Chapter 31

[Chapter Size: 1700 Words.]

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"Did you hear? Harry Potter was selected for the house Quidditch team! And he's a Seeker!"

Throughout the castle, young witches and wizards had been discussing this topic for days. Some were astonished, while others remained skeptical.

That Thursday afternoon, after Professor McGonagall had pulled Harry and Ron off the lawn, she went straight to Oliver Wood and introduced them to him.

Wood had been worried about the quality of this year's players. The seventh-year Seekers were too focused on their exams to commit fully to training, and the fourth-year substitute was simply not up to standard.

At that very moment, Harry and Ron arrived at the doorway, and it was none other than their head of house who had brought them.

Wood knew that Professor McGonagall had been an exceptional Quidditch player in her youth, at least at the academy level. He had complete confidence in her judgment.

After a brief trial, Wood's mouth nearly stretched into a grin that reached the back of his head. Surprise, pure, unfiltered surprise!

Although he had high expectations due to his trust in Professor McGonagall, he was still blown away by Harry and Ron's skills. Without hesitation, he decided that the two first-years should join the team immediately.

Of course, this required special permission from Professor McGonagall. After all, under normal school rules, first-years weren't allowed to join the Quidditch team.

Professor McGonagall, however, was well aware of the current state of her house team. With a single stroke of her quill, the decision was made. Not only had Harry joined the team, but he had also secured a position as a starting Seeker. As for who would play between the seventh-year veteran and the fourth-year substitute? That would be determined in the next training session.

As for Wood, he was incredibly optimistic about Harry's potential.

Ron, on the other hand, was seen as an excellent candidate for Keeper. Both Wood and Professor McGonagall believed he had great potential, so he was temporarily placed as Wood's backup. Even though he was technically a substitute, Ron was beyond thrilled.

After all, no one in his family had ever played for their house team as a first-year.

Harry, too, was delighted, even if it meant most of his free time would now be dedicated to training. Ron was just as pleased, especially after receiving a congratulatory letter from his mother, Mrs. Weasley.

The Gryffindor students were ecstatic. But not everyone was happy.

Draco Malfoy Was Not Happy.

"Why? Why did Potter get to join the Quidditch team in his first year?"

"Fine, maybe Potter was good. But why on earth was that redheaded Weasley allowed on the team, too?"

Draco was displeased.

Draco was not happy.

And what happens when Master Draco is displeased and unhappy?

Trouble, of course.

Once the news broke, Draco made it his mission to provoke Harry and Ron at every opportunity, at breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

But from that day on, Harry and Ron were caught up in near-daily Quidditch training and had neither the time nor the energy to spare for Draco.

Completely ignored, Draco, now deprived of the attention he craved, became even more unhappy.

The Other Person Who Wasn't Happy? Oliver Wood.

But Wood's frustration had nothing to do with Harry or Ron's performance. In fact, their skills had exceeded his expectations time and time again.

What made him furious was the fact that now, the entire school knew about them.

"Bloody hell, I explicitly told you to keep this as a secret weapon, not blabber it to the whole castle!"

Wood glared at Fred and George Weasley, his frustration boiling over.

"You two have the biggest mouths in Gryffindor!" he roared during practice.

As punishment, he increased the twins' training load by 30% that day.

"Good job, Wood!" This praise came from Angelina Johnson, a talented and striking Gryffindor Chaser.

"Those two troublemakers should have been dealt with ages ago."

Fred and George: "Ah!"

The next few weeks were exhausting for Harry. But despite the fatigue, he was happier than ever.

And thanks to a reminder from Hermione, he discovered something unexpected, a medal belonging to his father, James Potter, displayed in the trophy room.

"James Potter – Hogwarts' Best Chaser of the Year."

These were among the few pieces of information Harry had about his parents.

And they meant everything.

Although Hagrid clearly knew a great deal, his ability to express himself was concerning.

All he could say was that they were good people and excellent witches and wizards, but beyond that, he struggled to articulate much else.

Yet, in various books, countless articles had been written about him, while only a handful mentioned Harry's parents. Even then, the main headline always focused on Harry Potter's parents, never on them as individuals.

That was disgraceful.

…

That evening, after dinner, Harry and Ron prepared to head to the Quidditch pitch for practice.

As they reached the castle gates, they were stopped by Draco Malfoy and his ever-present followers, Crabbe and Goyle, who appeared to have been waiting there for quite some time.

