Harry returns from Hogwarts Legacy

Chapter 329 Gryffindor Girls Hit Hard

Rock-skin cake?
That thing...

Draco's teeth ache whenever he thinks about the texture of rock crust.

No, I can't handle even a little bit.

"Only someone with good teeth like Harry could manage a couple of bites," he thought to himself.

I hope Miss Salu is alright.

Since no one wanted to go, Harry didn't force them. So he left the Great Hall with Anne, Ron who was still struggling with his decision, and Hermione who was copying papers.

Inside Hagrid's hut, he was happily baking rock bread. When he saw Harry and the others arrive, he went over and gave each of them a hug.

“This is Anne,” Harry introduced to Hagrid. “Anne Saru, a Slytherin classmate and a good friend of mine.”

“Oh, hello, Anne.” Hagrid chuckled, rubbing his bushy beard. “It’s nice to meet you—you’re a transfer student this year, aren’t you? It’s strange, every transfer student seems to be good friends with Harry.”

Harry smiled inwardly, but didn't intend to tell Hagrid—not because he and Hagrid had a bad relationship, but because he knew that Hagrid was a natural Legilimency master who couldn't keep any secrets.

If anything gets to him, the whole of Hogwarts will know about it in three days.

“Hello, Hagrid,” Anne replied softly.

“I told Anne that your rock crust cakes are delicious,” Harry said, leading everyone to sit on the sofa. “She’s curious and wants to come and try them.”

"Oh! Rock-skin cakes!" Hagrid said happily. "I specially roasted some for you today to go with your tea. Wait a moment, I'll brew some tea first..."

Anyone would be happy to be praised, especially someone like Hagrid, for whom being praised for his cooking skills is definitely a happy thing.

I'm genuinely happy.

Hagrid busily retrieved a can of tea from under the coffee table and then a huge jar—the kind that was large even for Hagrid himself.

He precisely grabbed a handful of tea leaves from the jar, threw them into the vat, poured in some water, and placed it on the stove to start brewing the tea.

"It smells so good." Hermione sniffed.

“Authentic Ceylon tea,” Hagrid said happily. “You haven’t visited me in a long time, so of course I have to offer you some good tea…”

"It's probably not that simple, is it?" Hermione gave a knowing smile. "Where did this tea come from, Hagrid?"

“Oh.” Hagrid scratched the back of his head and smiled shyly. “It was given to me by Orim, haha…yes, the one you all call Mrs. Maxim.”

Ron whistled a playful tune.

"Looks like things are going well between you two?" he asked.

"Not bad, not bad." Hagrid stroked his beard, took the teacup off the stove, and poured some tea for everyone.

He then took out freshly baked rock-skin cakes and gave each person a large one.

Hagrid actually chewed this thing like a biscuit.

The problem is that Hagrid is just too tall. Like a bottle of mineral water turning into a miniature oral liquid in O'Neil's hands, what Hagrid sees as a biscuit is like a pizza to Harry and his friends, who are of normal height.

Anne held the huge rock-skin cake, unsure how to start eating it.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione didn't eat; instead, they stared intently at Anne, making her feel a little embarrassed.

After thinking for a long time, Annie decided to try taking a bite first.

So she opened her little mouth and took a bite of the rock-skin cake.

"Ouch……"

She covered her mouth and cried out in pain.

That last bite felt like biting into a rock.

"Hahahaha..." The three of them burst into laughter. Harry wiped away the tears from his laughter, took out his rock bread, broke it into small pieces with a spell, and soaked it in the milk that had been prepared beforehand.

“Like this,” he demonstrated, “you have to soak it in milk to eat it, that way it will soften—actually, you should try it, the softened rock cake is really delicious.”

After saying that, he conjured a fork with his wand, picked up the bowl, and took two bites.

Mmm, it still tastes the same...

"Haha." Hagrid scratched his head and laughed, "I always thought it was because people didn't like to eat it, but Harry invented this new way of eating it... Actually, you should know that I'm quite strong and have very good teeth..."

Anne covered her mouth, her eyes brimming with tears, and gently twisted Harry's body several times with her little hand.

