I Won, so Why Are You the One Joining the Team?!

Before long, Madam Hooch returned from the hospital wing.

Seeing that Neville had been properly cared for and everyone had obediently stayed on the grass, her tense expression finally softened a little.

While she had been away, however, Hermione had picked something up.

It was a glass ball with a cloud of red smoke floating inside.

Hermione recognized it: Neville's Remembrall.

It must have fallen out of Neville's pocket during the accident.

"That's a Remembrall." Ron glanced at it. "It turns red when you've forgotten something."

Harry looked down at it.

Great. Neville had forgotten at least one thing now.

He had left his Remembrall here, too.

"Longbottom's wrist needs rest. Madam Pomfrey will look after him."

Madam Hooch stopped in front of the group, sweeping her stern gaze over every student present.

"But I hope you all remember the lesson you just learned. Flying is no game, and I don't want any more accidents like that!"

"Next, we'll practice turning. In groups again. Go around the marker, then come back here."

Malfoy's eyes lit up at once.

"Professor, I can go first." Having said that, she immediately looked at Harry. "Stupid Potter wants to practice, too."

Madam Hooch turned her head, and Harry nodded.

"Yes, Professor."

He did want to practice. As for why the young lady was so eager to volunteer him, that was another matter.

Madam Hooch had them stand at the front and checked their grips on the broom handles.

"Keep your distance, and don't go higher than three meters. Watch where you're going when you turn. Don't just charge straight ahead."

"Understood," Malfoy answered promptly.

Then she turned her head slightly, lowering her voice.

"Potter, we had a deal."

Harry glanced at the marker. "Whoever gets back first wins."

"Good."

The girl's lips curled upward. This time, it was finally her turn.

The whistle blew, and the two broomsticks left the ground almost simultaneously.

Harry held the wooden handle steady and flew forward. After his earlier flight, he was much more used to the feeling of empty space beneath his feet.

His broom no longer swayed from side to side, either. Wind brushed past his cheeks, and blades of grass raced backward.

Malfoy was right beside him.

She glanced at him, the smugness in her eyes fading a little.

He actually kept up. Still, the marker ahead was already close.

The girl gently lowered her shoulder, and her broom tilted with her.

Harry began turning, too. The wooden handle angled in his hands, but his body lagged half a beat behind.

He hurriedly corrected himself. His broom finally rounded the marker, but its arc was wider than Malfoy's.

By the time he lined himself up with the way back, that head of long platinum hair was already ahead of him.

Harry sped up a little, closing the gap slightly.

But Malfoy had already straightened her broom and was flying toward the starting point.

Her movements were steady. There had been almost no unnecessary pause during her turn.

Harry stared ahead, doing his best to catch up.

But Malfoy crossed the starting point first, gently lowering her broom until her feet touched the grass.

Harry flew back right after her.

"Very good, Malfoy. You controlled your speed well during the turn."

Madam Hooch nodded, then looked at Harry.

"Potter, adjust your center of gravity earlier next time. You swung a little too wide."

"Yes, Professor."

Harry slowly descended and glanced down at the panel.

[Effective flying practice.]

[Flying: beginner (26/100).]

"Potter!" Malfoy had already spun around eagerly.

The girl held her broom, her chin raised even higher than before. The smugness in her gray-green eyes was almost spilling over.

"Did you get a good look?"

"I did."

"Who got back first?"

"You."

"So?"

Harry looked at her and finally couldn't help laughing. "You won, Miss Malfoy."

The girl could no longer suppress the upward curve of her lips.

I won!

I really won!

No Potions suddenly pulled out of nowhere, and no professor deciding to ask an extra question.

Stupid Potter watched me fly back first with his own eyes, and even admitted it himself!

"Hmph." Malfoy flicked the long hair over her shoulder. "I told you ages ago, this young lady can do more than recite books."

Goyle and Crabbe had already come over.

"Miss, that was a brilliant turn."

"Of course."

The girl answered with perfect composure, but her eyes kept straying toward Harry.

Well, Potter? Surely you know just how capable this young lady is now?

Ron looked at the marker, then at Harry.

"Don't feel bad, Harry. You only just lost."

Harry held his broom, preparing to land.

Beside him, Ron shifted a step forward, raising the broom in his hand as he did.

The wooden handle accidentally bumped Hermione's arm.

"Ron!"

Hermione's hand jerked, and the Remembrall she had not yet had time to put away slipped from her palm.

Sunlight struck the glass in a flash of light.

