Shawn had already anticipated this before coming.
"Professor, this is about joining the national Quidditch team, isn't it?"
A hint of self-reproach appeared on McGonagall's stern face.
"Yes. Your performance on the pitch has been excellent. Even if you don't train regularly, it hardly matters. I've heard you barely train anyway.
I'd thought the England national team's coach would be eager to sign you after watching your match, but I never imagined... sigh.
I asked a friend to look into him last night. He's a man of poor character who plays favorites. He's made a complete mess of the England national team, and he's even declared that he doesn't need disobedient players like you.
So, after giving it serious thought, I can only recommend you to the Ireland team. They're very strong, and their only weak spot is their Seeker.
If you joined them, your unique hitting technique could easily disrupt the opposing Seeker.
What do you think?"
A sharp gleam flashed in Shawn's eyes.
He genuinely didn't care which team he joined, as long as he could compete in the Quidditch World Cup finals.
What displeased him, however, was that head coach he'd only briefly met yesterday. If he didn't want to sign Shawn, fine, but why make such a declaration?
Was he an idiot with no understanding of how the world worked? Had no one told him who called the shots in England now?
Keeping his expression neutral, Shawn said to Professor McGonagall,
"Professor, I'll leave the decision to you. But it seems you'd still prefer me to join the England national team."
McGonagall rubbed her brow and sighed.
"You know what Britain's political situation is like. There are always disagreements of one sort or another. Britain is strongest when all four regions stand together.
If Ireland wins