It looks like she's being coquettish.

"Harry!" she said, a hint of reproach in her voice. "Why didn't you tell me sooner! How annoying..."

Ron glanced at Anne, then at Hermione.

He felt that Anne's two subtle expressions and movements were enough for a Gryffindor woman to study for a lifetime.

"Hahaha," Harry laughed, "I was just kidding... Okay, now that you know the right way to eat it, why don't you give it a try?"

"Oh." Annie angrily took the bowl of milk, soaked some rock cakes in it, and after tasting it, she felt it was indeed not bad.

"How are you?" Harry patted Anne's leg. "Not bad, right?"

"Mmm, it's delicious." Annie nodded vigorously.

“Oh, right, Harry,” Hagrid said suddenly, “I haven’t congratulated you on becoming a professor yet—it’s truly unbelievable that I’ll live to see a Hogwarts student become a professor—not after graduation, but before graduation. Isn’t that an unprecedented achievement?”

“There’s nothing I can do,” Harry sighed. “That pink toad just doesn’t have… well, it doesn’t have any teaching ability whatsoever.”

“Indeed.” Ron slurped up the soaked rock-skin cake and mumbled, “If she had any ability at all, she wouldn’t be completely powerless!”

Look at this nonsense literature...

“And what about you?” Hagrid turned to Ron. “I heard the Quidditch goalkeeper selection tournament is starting soon. Fred and George mentioned it to me yesterday when they passed by. What do you think? Are you confident?”

“Of course!” Ron wiped his mouth and said without hesitation.

After saying that, he suddenly lowered his head and nudged Harry with his elbow, looking embarrassed.

"Harry, Harry?"

"What's wrong?" Harry asked.

"My...that Felix Felicis?" Ron asked with a lewd grin.

"Felix Felicis?" Harry glanced at him, then pulled an empty vial from his pocket. "I just added it to your milk bowl!"

Ron's body trembled.

“No wonder!” Ron patted his chest. “No wonder I felt… I felt so full of energy from the very beginning, now I know why!” “Right?” Harry reached out and patted Ron’s shoulder. “Believe in yourself, brother. You’re good enough to be the Quidditch goalkeeper, and with Felix Felicis, I don’t think you’ll fail!”

“Absolutely!” Ron said excitedly.

They stayed in Hagrid's cabin until dinner time before reluctantly leaving.

Hermione had something to attend to and returned to the common room for the time being, while Ron sat next to Harry, with Dean Thomas beside him.

Dean seemed to be having a passionate conversation with the person next to him, and his spittle flying everywhere looked rather comical.

"What are you guys talking about?" Ron reached for a chicken leg.

“Oh, you’re talking about girls at Hogwarts,” Dean said, turning around. “I think if you’re going to choose a girlfriend, you should choose a Hufflepuff—Hufflepuff girls are so great, don’t you think?”

"Why do you say that?" Ron devoured a chicken leg in three bites.

“Look,” Dean said, “the girls in Hufflepuff are so innocent and lovely, don’t they deserve our affection?”

"Bullshit!" Seamus retorted immediately. "I think Ravenclaw girls are great—gentle, intelligent, and understanding. They'd be perfect girlfriends!"

“Slytherin girls are just as good,” Harry chimed in. “Don’t you think? Slytherin girls are so poised and elegant…”

Everyone looked at Harry with the same disdain they would show him as trash.

Damn it, who doesn't know you have two girlfriends who are from Slytherin? Both are incredibly beautiful...

“Indeed.” Seamus glanced at the Slytherin table, his gaze drifting to Daphne Greengrass: “Look at the Slytherin girls, they’re covered in all sorts of strange elements, and they’re even showing their thighs—and look at the Gryffindor girls, they’re completely covered up in a robe.”

"Don't Gryffindor girls have any redeeming qualities?" Neville asked, picking up a sandwich.

Just then, a vibrant Angelina walked by and casually punched George in the chest as he handed her the canary biscuit.

