The setting sun bled through the high arched windows of the castle, casting long, fiery shadows across the stone floor of the office. The golden light seemed to infuse Professor McGonagall with an excitement that did not belong to her age or her usual stern demeanor.
Her hands trembled slightly as she gripped the edge of her desk.
Oliver Wood, a burly fifth-year with the broad shoulders of a Keeper, stood before her. He hadn't seen Professor McGonagall this animated about Quidditch in a long time. Usually, she was all about transfiguration schedules and discipline.
"A natural," she was saying, her eyes gleaming behind her square spectacles. "I haven't seen a dive like that in years."
Her enthusiasm was infectious. It led Wood to develop a keen, burning interest in this young Seeker she was describing.
The Flying Grounds.
Down on the lawn, the atmosphere had shifted from tension to jubilation. Because he had successfully retrieved Neville's Remembrall from the clutches of gravity and Malfoy, Harry Potter was like a little hero at this moment.
The wind ruffled his messy black hair as he was surrounded by cheering first-years.
"Oh! Harry, you've done a fantastic job," Parvati Patil beamed, clapping her hands.
"Look," Seamus pointed, snickering. "Look at Malfoy. His mouth is crooked."
Ron Weasley certainly laughed the loudest. At the start of the lesson, Malfoy had mocked the Weasley family for being poor, stinging Ron's pride. Now, seeing Malfoy deflated—his treacherous plan backfiring spectacularly—those students who were once bullied and ridiculed by the Slytherin prince felt the sweet, intoxicating joy of revenge.
Malfoy stood on the periphery, his face flushed a mottled red, clutching his broomstick until his knuckles turned white.
"Harry Potter!" Malfoy spat, his voice trembling with rage. "There's no end to this!"
He was furious, humiliated in front of the entire class. Fortunately, he had his own little brothers—Crabbe and Goyle—flanking him. He turned to them, snapping, "Let's go!"
He stormed off toward the castle, his robes billowing angrily.
As Malfoy passed by the corner where Miss Hermione stood, his expression twisted further into a mask of embarrassment.
Boys are most afraid of being ashamed in front of the girl they like.
In the original story, Hermione was set as a girl who was not conventionally beautiful, with a bossy personality that repelled boys. But here, Hermione not only possessed the beauty of a movie heroine, but the soul within her carried a charm that made flowers bloom.
This radiance had made Malfoy fall in love—or at least into deep infatuation—at first sight. To walk past her now, having been bested by Potter, was agony.
He averted his gaze and hurried past.
Malfoy left, and the air cleared. Miss Hermione, ignoring the drama, looked at the blue system interface that only she could see.
[Congratulations for completing the Option 3 task. Reward: 1 Electric Fan.]
One electric fan?
She checked her inventory. It wasn't a large standing fan, but a mini handheld one. Very small, pink, and plastic.
But it's rechargeable, she noted. That's useful.
It would be convenient to take it out for use in the stifling heat of summer. Hermione's mind, always active as a scholar, began to race. She wondered if she could modify it with magic. If she could enchant it to auto-charge using ambient mana instead of electricity, it would become a perpetual magical tool.
She smiled to herself. Even in a magical world, modern conveniences had their place.
While Harry was still basking in the afterglow of defeating Malfoy's arrogance, Madam Hooch hadn't yet returned from the Hospital Wing.
Instead, a senior student strode onto the grass.
He was handsome and tall, wearing the scarlet robes of Gryffindor. Even though he hadn't announced his name yet, ripples of recognition went through the crowd.
"It's Oliver Wood," a boy whispered in awe. "Captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team."
"Wow! So handsome," a girl sighed. "Why did he come here?"
Wood scanned the group of first-years, looking for Harry Potter. However, his gaze snagged momentarily.
Among the many students, Miss Hermione was hidden in the crowd, trying to be invisible. Yet, her presence was like a diamond in a pile of rocks—it made people's eyes shine at a glance. Wood couldn't help but take a second look.
What a beautiful first-year girl, he sighed internally.
But fortunately, Hermione possessed the attribute [Low-key +3].
It worked like a charm. Wood's gaze slid off her, his attention redirecting to his mission. He wasn't some unruly boy distracted by pretty faces; he was a Captain on a mission.
"Who is Harry Potter?" Wood asked, his voice booming over the chatter.
The silence returned. Ron looked puzzled, and at the same time, worried. Was Harry in trouble again?
Harry, however, was not afraid of anything. He stepped forward, small but resolute.
"I am."
