Sitting across the table, Montague spoke up. "Count me in, Marcus."
Marcus nodded approvingly. "Good, Montague Rockman. I've seen you during flight practice. You're one of the better flyers among this year's Slytherins. Let's see… Next year, a Beater spot will be opening up. You could train for that—it'll take some well-developed biceps, so you'd better start working on them now."
"No problem!"
"Let me see, one Beater, one backup Keeper… I think we're still short two backup Chasers. Anyone got recommendations?"
The younger Slytherins exchanged hesitant looks before all their gazes inevitably settled on Nolan Von Draugr.
Nolan, sipping his O-negative-infused 'tomato juice', shot them a sharp glance. "Don't be ridiculous. You all know I'm no good at flying," he said softly.
"But you're clearly a great flyer," Miles Bletchley chimed in. "That day when you saved Eve, you were so fast—we all saw it. Nolan, come on, let's play Quidditch together! What wizard doesn't like Quidditch?"
Nolan thought for a moment before responding in a low voice, "Then why not have Eve try out? You've all heard Madam Hooch say that she's one of the best students she's ever taught when it comes to flying."
The table fell silent, and the younger Slytherins' expressions darkened.
It was an undeniable fact that Eve had an exceptional talent for flying. Despite her shaky performances in subsequent flying lessons, she was still better than anyone else. However, for the prideful Slytherins, the thought of a Muggle-born representing their house on the Quidditch team was a sensitive subject.
Nolan glanced at their conflicted faces, then sighed. "Come on, you all know she's the most suitable candidate." He turned to Marcus. "Marcus, you're the captain. Do you honestly think Eve isn't fit for the team?"
"I…" Marcus scratched his head in frustration. He didn't want to risk becoming the target of his housemates' disapproval.
Nolan rapped his fingers on the table, then turned his gaze to the quiet corner of the hall. "Eve, what's your opinion?"
All eyes turned to Eve.
The young witch set down her fork and remained silent for a moment. Finally, she spoke earnestly, "I… I want to join the Quidditch team." Her voice trailed off as she noticed the hostile or skeptical looks directed at her, and she lowered her head. "If that's even possible…"
"Hmm…" Marcus hesitated, still mulling it over.
Nolan clapped his hands, drawing everyone's attention. "There's nothing to consider. Do you all remember Slytherin's code? 'Win at all costs.' We need Eve to prove she's got what it takes to join the team. And if she does, what does anything else matter? Criticism? Slytherins are used to that. Or would you rather let victory slip away because of your own stubbornness?"
Marcus suddenly bellowed, "Nolan's right! Guys, as captain, I'm not about to let talent go to waste! Eve, are you willing to undergo my evaluation?"
Eve clutched her robes tightly, her voice sharp with excitement as she exclaimed, "I'm willing!"
"Good. But be warned—this evaluation might be tough."
"I'm in too!" Eve's eyes were a little red, her usual tearful self. "I want to do something—anything, really. I just want to be useful…"
Thus, the next day, Nolan, unusually, neither stayed in his dorm playing games nor sought private tutoring sessions with a professor. Instead, he joined about twenty Quidditch players on the field. The Slytherin team, dressed in their green robes with silver trim and holding their broomsticks, stood ready.
In front of them, first-years Miles, Montague, Eve, and Nolan stood in a line.
Nolan glanced at his companions, then looked bewildered. "Why am I being tested too? I don't recall agreeing to join the team."
Captain Marcus Flint waved him off. "Come on, Nolan. Don't let any chance at victory slip away—those are your words, aren't they? If you can lead us to victory, why wouldn't I want you on the team?"
"But I didn't agree… Riding broomsticks is ridiculous," Nolan muttered.
Marcus scratched his head, trying to think of a way to convince Nolan to stay. He wasn't exactly the sharpest tool in the shed. Then the vice-captain whispered something in his ear, and Marcus's face lit up. "Hey, Nolan, I think you should stick around. Eve would certainly want you here, wouldn't you, Eve?"
"Me?" Eve was caught off guard, then nodded reflexively. "I want to play Quidditch with Nolan!"
Reluctantly, Nolan frowned. "Fine… If you insist, I'll be a reserve. But don't expect me to spend all day riding a broomstick—it's absurd."
The tests began with Marcus and the starting team explaining the rules of Quidditch to the younger students.
Nolan seemed particularly intrigued by the Bludger and asked repeatedly, "Why does it deliberately target players? What sort of enchantment did they put on it?"
Marcus, growing impatient, replied, "If you're so curious, buy your own Quidditch set and take apart the Bludger to see what's inside. But the point isn't why it targets players—it's how we block it. Hey, Rockman, give it a go."
Montague easily passed the test for Beaters.
Miles, however, showed less natural talent. His flying was subpar, and his reflexes weren't the quickest. But Marcus reassured him that those flaws could be worked on. "Your height's an advantage," he said. "Your wingspan will grow wider, which is great for a Keeper."
Finally, it was time for Eve and Nolan's test as Chasers.
"Speed is everything for a Chaser!" Marcus explained. "You might not have the build to knock opponents out of the way or the agility to outmaneuver them, but with speed, you can leave everyone in the dust and score directly. Hey! Just like Eve is doing right now! Incredible—how is she this fast?"
Eve's flying was indeed astonishing. Her silver hair, tied into a ponytail, streaked through the air like a silver lightning bolt.
Marcus, thrilled, directed the starters, "Block Eve! Use everything you've got! Let's see where her limits are!"
The three starting Chasers set up barriers for Eve, but her speed was unmatched. She ascended and dived, her movements swift and unpredictable. None of the starters could keep up with her. She bypassed one, then another, then a third, before closing in on the Keeper.
"Stop her! Stop her!" Marcus shouted, brimming with excitement.
But Eve was unstoppable. She squeezed her legs tightly against her broom, and with a flick of the broom's tail, she struck the Quaffle. The ball shot through the air, bypassing the Keeper's defense, and slammed into the goal hoop's sweet spot with a satisfying clang.
Goal!
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