“Yes,” Ron said confidently. “You see, Gryffindor girls hit really hard…”

“Yes.” Harry scratched his chin. “You have to remember, Angelina will be your captain, and you… my poor brother, if you lose the ball in a game, your captain will whip you into a top.”

Ron imagined the scene, the sense of oppression...

“I suddenly don’t want to play for the Quidditch Academy team anymore,” he said, looking down with a sad expression.

“That won’t do.” Harry and Seamus each grabbed one of Ron’s arms. “You’ve already registered…”

"Ha, I was just kidding," Ron said with a chuckle. "I'm confident enough. It's just a Quidditch match, right? Watch me show my might! I'll make Fred and Georgina bow down in worship!"

"Don't think you can become a goalkeeper."

A rusty voice came from behind them. When they looked up, they saw a big guy with hair that looked like metal wires.

His expression was so smug and annoying—even more so than Draco was on the train back in first grade.

To put it simply, it's pretentious.

"Who are you?" Ron asked, frowning.

“Remember my name, Cormac McClagon!” McClagon held up one finger with an air of arrogance. “And you, Weasley, you could never be the goalkeeper for the Gryffindor Quidditch team!”

"Why?" Ron asked, squinting.

"Because I'll definitely be Gryffindor's goalkeeper!" McClagan laughed smugly and turned to leave.

“He’s quite the actor,” Simo said.

"Indeed, I'm a bit annoyed too," Dean said, looking indignant. "Who does he think he is, daring to come here and make pronouncements?"

However, Ron didn't take it seriously.

After all, he knew he had taken Felix Felicis and was unlikely to lose to this pretentious big guy who came from who-knows-where.

"Don't worry," Ron patted his chest and said, "The goalkeeper for Gryffindor can only be me, not this guy who popped up out of nowhere, McCraghan!"

"Great! Well done!" Dean and Neville clapped and said, "Ron! You're the first in our class to make it into the Gryffindor house team through the regular selection process! We can't let you down!"

“Yes, cheer up!” Simo encouraged earnestly.

Ron felt a surge of heroic spirit welling up inside him, and a desire to shout "Tom!" rose to his throat.

But he held back.

Just then, the owls arrived, swooping down through the open window and shedding some of their feathers.

After all, it is autumn, and it is time for birds to change their feathers to keep warm, and owls are no exception.

Most people received more emails than usual, with parents eager to hear news about their children—after all, everyone had heard the story of an incompetent professor named Umbridge at Hogwarts who was ousted by the fifth-year students.

Some students wrote lengthy letters to their parents about the incident, while others complained to their parents about their experiences in Defense Against the Dark Arts class and the grievances and pain they felt when they were confined by Umbridge.

Harry also received a letter, and Hedwig was clutching a thick stack of letters in her paws.

He glanced at them briefly; there were letters from Sirius Black, Vivi, Cassandra, and Papiyas…

However, the goalkeeper selection was coming up soon, so Harry decided to wait until he got back in the evening to watch.

After dinner, Hermione also appeared in the Great Hall.

Instead of sitting at the long table to eat, she hastily grabbed a sandwich and followed the rest of her classmates out of the Great Hall, intending to go to the Quidditch arena to watch the Gryffindor Quidditch Selection Tournament.

Nearly half of the Gryffindor students attended this selection competition.

Of course, there were also students from other houses, such as Luna from Ravenclaw and Draco from Slytherin.

Judging from Draco's expression, he's clearly up to something bad.

Luna was wearing a mascot costume with her head inside a lion's mouth, and she looked absolutely adorable.

The weather was fairly normal today, except for being a bit gloomy, but at least it didn't rain.

Angelina led the way, followed by Fred and George, who were carrying Quidditch balls.

"How many goals do you think we'll score against poor little Ronaldo in a bit?" Fred said with a chuckle.

“Don’t be silly, Fred.” George rolled his eyes. “We’re batters, we’re not responsible for making shots—I mean, we’re batters!”

George emphasized the word "beater" at the end.

Fred immediately understood what George meant.

The two looked at each other, then blinked and nodded together.

Yes, just do it!

(End of this chapter)