Chapter 35 The Broom Game
His Hogwarts possessed a magical power.
Negative influences like being in a foreign land, a boarding school, and boys' dormitories didn't diminish Basil's unique love for the castle and the school.
Every professor there, except Snape and Quirrell (though Dumbledore, as headmaster, wasn't quite there),
grew closer to him as he got to know them.
They were no longer empty characters depicted in the movies,
but kind teachers who accompanied him daily, dedicated to his studies.
In less than a month,
Professor McGonagall became Basil's favorite teacher, without a doubt.
She was a strict witch. She
loved checkered patterns; her dressing gown, travel bag, and handkerchief were all checkered.
She always maintained a serious demeanor, impartial in everything.
But Quidditch was an exception.
Basil had always been curious about this,
especially since Ron hadn't gotten any inside information.
Nick, almost headless, understood this too.
But today, he might be about to miscalculate.
Basil wasn't excited by this.
The gloom of working or going to school during holidays was something nothing could dispel.
"It all goes back to seventh year, to your Professor McGonagall."
"Back then, she was a Seeker."
"She had decided to graduate and go to the Ministry of Magic, giving up Quidditch."
"It was a final match, Gryffindor vs. Slytherin."
"The outcome of that match would determine who gets the Quidditch Cup."
"However, just as McGonagall was about to touch the Golden Snitch, bringing her Quidditch career to a perfect close—"
Nick drawled.
Basil remained somber.
But the students surrounding him gave Nick the motivation to continue.
"Boom! A running ball. Bang! Along with a club, it hit McGonagall in the chest and head in quick succession."
Ron, Neville, Seamus, Dean from the next dorm, and the others jumped to their feet, exclaiming in unison, "It's Slytherin!"
Nick nodded. "As a result, Slytherin was penalized for a foul, but Gryffindor still lost the match despite losing a Seeker."
"From then on, seeing the Slytherin Quidditch team lose a game was McGonagall's lifelong wish!"
"She never missed a single game with the Slytherin team."
Nick gave Basil a focused look.
He didn't seem to have given up yet.
"Speaking of Quidditch, you must be curious when your flying lessons will start, right?"
"I'm letting you know in advance, it's this Thursday, you will have your first flying lesson!"
Basil remained unmoved.
Even though all the young wizards in the surrounding wizarding families were getting excited,
he was an exception.
Because his parents were killed by Death Eaters while playing the most popular aerial baton game in Devon.
Before he awakened his memories, he wasn't like the other young wizards who liked Quidditch.
But the sport the young wizards around him were talking about still caught his ears.
They were all discussing their local broomstick game.
Ron from Devon was the first to stand up.
He described the knightly sport in the sky, aerial baton game.
Everyone held a round-headed stick, like knights, using flying broomsticks as horses, dueling in the sky.
Until the last one.
And he, Ron himself, was the greatest knight.
No young wizard could survive his lance.
A young Hufflepuff wizard claiming to be from Herefordshire stepped forward.
He said that aerial collisions were too barbaric and didn't showcase the skill of broom riding.
Their Herefordshire broom riding was the true test of skill.
A pig bladder was suspended in the air.
The athletes took off from the same distance,
riding backwards and striking the bladder with the end of the broom.
The first to reach 50 points was the winner.
Seamus raised his glass in disdain.
Hailing from Ireland, he began to introduce his hometown's broom game—stilt fire barrels.
Each athlete held a goat's gallbladder called a dom.
They quickly passed through a burning barrel suspended high in the air on stilts. The
one who didn't catch fire at the end was the winner.
This was the perfect combination of skill and courage.
Riding a broom backwards is nothing but a circus act!
Finally, Ernie Macmillan from Hufflepuff, Scotland, stepped forward.
"Everyone here, the sports you've mentioned are rubbish."
"No sport can compare to our Scottish cauldron-balancing act."
"It is the true symbol of courage, the ultimate test of manhood and bravery."
The room fell silent.
Ron muttered resentfully, "That's cheating!"
Not a single person at the Gryffindor table refuted him.
After hearing the name of the sport,
Basil was finally intrigued.
"Tell me more about it?"
Basil's outstanding performance in class, his boldness unlike Hermione's, his disregard for rules, and his handsome appearance undoubtedly made him the leader of their year of Gryffindor.
He was also quite famous in the other houses.
So, when Macmillan saw it was Basil, he immediately nodded.
"This is a game of death and bloodshed, a test of the athletes' courage!"
"Twelve athletes with cauldrons on their heads."
"Above them, suspended a hundred feet above the ground, are a hundred enchanted stones of varying sizes!" "
At the start of the competition, the athletes must take flight and catch the stones with their cauldrons."
"The athlete who catches the most stones and survives is the winner!"
Seamus became increasingly excited as he spoke, eventually reciting poetry.
Twelve handsome and strong young men
gathered at the arena,
cauldrons attached to their belts, waiting silently
for their flight.
At the sound of a horn,
they leaped into the sky,
but ten heroic athletes
were destined to die.
Finally, he lamented, "Unfortunately, balancing cauldrons was declared an illegal sport in 1762."
Basil's mouth gaped open, but no sound came out.
As if under a spell.
No wonder no Gryffindors stepped forward; this was a complete dimensional assault.
Twelve athletes, only two survive?
Such a high mortality rate.
There's a reason why Scottish wizards are few.
Thursday seemed to arrive in the blink of an eye.
In the morning, almost all the students were engrossed in their upcoming flying lesson.
Hermione, unusually, didn't bother Basil.
She kept reciting the flying instructions she'd read in *Quidditch Origins*,
saying it was another great opportunity to earn extra points.
Everyone should work together to win this year's House Cup.
Basil thought it was futile.
They were all classmates; all the young wizards from wizarding families, except Neville, had ridden brooms.
Hermione had only read the book; her approach would only annoy people.
Sure enough, everyone except Neville showed disgust.
Only Neville listened intently to every word Hermione said, hoping to glean some useful knowledge to help him stay firmly on his flying broom later.
Even Harry, who thought he'd embarrass himself in flying lesson, wasn't paying attention.
Instead, he was asking Ron about flying techniques.
Hermione, however, paid no attention, still absorbed in her lecture.
Just as Basil was about to give her a warning, the postmen arrived.
Hermione shut her mouth.
Basil looked enviously at the other students who received mail.
He was an orphan and couldn't afford a newspaper subscription,
so no one sent him letters.
Harry was the same; apart from Hagrid's text message in the first week of September, he hadn't received any mail.
Now, the two were in the same boat.
No, there was one more person.
It was Malfoy at the Slytherin table.
At the beginning of the school year, he would often receive sweets from owls.
He would proudly open them at the Slytherin table and share them with the students around him.
But lately, he didn't seem to receive any owls anymore.
The two chubby little guys who followed him around like doormen, Goyle and Crabbe, didn't pay much attention to him anymore.
He was more like a follower now.
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(End of Chapter)