"Hey, Scarhead, you've been quite active lately." Draco smirked at Harry, his tone full of mockery.

"Mummy's boy, do you know how annoying you are?" Harry snapped, irritation creeping into his voice. Lately, Draco had been pestering him almost every single day, and it was getting on his nerves, especially now, when he needed to focus on training.

"Don't call me that!" Draco immediately flared up, clearly displeased with the nickname.

"If you stay out of my way, I won't call you that anymore," Harry replied, rolling his eyes in exasperation. "Now, can you please move? We're in a hurry."

With that, Harry and Ron stepped forward, ready to pass the trio and head to practice. If they were late, Wood would definitely give them an earful.

"Heh!"

Draco suddenly seemed to remember why he was there in the first place. He stepped forward again, blocking Harry's path once more.

"I challenge you to a duel!"

"A duel?"

Harry blinked in surprise, eyeing Draco with mild amusement.

To him, Draco looked thin and frail, hardly the type to pick a fight. A slow grin spread across Harry's face as he cracked his knuckles.

"Looks like some people spend too much time eating and not enough time fighting," he remarked. "Fine, let's get this over with."

Draco flinched at the sight of Harry flexing his hands. He instinctively jumped backward, throwing his hands up in a defensive stance.

Not just him, Crabbe and Goyle also took a step back.

Clearly, the encounter on the train had left a lasting impression on them.

"You're not going to duel?" Harry asked with a smirk, pretending to roll up his sleeves.

Of course, he was just trying to scare Draco.

This was the main entrance of the castle, where students were constantly coming and going. Sure, it would be satisfying to put Draco in his place right here, but the consequences... well, those wouldn't be pleasant.

"A wizard's duel, you fool!" Malfoy snapped, his arrogance creeping back in, though there was a hint of unease in his voice.

"Not your barbaric kind of duel."

"A wizard's duel?" Harry raised an eyebrow.

Of course, he knew exactly what Draco was talking about.

In their first week of History of Magic, their homework had been to write an essay on wizarding duels. He had done his research and understood the long-standing tradition behind it.

A proper wizard's duel meant that only wands could be used, no physical contact. Additionally, a second (or assistant) was required. In the old days, if a duelist fell, their second had to take their place and continue the fight.

Of course, after thousands of years, the rules had changed.

In modern times, unless the duelists were true mortal enemies, the assistant's role was mainly to intervene if things got out of hand, preventing serious injury.

Wizards, or at least modern wizards, were generally less violent and far more cautious about their own lives.

"So, what do you say? Do you dare?"

Seeing that Harry had lowered his fists, Draco's cocky demeanor returned.

"Of course, I dare!"

Before Harry could even respond, Ron had already stepped forward.

Having done the same History of Magic homework, he was well-versed in the concept of wizard duels.

"I'll be Harry's second! Who's yours?" Ron declared.

Draco scowled, clearly irritated by Ron's interference. He glared at him for a moment before reluctantly answering.

"Crabbe. My second is Crabbe," he said, then quickly added, "We'll settle this Friday at midnight, in the trophy room. Whoever doesn't show up is a coward!"

Without waiting for Harry or Ron to respond, Draco turned on his heel and strode away, Crabbe and Goyle lumbering after him.

"Ron! Why did you agree so fast?" Harry sighed, exasperated.

As a friend, Ron was great in every way, except for the fact that he was reckless and easily riled up.

"Oh, please," Ron scoffed, waving a dismissive hand. "Draco's all talk. How many spells do you think he actually knows? And duels? If you ask me…"

Before he could finish his sentence, another voice cut in from behind them.

"Excuse me for interrupting."

Harry and Ron jumped and whirled around, startled.

Standing behind them, arms crossed and looking thoroughly unimpressed, was Hermione Granger.

She was staring at them disapprovingly, her expression severe.

"Hermione, you know," Ron grumbled, pressing a hand to his chest as he caught his breath, "scaring people like that isn't good for their health! What's that thing called again, Harry? The one you told me about last time, heart attack?"

Hermione shot him a sharp glare but chose to ignore him.

Instead, she turned to Harry, her tone dead serious.

"I just happened to overhear your conversation with Malfoy..."

Before she could finish, Harry and Ron exchanged knowing looks and simultaneously rolled their eyes.

There was no need to hear the rest.

They could already predict exactly what Hermione was about to say.

******

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