A magical journey that begins in Azkaban.

Chapter 500 Lionheart Shield
For several days, Roger was polishing the handle of his alder wand. He was like a craftsman who kept striving for perfection, and every stroke of the sandpaper was a pursuit of perfection.

When this delicate component is put on the magic wand, a qualitative leap in the grip feeling breaks out in the palm lines. When waving, the magic wand is as smooth as flowing water, and every trajectory is perfect.

This incomparable refreshing feeling is like swallowing a lump of ice on a hot summer day, or like enjoying chocolate that melts in your mouth.

He tied the retractable magic cord and gently pulled his ring finger. In an instant, the wand jumped from the belt to the palm of his hand, the whole process was so fast that it was almost imperceptible.

In a duel between ordinary wizards, this tiny saving might not matter, but when facing a dueling champion like Professor Flitwick, victory or defeat could be decided in a split second.

It's like a cowboy duel in the wild west, only the one who draws his gun the fastest can survive. The more skilled you are, the more you pay attention to every detail.

In the activity room of the Jackdaw Magic Society, Roger erected a human-shaped target and began to familiarize himself with the new wand attachment. At first, the wand seemed a little stubborn and unwilling to fall into his palm obediently.

Roger had to lift his index finger slightly and gently guide it back to the correct position. As time went on, each pull became more precise. He could close his eyes and grasp the landing point of the wand in the instant of flicking his ring finger.

boom! boom! boom!
Beams of light hit the target accurately, and dull sounds echoed in the room. His arms drew dazzling trajectories in the air, and he cast various complex spells at will.

Finally, with a "click" of relief, the overwhelmed target finally ended its miserable fate. Then, a whisper of "repair as before" sounded. The scattered fragments were like soldiers obeying orders, regrouping into a complete target and enduring the ravages of the curse again.

"Is your grip ready?" Susan from Hufflepuff came in with a pile of books, and looked at the wand in Roger's hand that suddenly disappeared and reappeared in surprise.

"How did you do that?" she asked curiously, her eyes doubled by the wands that appeared back and forth. "My retractable magic thread can only pull the wand into my hand, but yours seems to be given life."

As Susan spoke, she pulled out her wand from her robe. The end of the wand was temporarily wrapped in parchment as a handle, and an invisible magic line was tied to it. With a slight pull of her ring finger, the wand flew from her waist into her hand.

"You see, it's always not very obedient, even slower than before." Susan complained softly, her brows slightly furrowed, "Sometimes I really wonder if this magic thread has been cursed by someone."

"I used two magic threads, one responsible for extension and retraction, so that the wand can return to the belt." Rogge walked over with a smile and showed her the second magic thread.

He looked at Susan's wand carefully and gently pointed out: "Your magic line is tied too low, and the position of the wand is not right. Come, I will teach you."

Susan quickly ran to Roger's side, her eyes closely following his every move, comparing the differences between them.

Soon, she found that her wand was inserted vertically at the side, while Rogge's was inserted diagonally at the back. Obviously, Rogge's placement was more suitable for magic line pulling.

"First, you need to straighten the magic thread. There must be no tangles." Roger's fingers gently lifted Susan's wrist, allowing the magic wand to rotate freely in the air until it stopped.

Then, he motioned for Susan to unbutton her robe and insert her wand into the back of her belt. Susan looked at Roger, who was so close to her, and felt the warmth of his breath. Her slightly chubby cheeks instantly turned abnormally red.

Roger was completely unaware of the change in her expression, concentrating on explaining how to properly organize the magic thread.

"You should fix the position of the wand first." Roger's tone was gentle and focused. He gently untied the magic thread on Susan's ring finger, and then passed it back through the sleeve of her school robe.

"Normally, you should tie the magic thread on your fingers before putting on the outermost robe. This way, you can avoid clogging and spinning. Now, try it again."

Susan lowered her head and said "hmm" softly, but she was obviously absent-minded and had completely forgotten what to do next.

"...Ms. Burns? Miss Burns?" Roger shook her shoulders gently, trying to wake her up from her drowsy state.

"Oh, sorry..." Susan's cheeks flushed and she apologized awkwardly, wishing she could crawl into the crack in the ground immediately and disappear in front of Roger.

Roger smiled and said gently, "Try it." His voice was like a ray of warm sunshine, dissolving Susan's embarrassment.

Susan nodded quickly, and with a slight pull of her right ring finger, the wand slid down the robe and sleeves and flew into her palm. Although the position where it appeared was not suitable for direct grasping, it was a huge improvement compared to the previous spinning situation.

