A Certain Magical Hogwarts

With Cho successfully securing her spot as Seeker, William entered the pitch to participate in the tryouts.

Cedric had brought along a banner featuring a wing-flapping eagle to cheer for Cho. Now, with minimal effort, he glued a piece of paper with William's name over Cho's, leaving everything else unchanged.

William rolled his eyes. Seriously? Could you be any lazier?

Amid their half-hearted cheers, William strode confidently onto the field. He was trying out for the position of Chaser.

In Quidditch, each team fields seven players. Among them are three Chasers, responsible for passing the Quaffle and scoring by getting it through one of the opposing team's three hoops. Each goal is worth ten points.

Each team also has a Keeper, whose job is to defend the hoops.

In essence, Quidditch is a hybrid of football and basketball—except played on broomsticks, midair.

William's competition included a sizable group of hopefuls, among them two returning players: fourth-year Ralph Zanon and third-year Roger Davies.

But William wasn't particularly concerned about any of them. He was determined to claim one of the Chaser spots for himself.

This confidence stemmed from his countless hours of rigorous training during the time loops.

He had no trouble scoring against both Hufflepuff and Gryffindor's top-tier teams. Joining Ravenclaw, a team that had long been the league's underdog, felt like child's play.

In fact, William wasn't here just to join. He was here to dominate.

He half-expected someone to mutter, "I thought they brought Stark in to support me."

Mounting his Nimbus 1700, William gave a light kick and soared effortlessly into the sky.

The familiar rush of wind brought him back to that April 20th final in one of the loops.

Below, the tryout began.

Ravenclaw's selection process was straightforward: evaluate each player's ability to score from various positions on the pitch.

The higher the scoring accuracy, the better the chances of making the team.

Unlike professional clubs, the school didn't bother with height, weight, body fat percentage, shuttle runs, or sprint tests. 

And forget endurance trials like those conducted by seasoned Quidditch teams.

Some professional clubs even subjected players to stamina tests. Last year's Quidditch World Cup final, for example, lasted five days and nights. Scotland narrowly missed victory, losing to Canada.

Without the ability to endure such games, players simply didn't make it.

This explained why most Quidditch players went bald young. Charlie Weasley's decision to study dragons in Romania was undoubtedly wise.

At Hogwarts, however, things were more casual. There wouldn't even be a 7v7 scrimmage match.

William felt a twinge of disappointment upon learning this. He had hoped to show off some of the elbow-checking techniques he'd honed with Charlie Weasley during the loops.

Though Charlie had been a Seeker, he had an uncanny knack for irritating Chasers with his sneaky fouls. 

William had sought out Charlie for training and picked up plenty of dirty tricks along the way.

In Charlie's own words: "Just elbow it!"

Such antics weren't frowned upon in Quidditch as long as they didn't aim to injure people. Trash talk and sneaky moves were part of the game's charm.

William hovered mid-air, catching the Quaffle as it was passed to him. He shot ten times in a row, hitting the hoop every single time.

In his previous life, William had been the star shooting guard of his orphanage's basketball team, earning the nickname "Three-Point Prince." His muscle memory and sharp instincts hadn't diminished despite the time loops.

He shot with the same effortless basketball form, his broomstick gliding smoothly. His release was so quick it seemed as if he was merely flicking the Quaffle forward.

The motion brought to mind a certain primary school basketball prodigy. If Stephen Curry's release took 0.3 seconds, William's was equally blink-and-you'll-miss-it.

Professor Flitwick appeared at some point, signaling everyone to leave William undisturbed. With a wave of his wand, he guided the Quaffle directly to William's hand.

One hundred shots. One hundred goals.

William moved around the field, firing from the corners, the thirty-degree angle, the forty-five-degree mark, his accuracy impeccable from all positions.

For his final shot, William hovered at midfield. Casually, he aimed, launching a high, graceful arc that sailed cleanly through the center hoop.

Even William was surprised by his performance. He rarely attempted such long-range shots in the loops, given that Quidditch had no three-point line. But today, he couldn't seem to miss.

Professor Flitwick stood on the sidelines, hands on his hips, grinning from ear to ear.

It was clear to everyone present: Ravenclaw's Quidditch team would rebuild around William.

That rebuild required adjustments, including new strategies. The core plan? Get the Quaffle to William and let him dominate.

William was more than on board with this approach.

Sure, it might look selfish or toxic, but for a team that had always been at the bottom, this was the most viable strategy.

William would score while Cho hunted for the Golden Snitch. That was the essence of the game plan.

Descending to the ground, William was greeted by Professor Flitwick, who grabbed his hand with a smile so wide it resembled a blooming chrysanthemum.

Students from other houses watched William with a mix of awe and respect. It seemed Ravenclaw Quidditch was on the rise.

For the next few days, the school buzzed with talk about William's performance. His tryout had left an enormous impression everyone that was present on the field that day..

Of course, not everyone was convinced. Critics pointed out that shooting accuracy in open space meant little.

In an actual game, Bludgers, fouls, and defensive interference would make such precision nearly impossible.

In the eyes of many, william had never played an official game, just throwing balls from open field meant little.

Hearing this, William merely smiled. If anyone underestimated him in a real match, he'd happily teach them a lesson.

Meanwhile, Quidditch fever swept the school.

Last year's much-anticipated Hufflepuff-Gryffindor final had been canceled due to Tywin, leaving everyone disappointed. Now, excitement was surging once more.

On Tuesday morning, the Great Hall fell silent as thirty screech owls carried in a long, conspicuous package.

When William and his friends opened it, revealing five brand-new Nimbus 2000s, the entire school erupted in excitement.

Students swarmed in, eager for a chance to touch the brooms.

The Weasley twins, ever the entrepreneurial spirits, quickly seized the opportunity, offering broomstick rides for ten Sickles per twenty-minute session.

Soon, the Quidditch pitch was lined with eager students waiting their turn.

The twins even tried borrowing William's broomstick.

At their current pace, they estimated they could recoup the cost of all five brooms within six months.

However, William, unimpressed, shooed them away, muttering, "Not on my watch."

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