Wood looked down. Harry was small, slightly malnourished, and wore glasses that looked too big for his face. Physically, he didn't look like an athlete. Such a physique was really not suitable for the brutal, bone-breaking sport of Quidditch.
Wood, however, was not one to judge by appearances. After all, not everyone in Hogwarts was as shallow as Malfoy.
"Hi, my name is Oliver Wood, and I'm the Captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team."
Wood extended a hand, shaking Harry's firmly. Then, he went straight to the point.
"Just now, Professor McGonagall found me. She asked me to come and speak with you. I want you to be our Gryffindor Quidditch Seeker. What do you think?"
"..."
Harry Potter was stunned.
Behind him, the collective jaw of the entire first-year class dropped. The boys were almost dumbfounded.
"Is this real?"
"My God, I can't believe my ears?"
"Captain Wood actually personally invited Harry Potter to be the Seeker for the Gryffindor Quidditch team?"
"And it was recommended by that unsmiling Professor McGonagall... It's incredible."
First years were never allowed on the house teams. It was a rule. A century-old rule. And it had just been shattered.
Ron pulled Harry's sleeve excitedly, shaking him. "Harry! Did you hear that?"
Harry couldn't help laughing happily, though he was still in disbelief. "Excuse me, Senior Wood, are you kidding me?"
Wood saw that Harry had a good personality—humble, yet spirited—and seemed to be very popular with the children around him. He seemed to be a nice boy.
Wood laughed humorously. "If Professor McGonagall wasn't joking with me, then I'm not joking now either."
Harry's heart was beating violently against his ribs, a feeling of pure, adrenaline-fueled excitement.
He nodded nervously. "I think... I can try it."
Wood grinned, clapping Harry on the shoulder. "That's great. I can spare time to help you train. I believe you will become the best Seeker in Gryffindor."
Professor McGonagall was very prestigious. Although Harry's appearance and age didn't fit the mold, a child recommended by her must have exceptional talent. Wood would never question that.
In the original movie, the scene would cut to Wood teaching Harry the basics. Wood was a short-tempered perfectionist, his love for Quidditch bordering on obsession.
Standing in the back, the beautiful Miss Hermione watched the interaction.
She admitted she was very interested in the concept of flying broomsticks. In the real world, she had graduated high school but hadn't taken her driver's license test yet. She was stuck riding electric scooters, buses, or the subway. The idea that a broomstick could ascend directly to the sky on the spot was naturally fascinating.
However, Hermione was not at all interested in the dangerous sport of Quidditch.
As Wood had once humorously put it: As a Quidditch team, you either play safe and sound, or you disappear for a week or two and then reappear.
Of course, when you disappeared, you were lying in the Hospital Wing growing bones back or recovering from a concussion.
Quidditch was quite dangerous. Going to the hospital was as common as eating and drinking for these players.
So, for Quidditch, it was okay to let Miss Hermione watch the game from the stands, but if she was really asked to participate? Absolutely not. She cherished her limbs too much.
But the System seemed interested.
Just as Hermione was about to take out the small hand-held fan to cool herself down, the blue light curtain popped up again, hovering in front of her face.
[Option 1: Apply to Captain Oliver Wood to join the Gryffindor Quidditch team as a substitute. Complete the task, Reward: Basic Attribute +1]
[Option 2: Go to Malfoy, comfort his wounded heart. Complete the task, Reward: 1 Bottle of Cola (Happy Fat House Water).]
[Option 3: Follow Harry quietly, triggering Harry to learn about the Golden Snitch. Complete the task, Reward: A Comfortable Bicycle Cushion.]
Holy shit!!
The little fairy Hermione couldn't help but mentally swear.
This System is really... it knows exactly what I want.
As a lady, it was really inconvenient to sit on a broomstick. The wood was hard, thin, and unforgiving. If she sat sideways, it was elegant but definitely not safe.
But if she added a Comfortable Bicycle Cushion...
It would be perfect. It would solve the pain of long-distance flight. It suited the delicate Hermione so well.
Therefore, Option 3 was incredibly exciting for Hermione at the moment.
The most valuable option, statistically, was Option 1. But Hermione didn't want to be a Quidditch player. Successful or not, she didn't want to be involved in a sport where "Bludgers" were designed to knock you off your broom.
"Hanging on" (staying alive), being safe, and being comfortable were more suitable for her philosophy.
As for Option 2? Who would comfort Malfoy, that sand sculpture (idiot)! That guy was so bad, he deserved every bit of humiliation he got today!
Hermione made her choice. She adjusted her bag and quietly began to shadow Harry and Wood as they walked toward the equipment shed.