"The deviation is a bit large." Roger thought for a moment, then suggested, "It may be because your hands are relatively small. Try using your middle finger or index finger."

After trying several times, Susan's wand still couldn't return to the correct position. She lowered her head, with frustration flashing in her eyes, and asked softly: "Rogge, am I too stupid?"

"How can you say you're stupid?" Roger shook his head and encouraged in a firm voice: "It may be a problem with the handle. After all, it is temporary. Or, let me hold your hand and try again?"

Susan agreed in a low voice, leaning forward slightly, letting Roger hold her wrists from behind. She could feel his body temperature through her school robe, which made her body tremble slightly.

At this moment, she could hear her heart beating wildly and feel the blush on her cheeks as hot as a branding iron.

"Pay attention, shake hands the moment you pull out the wand." As soon as he finished speaking, Roger gently flicked her middle finger. At the same time, his hand guided her arm to lift slightly outward.

At the moment when his arm stopped, the wand slid accurately into Susan's palm. She didn't react for a moment, but fortunately Roger grasped the timing accurately, wrapped her hand steadily, and ensured that the wand was not tilted.

"See, there's no problem now..." Roger also noticed that the atmosphere was a little wrong at this moment. The distance between them was a little too close, and Susan was almost completely stuck in his arms.

He quickly let go of her hand and tried to take a step back to ease the sudden embarrassment.

However, Susan did not retreat, but approached him more boldly. Her small hand gently hooked the corner of Roger's clothes, and her voice was low and a little shy: "Today is the day of Quidditch selection, they...they all went to the stadium."

There was anticipation in her eyes, and the whole room seemed to become warmer as she approached. Roger obviously did not expect that the girl from the Burns family would have such a bold side.

Before he could say anything, Susan stood on tiptoe and gently left a light red mark on his cheek.

"Thank you for your guidance, Roger." She whispered and closed her eyes slightly, as if waiting for a special moment.

"Ah, that's what I should do... I'm the president after all." Rogge rubbed his cheek, feeling a little helpless.

If he took a step further now, he believed that Susan would not refuse any of his requests. But he had always regarded her as a classmate and a springboard for communicating with Minister Amelia, so he was completely unprepared for her sudden move.

"You... Daphne and I..." Roger tried to clarify something, with a hint of hesitation in his voice.

"I've heard about it." Susan interrupted him. She raised her head and bravely stared into Roger's deep black eyes. "Many girls are speculating about the relationship between you, Daphne, and Hermione. Even...even including the French witch last year."

"But, but I really like you..." Her voice gradually became lower, and she felt nervous and expectant at the same time.

"Hahaha..." Before she could finish her confession, Draco's signature mocking voice came from outside the door. "Rog, you should go to the Quidditch field. Ron, that clown, actually wants to be a regular player. He's still a long way from it!"

Rogge breathed a sigh of relief, feeling as if he had been dragged out of the turbulent whirlpool. Fortunately, he had the fortitude to remain calm in the face of temptation.

Susan turned her head and looked at Malfoy awkwardly. She quickly picked up her book and hid in the corner of the room.

Draco talked eloquently, describing everything that happened on the field today in detail. When he spoke about Ron, he always had a clown-like joy, a sense of farce.

Since the secondary league and the World Cup are held every four years, the school team players return to their respective college teams after the league ends, which means that many people have a long and arduous career on the bench.

Fortunately, every year, seventh-year students graduate and leave the team, freeing up many spots for others. In addition, last year, the Triwizard Tournament was suspended, so the teams of the four colleges had more spots vacated.

After seeing the selection notice, Ron's desire to become a regular player was rekindled. He held the broom tightly and stood on the Quidditch field again.

Compared to two years ago, the Hogwarts Quidditch team has been completely transformed by the league, and its strength has been qualitatively improved. The current game not only tests speed and agility, but also requires the ability to withstand confrontation, and show a big picture and basketball IQ.

Ron's goal is the position of goalkeeper, which is an indispensable part of the team and even has a decisive significance. Whether he can stop a strong and cunning chaser like Draco will directly affect Gryffindor's performance in this year's competition.

Draco chuckled twice, his tone showing unconcealed contempt and disdain: "If Gryffindor lets Weasley be the goalkeeper, their goal will probably become wider than the sea."

"No matter how fast Harry Potter chases me, he can't stop me from scoring 150 points first..."