Harry's gaze immediately followed it.

The ball was falling.

The thought had barely surfaced before the broom in his hands changed direction.

This time, he did not look at the panel. His body tilted with the wooden handle, and the broom swept diagonally toward the ground.

The hem of his robes brushed the grass. Harry bent low and reached out.

The glass ball dropped into his palm.

A moment later, he steadied his broom again. The grass beneath him swept past his side before he slowly came to a stop.

For a moment, everything around him fell silent.

Ron's mouth was still open, and Hermione had not yet withdrawn her outstretched hand.

Harry sat up straight and looked down.

It hadn't broken. The red smoke was still slowly swirling inside the glass ball.

"Got it." He raised the ball and waved it at Hermione. "Better put it away first next time."

He had barely finished speaking when a voice rang out from the direction of the castle.

"Harry Potter!"

Harry looked up.

Professor McGonagall was striding down the stone steps, her dark green robes swaying with her steps and her expression very stern.

She glanced first at the glass ball in Harry's hand, then at the broom beneath him. "Get down."

Harry hurriedly landed. "Professor, I was only-"

"Come with me."

Professor McGonagall turned to Madam Hooch, and the two exchanged a few quiet words.

Then she looked at Harry again.

"Now."

Ron's expression suddenly turned rather grim. Hermione hugged her textbooks tighter, guilt on her face.

Harry handed her the Remembrall and obediently followed.

Malfoy stood where she was, the upward curve of her lips faltering slightly.

Stupid Potter looked like he was in trouble.

That was what he got for suddenly diving toward the ground. Even she hadn't had time to react.

Still... he really had caught it quickly.

The girl glanced down at her own broom, then raised her chin again.

Being quick was no use.

The one who won the race was this young lady.

After entering the castle, Harry couldn't help looking at Professor McGonagall.

"Professor, is this because I caught that ball?"

"Yes."

Harry's shoulders tensed slightly.

"Have you ridden a broom before?"

"No. Today was my first time."

Professor McGonagall stopped and looked at him for several seconds.

Then she continued on, her pace even a little faster than before.

Harry hurried after her. Was that reaction a good thing or a bad thing?

Upstairs, Professor McGonagall told him to wait outside a classroom and pushed open the door herself.

Before long, an older boy came out with her.

He was sturdily built, and his expression still held a trace of bewilderment.

"Wood, this is Harry Potter."

The boy looked at Harry. "Harry Potter?"

Harry nodded to him.

Wood.

Oliver Wood.

Hearing that surname, his tense shoulders suddenly relaxed a little.

Professor McGonagall continued, "I think I've found you a Seeker."

Wood's eyes widened at once.

"Professor, he's only a first-year-"

"I know." Professor McGonagall's tone was firm. "I saw what he did just now from the window. Quick judgment, timely reactions, and almost no hesitation."

She looked at Harry.

"Your turns and landings still need practice, but the reflexes you showed catching that ball were exceptional."

Harry opened his mouth.

So, after following her all this way...

He was here to join the team?

"But first-years usually aren't allowed-"

"I'll discuss that with Headmaster Dumbledore," Professor McGonagall said. "Wood, arrange for him to attend training first."

Wood was already sizing Harry up again. The bewilderment in his eyes had vanished, replaced by increasingly obvious excitement.

"What did you catch just now?"

"A Remembrall."

"How big?"

Harry indicated its size with his hands.

Wood nodded immediately. "Good. We'll still need to try you with a real Golden Snitch."

Watching him, Harry suddenly felt that getting out of class might not be so easy now.

By the time he returned to the Entrance Hall, Flying Class had ended.

Ron and Hermione were waiting for him by the doors.

"What happened?" Ron hurried over. "Did you lose points?"

"No."

"Then what did Professor McGonagall want with you?"

Harry looked at the two of them. "She asked me to join Quidditch training."

Ron froze.

"As a Seeker."

A barely stifled cry of surprise suddenly rang out in the Entrance Hall.

"Gryffindor's Seeker?!"

Not far away, Malfoy, who had just climbed the stone steps, stopped dead.

Goyle nearly walked into her.

The girl slowly turned her head and looked at Harry, whose arm Ron was gripping.

Seeker?

Potter?!

Hadn't he just lost to me?

How had he gone off with Professor McGonagall and come back on the Quidditch team?!

Malfoy tightened his grip on the textbooks in his hands.

Wait.

I was the young lady who won today.

Why was it you again, Harry Potter?!