You mean... all seven of us on the team can ride one of these monsters that leaves the Firebolt bolts three body lengths behind next Saturday?!"

"Of course, the remaining budget is even enough to strap several more to each of you as spares. How about giving it a try?"

One per person? Or even seven per person?

All the Hufflepuff Quidditch Team present exchanged glances, feeling so happy they were about to faint.

This must be what heaven is like, right?

"That's why I said I could beat them even if they had seven Firebolt."

Gavin spoke calmly:

"Besides, they don't even have seven yet."

The school-wide budget rules were set by himself, the master craftsmanship was obtained by exchanging potatoes, and the broken Cleansweep Seven shell, which cost two Galleon, was used to keep the budget firmly under thirty Galleon.

While the other three colleges were still gloating over how they had managed to scrape together a Firebolt and seven Nimbus 2000.

This third-year junior has quietly armed the entire Hufflepuff team to the teeth.

Was all of this part of his plan?

How far did he actually see?

The Hufflepuff stood rooted to the spot, lost in thought.

Gavin, however, was completely at ease.

As the sole architect of these budgeting rules, can leaving yourself a legitimate backdoor interface be considered exploiting a loophole?

That's called going home.

Cat Professor used me as free labor back then, so if I don't leave something behind, I'll really be taken advantage of as an honest person.

Even a rabbit will bite when cornered, let alone a badger cub.

"You can use this prototype tonight to get familiar with its feel for it."

Gavin clapped his hands:

"When you go back to the castle later, stop by the communal Broomstick and pick out six more 'Cleansweep Seven' to bring over. I'll equip your whole team before the opening match next week."

Cedric clutched the Broomstick tightly to his chest, his breath hot, and his eyes gleamed with an unprecedented light:

"Did you all hear that? When you go to the Broomstick to pick out the Cleansweep Seven later, make sure to pick the one with the worst paint chipping and the most crooked tail!"

Malcolm, standing nearby, looked down at the clump of birch branches bound with red yarn and twisted into a pretzel shape, and humbly asked the captain for advice:

"So, am I supposed to keep cursing the school's bunch of lousy Broomstick in front of Gryffindor at breakfast tomorrow?"

"Scold."

Cedric nodded emphatically, his face grave as he assigned the task:

"Not only should you scold them, but you should scold them even more harshly than usual. It would be best if you slammed your fist on the table and sighed, saying that if your Broomstick turns left, you'll have to kick it again."

The six Hufflepuff Quidditch Team nodded in unison with wicked grins.

Money corrupts, Hufflepuff is no exception.

Cedric glanced around at the Black Lake, then suddenly lowered his voice and solemnly instructed his team:

"Listen, this absolutely cannot be known to the other three academies before the opening match next Saturday."

At this point, he lowered his head and touched the worn, rough wooden handle in his pocket, completely immersed in the scene of next Saturday's match, a smile involuntarily spreading across his face:

"I'm already looking forward to seeing the expressions on the other three academies' faces when they witness this."

Malcolm and the other team members were also eager to get started, their faces filled with barely suppressed excitement and anticipation.

"Of course!"

Malcolm's eyes lit up.

"Especially the Wood and Weasley Twins! The moment the whistle blows, we'll ride past Firebolt on our splinter-covered Broomstick, and their eyes will probably pop out onto the field!"

The Beater next to him also pumped his fist, his face flushed with excitement.

"And Ravenclaw! They just finished building seven Nimbus 2000, and they've been practically strutting around in the hallway these past few days!"

"Not just them," another team member exclaimed excitedly, "Even the Slytherin sitting in the stands will be completely dumbfounded—"

"No, wait a minute, you said -- Slytherin?"

Tamsin seemed to remember something and turned his gaze to Cordelia beside him.

It seems that it's already known?

Boss, we've been exposed.

The others realized what was happening and all turned to look.

Cedric looked at the Slytherin girl in front of him, and his lips twitched.

We were so happy that we forgot about it.

There's a mole among them.

Cordelia looked at those gazes without expression.

Then, she rolled her eyes dramatically.

"Why are you looking at me like that? After all—"

The girl looked at Cedric.

"I don't understand it."

"..."