Hermione and Ariana heard Draco's big talk when they walked into the room. She couldn't help but retort: ​​"Draco, don't be happy too soon. We will never lose to Slytherin!"

"Vice President, the stadium is not an examination hall. It doesn't matter how much you read." He rolled up his sleeves, showing off his tanned forearms, and said, "See? This is the medal I got after the special training during the summer vacation."

"Once I graduate, I will join a professional team as a chaser. I'm Draco Malfoy, a semi-professional player. There's no way I can lose! Especially to Weasley." His tone was so firm and his evidence was so reliable that Hermione, who never gave up easily, couldn't refute it easily.

Seeing Hermione fall silent, he proudly sang a victory song: "We are the champions, the champions of the court..."

Hermione pouted in dissatisfaction and sat down next to Roger as usual. She spread out the parchment and prepared to start writing the homework assigned by the professor, but Draco's singing made it difficult for her to calm down.

"Malfoy, you're too noisy!" She couldn't help but draw out her wand and pretend to cast a spell.

Draco cheered and fled out of the room on his broomstick, leaving his tuneless singing lingering in the air.

"Damn it! If only I could master flying a broom!" Hermione complained, her tone full of helplessness towards Draco and her desire for Quidditch. "Then he wouldn't be so proud."

Roger smiled slightly and said teasingly, "Ms. Granger, your flying class is your worst subject."

"That was in the past!" Hermione replied unconvincedly, turning to glance at Ariana as if seeking support, "I'm taking extra lessons with her now, maybe Madam Hooch will let me take the test again."

"Anyway, it's better than your flying skills. At least I don't have to go out on a magic carpet."

There was more laughter in the room. Almost everyone in the school knew that Roger hated flying brooms. Hermione mocked him rudely while secretly writing on his thigh to communicate.

Since the start of school, she had to stay with Ariana almost every day, and she didn't even have a chance to chat with Roger alone.

Roger noticed Hermione's thoughts and couldn't help but curl his lips, thinking to himself: "Do you want to chat? You are just greedy for my body!"

He had just defeated Susan's challenge, and now he was faced with Hermione's complaints. Alas, being a man is difficult, and being a calm man is even more difficult.

He quickly took a big gulp of ice water, squeezed Hermione, and then buried his head in the rest of his homework as if nothing had happened.

As time passed, members of the Jackdaw Magic Society arrived one after another. Draco also came back, picked up his quill and concentrated on preparing for the OWLs exam.

This year, there are more second-year students applying to join the Magic Club. The turmoil in the outside world has more or less affected the atmosphere inside Hogwarts.

"Recently, Harry and his friends are also going to set up a club or something like that." Hermione stopped writing, pinched her sore palms, then looked around and whispered, "The most annoying thing is..."

She paused, obviously choosing the right words, "Neville gave their organization a name, something like Lionheart Shield. Humph, if I had known, I wouldn't have let him join the Jackdaw Magic Society."

Hermione complained and muttered, "He knows so much about our magic club, including the battle guide we made. Humph, he should have handed it back when he quit the club."

Roger listened quietly, staring at Hermione with a meaningful look until she felt a little embarrassed. Originally, it was you who instigated the formation.

Hermione stroked her bangs and whispered, "Stop looking at me like that."

There was a hint of shyness in her voice, and she was obviously a little uncomfortable with Roger's gaze.

"I overheard it in the common room. How about we lower the standards of the magic club?" she suggested quietly, not sounding entirely sure.

"No." Roger decisively refused and said firmly: "Our magic club is for mutual learning and communication, not fighting with them."

"Besides, there are so many organizations in school, such as the Gobstone Club, the Charm Club, the Duel Club... We have our own purpose, so we don't need to care so much about the activities of other clubs."

"By the way, you and Daphne are both important officials of the Charm Club."

Hermione's mood eased a little, but she still said with some dissatisfaction: "It's actually quite boring inside. It's just a group of witches getting together to compare clothes and accessories."

She was still worried about Neville, and felt uneasy at the thought that he might reveal the secrets of the magic club: "What if Neville reveals it? He knows everything, including the fact that we use the Acromantula and other tools to train spells..."

"We don't have any secrets." Roger shook his head, his voice calm and confident, "Even in the club's activity room, you can find some clues if you pay attention."

"Hermione, just like you won't tell others about the Charming Club, I believe Neville won't tell others about the Jackdaw Magic Society." His determined eyes were full of brilliance, making Hermione feel ashamed. "Believe in him, or believe in the character of Gryffindor."

(End of this chapter)