Empty Theorizing
It was 6:45 a. m. in the Ravenclaw dormitory.
"Wow!" Ron exclaimed as the package was opened and the flying broomstick rolled onto Harry's sheets. Anthony and the others nearby also praised it highly.
Harry, the owner of the broom, could only try to tiptoe over the wall of people to get a better look.
But there was nothing Harry could do; Ron was too tall. He had to clear his throat to let Harry know he was there.
Ron didn't react, still stroking the broom with his slightly trembling hand, just like a virgin seeing his bride's body under her clothes for the first time on their wedding night. It was very similar, even the low moans that couldn't be stopped from his throat were exactly the same. Ryan couldn't help but shift his attention away from Hermione's conversation and showed a look of disgust.
Fortunately, most of the people in the dormitory were normal. Harry's little brother Anthony, who had brought his own food, was the first to notice this, followed closely by Neville. The two exchanged a glance and, without prior arrangement, chased Ron away.
Harry then saw what he had been waiting a week for—no, it was a work of art!
This flying broom is absolutely amazing.
With graceful lines and a lustrous sheen, the broom handle is made of mahogany, and its long tail is made of neat, straight branches. The words "Nimbus 2000" are printed in gold on the top of the broom handle.
"Hey! What are you doing? It's almost 6:50, we should get going!" Ron didn't notice anything. After entering Hogwarts, he, who was originally at the bottom of the social hierarchy at home, had almost lost the ability to read the air.
No, he did notice one thing: the current time.
Seven o'clock was drawing ever closer. Harry and the others left the castle and headed towards the Quidditch Pitch in the twilight. Ryan and Hermione trailed far behind. Harry wanted to use his old trick to point out Ryan's presence again, but the other members of the dormitory, who were passionate about Quidditch, firmly sandwiched Harry between them, clearing a path for him.
Soon, we arrived at the stadium.
Hundreds of chairs were placed high in the surrounding stands so that spectators could see what was happening on the field.
There are three golden poles at each end of the course, each topped with a ring.
They reminded Ryan of the bubble rings he played with as a child when he Zhou Yi, and how he used them to ruin the laundry detergent at home.
The sky was filled with bubbles, which shone with magnificent colors under the sunlight.
The only difference between them and bubble wrap is that they are much bigger, each one is fifty feet tall.
To everyone's surprise, Roger Davies was not there, nor were any of the other players that others had imagined would be present.
Amidst Anthony's adoration and Ron's jeers, Harry pretended to be unable to resist the advice, but in reality, he couldn't wait to hop on his broomstick and fly around the field.
Harry was like a dancing elf in the sky, darting swiftly between the goalposts and soaring up and down over the pitch. Ron and the others jumped up and cheered from the ground from time to time, while Ryan and Hermione found a seat at the back of the stands and started reading together.
"Hey, who are you?" Roger Davies came from the direction of the castle, carrying a large wooden crate under his arm.
"I'm Ron Weasley, the one next to you when you were talking to Harry— " Ron said doubtfully, not expecting there to be someone at Hogwarts who didn't recognize him, but before he could finish, Roger interrupted him, "I know! The one from the Rita Skeeter report, Ron Weasley, right? You two aren't really lovers, are you?"
"You must be Draco Malfoy, look at the concern in your eyes!"
"But Slytherin can't be here; this is a secret training session," Roger said confidently, pointing at Anthony and guessing, completely ignoring Ron's explanation that he was Ron Weasley.
"I am Anthony Goldstein, Ravenclaw, a relative of Tina Goldstein, the lover of the famous Fantastic Beasts expert Newt Scamander," Anthony replied somberly, but unconsciously uttered the introduction that was almost etched into his soul.
"Okay, you can stay here." Roger Davies raised an eyebrow, looked at Anthony suspiciously several times, and then looked at the remaining people with reluctance, trying to find the possible Draco Malfoy.
Of the remaining men, Terry Boot and Michael Conner were so striking with their brown and black skin that he remembered those two guys.
He knew Neville.
I was curious to see who the Seeker I admired was, and I remembered that Ron was busy pestering the talkative Sage to help him write a book, so I missed it.
"Hey, Davies." Harry was drawn to the conversation Harry landed beside him.
"Oh, I almost forgot about you, Harry." Roger put down the wooden crate, patted Harry on the shoulder, almost making him stumble. "You flew brilliantly just now. No wonder Madam Hooch and I value you. I'll teach you the rules tonight, and then you can participate in the team's training three times a week."
"Hey, you guys, Harry's friends, go, go, go to the stands, don't disturb them." Roger Davies greeted Ron and his group in a seemingly polite manner.
Ron, grumbling and cursing, led the group, including Anthony, who was equally upset, to the stands. They found seats near the front, while Harry frowned.
"Harry, what's wrong? Do you think it's too fast?"
"Harry, you must understand, you are different from those mediocre ones. You are a born Seeker, and your father's Seeker blood flows in your veins." Roger misunderstood Harry's expression. "Since you're worried, let me explain our training program to you."
"The first two training sessions were based on our schedules. During our free time, we'd find an empty classroom and work out corresponding tactics based on information we'd gathered about other college Quidditch teams. Then, usually around 7 p. m. on Fridays, we'd do a quick practice of the basics and go over the tactics again," Roger said confidently.
"But Davies, don't we need more practice?" Harry asked, puzzled. After becoming the Seeker, he had specifically sought out Ron, who came from a family with a strong academic background, to inquire about Gryffindor's training methods when Charlie Weasley was there—continuous training and practice.
"Oh, Harry, you need to understand one thing: our greatest strength compared to the other three houses is our Wisdom. We can't compare our weaknesses to their strengths."
"Geniuses have their own fighting methods," Roger said with a hint of displeasure, clearly not interested in continuing the conversation, so Harry didn't press the matter further.
"Sure enough, this is why Ravenclaw has always been so weak in the original timeline, even inferior to Hufflepuff —all talk and no action." Ryan thought to himself. Although he was sitting far away, with his physique, he could easily have a conversation over such a distance if he wanted to.