Chapter 46: What Is Top-tier Athletic Talent!
Melvin walked beside Headmaster Dumbledore and found a seat in the Godric Gryffindor stands.
Actually, Melvin himself wasn’t very interested in Quidditch, mainly because he felt the rules of this sport were a bit deformed.
As a competitive ball sport, it had no direct physical contact at all. From the perspective of wizard players, Quidditch also didn’t allow players to use magic, and all offensive and disruptive actions were prohibited—what was there to watch?
The other positions like Chasers, Beaters, and Keeper, with twelve people from two teams risking being knocked off while batting around, one Quaffle was only 10 points, the Seeker lingered outside the main battlefield, catching a Golden Snitch for 150 points… No wonder the best players in every tournament were always Seekers.
But Melvin’s opinion didn’t matter; Quidditch was the most popular sport among wizards in the wizarding world, and he was here to record the event today.
Last week, he had already discussed the cooperation details with Madam Rosmerta; mainly, the school side still needed the headmaster’s approval. Melvin had thought a week would be plenty of time to talk to the headmaster, but Dumbledore hadn’t shown up all week. Professor McGonagall kept saying he was busy and wouldn’t say if he was at school or not; anyway, the headmaster’s office was empty.
Clearly, all school affairs were handled by Professor McGonagall, so who knew what this headmaster was busy with?
For the past seven days, he had been looking for the headmaster every day, finally waiting until today when he showed up.
“…That’s the matter.”
After Melvin finished explaining the cooperation plan, he felt a bit mentally exhausted: “From the income earned, I’ll only take a portion as commission, and the remaining Galleons will be used to improve the school’s Quidditch events, like standardizing the broomsticks for competing players. There’s a serious equipment gap between the school’s four teams.
“Headmaster, look, Potter rides a Nimbus 2000 gifted by Professor McGonagall, the latest model in the Nimbus series, with a top speed of 170 miles per hour, capable of 360-degree sharp turns anywhere in the air. This isn’t fair to the other players. Before this, Slytherin players had the best broomsticks, so they swept the championships for the past five years. In comparison, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw still have players using Cleansweep Fours, and ones passed down in the teams for several years at that.
“In the long run, having adult wizards outside the school watch the matches will help expand the fame of the school team players. If any player wants to pursue a Quidditch career after graduation, this could be helpful.
“Additionally, it can expand Hogwarts’s influence…
“And… also… including…”
Melvin spent ten minutes explaining the plan, logically and orderly, though a bit parched, and looked at Dumbledore, whom he hadn’t seen for a week: “What do you think?”
“Hmm…”
Dumbledore adjusted his glasses; for watching today’s match, he had specially changed to a new pair: “Actually, I agreed after your first sentence, just as I once said, I’m delighted to see you bring new vitality to Hogwarts.”
Melvin looked at the mild smile on the headmaster’s face and felt it had some wicked humor, but he had achieved his goal, so wicked humor it was.
“Headmaster, what have you been doing this week?”
“I went to Kent to visit some ghost friends, inquiring about matters concerning the deceased after death.” Dumbledore replied casually, his tone light, as if it were an ordinary outing to visit friends.
“Doesn’t Hogwarts have ghosts?”
“I’ve already talked to them; I went to Kent only because I didn’t get answers.”
“Did the ghosts in Kent give answers?”
“No.”
Melvin could tell there was a hint of sadness in the headmaster’s voice; he wanted to comfort him but didn’t know how to start, so he simply changed the subject: “Headmaster, has there been any progress in the research on Rowena Ravenclaw’s Diadem?”
“Not yet.”
“…”
Melvin’s eyebrows twitched; he wanted to ask more.
Dumbledore had already turned to look at the center of the pitch: “Look, the match has started!”
“Hello everyone! Welcome to the Hogwarts Quidditch match site for this season! Today’s match is Slytherin versus Godric Gryffindor…”
Lee Jordan’s commentary voice spread throughout the pitch; after introducing the players from both sides, the match soon began.
Each team had seven players: the Keeper guarded the scoring hoops, the Seeker lingered on the periphery of the pitch, the two Beaters drove the Bludgers and attacked opposing players, and the three Chasers sent the Quaffle into the opponent’s scoring hoops.
The two opposing teams had starkly different styles: Slytherin was almost all burly boys, while Godric Gryffindor had both boys and girls, with generally normal to slim builds.
All underage students, players at this age were limited by physical development, so their speed and power couldn’t compare to professional players. Slytherin players’ beats were fierce and ruthless, Godric Gryffindor players parried quickly, but the audience could clearly see the actions; the chases lacked deep strategy, and roundabout insertion tactics were easy even for ordinary viewers to understand.
The match had no time limit; it was decided by catching the Golden Snitch.
This match didn’t have a huge score gap; Slytherin always led by thirty points.
It could be called a tense and thrilling deadlock.
Around ten minutes into the game, Slytherin’s Flint started directly attacking players, aiming at heads and chests, and surprisingly it wasn’t a foul—Madam Hooch only gave a verbal warning.
Quidditch matches had over seven hundred types of fouls, but none could red-card players off; at most, it was just a free kick for the offense.
Melvin had always thought that without evolving into both sides blasting magic at each other, it was because Quidditch players hadn’t opened their minds. Starting the game by pulling out wands for sneak attacks to disable the opponents, no matter how many free kicks penalized, it didn’t matter—as long as they won in the end.
Later he figured it out: it was a game theory balance. As long as no one pulled a wand, Quidditch was just a ball sport; if someone broke the balance, Quidditch became a duelling sport.
“Flint deliberately collides with Harry, foul!”
Lee Jordan’s roar spread throughout the pitch.
Godric Gryffindor got another free kick; the audience watched the penalty result, but only a few noticed Harry’s broomstick acting up—it started shaky, then turned into violent rolling and swaying.
Melvin’s gaze swept around and quickly found the familiar little witch under a bed sheet-modified support banner, watching her cautiously weave through the crowd, quietly reach the Slytherin stands, slip into the engrossed spectators, and then—
Set Snape’s robe on fire.
“Heh…”
Melvin couldn’t help but smile.
Dumbledore turned his head, a similar smile on his face: “Anything interesting?”
Melvin nodded lightly, his gaze turning to the center of the pitch, where that Nimbus 2000 was still twitching and swaying; Harry had been thrown off, clinging tightly to the handle with one hand, teetering:
“Headmaster, I think you should pay attention to Potter right now.”
“Fledglings must experience the feeling of falling to spread their wings and soar.”
As the words fell, the fire on the Slytherin stands had grown, eliciting a wave of exclamations.
The broomstick twitching in midair had stabilized; that Potter, after a long one-armed hang, still had plenty of stamina, did a one-handed pull-up to get back on the broomstick, straddled it again, then dove to catch the Golden Snitch.
“Match over, Godric Gryffindor wins 170 to 60!”
“…”
Melvin looked at Potter’s slender frame, falling silent.
What tremendous physical talent.
