Hogwarts Study Panel.

Chapter 207: Mediocrity

The sky in the distance was a hazy gray. The black cat's footsteps on the snow formed a lively patch of ink.

His stamina was slowly recovering, while the shouts from the Quidditch pitch on the other side were gradually increasing.

"Let me tell you, we're definitely going to win the Quidditch Cup this year!"

This is Wood shouting.

"This year, our team will definitely achieve great success! We will overcome all obstacles!"

His words boosted the morale of the entire Gryffindor Quidditch team.

The Ravenclaw Quidditch players remained silent, only giving them cold glances, before Roger said:

"Let's wait and see."

But once off the court, Roger couldn't hold back:

"They've been provoking us, and all we have to do is take down these arrogant bastards! Get the batters the stiffest clubs they can get!"

We'll win the game and smash a few heads!

He seems to be a big fan of the Falmouth Falcons, since that's their motto.

Inside the Quidditch pitch, Wood appeared to be issuing a challenge, but in reality, he was keeping a close eye on Ravenclaw's dressing room.

"I didn't use any connections—"

Fred burst out of the locker room.

"No extra person was added to the final training session, and it looks like there won't be any more for the competition either—"

George took over the conversation.

"We've crushed Slytherin, and with Snape's favoritism, we've defeated Hufflepuff. Nothing can stop us now!"

Ravenclaw lost their strong outside player, while we were the best—the greatest—team in the whole school.

As he spoke, he slammed one fist into the other hand, his eyes flashing with the wild light he used to have.

"We have three of the best chasers."

Wood pointed to Aria Spinnett, Angelina Jensen, and Katie Bell.

"We have two invincible batters."

"Hold on, Oliver, what you're saying makes us feel a little embarrassed."

Fred and George Weasley said in unison, pretending to blush.

"We also have a Seeker who has never lost a game!"

Wood continued, glaring at Harry with a fierce and proud look.

"And me too."

He added a sentence as if he only remembered it later.

"We think you're great too, Oliver."

George said.

"A fantastic goalkeeper."

Fred said.

"Crush them!"

Wood concluded.

Professor McGonagall listened to this exciting declaration from not far from the Quidditch pitch, her eyes almost overflowing with enthusiasm.

But instead of going onto the court as usual, she took advantage of the fact that Sheehan had just learned to use the small stone pegs to correct some minor mistakes and explain some more efficient techniques.

Sheen entered the Transfiguration office in his black cat form, and he came out in the same way.

Just as he didn't understand why a cat's body was so flexible, he also didn't understand why Professor McGonagall was so passionate about Quidditch.

Isn't that strange?

Just then, a barn owl flew in through the stained-glass window, landed on Sheehan's shoulder, and dropped down a lot of letters.

Sheen knew whose letter it was as soon as he saw the large owl.

Dear Green:

If you have time to see this letter, please let me know if you have properly stored your house key.

Wow, it looks like it's Hogwarts Quidditch season again. Is Minerva still sitting in the North Stand?

It's a request, you have to tell me something, otherwise how can old Marcus get in touch with your life?

Love you, Marcus

Sheen gently unfolded the letter, and then began to dart the quill pen over it.

The auditorium was filled with the noisy flapping of owls. A portion of that noise belonged to Sheen.

After he finished writing that letter, the rest of the letters came flooding in, three small squares of text piled high with words.

The letter contained several crystal-clear glass marbles, a few dazzling candy wrappers, and a commission form.

We offer you all our treasure, dear wizard Grimm. Can you come back soon? We've been waiting so long for you.

The last sentence was even misspelled.

So Sheehan sent some cookies, and to everyone's surprise, Marcus's owl arrived quickly, bringing a reply that very evening.

Regarding your question about Quidditch, I'd be happy to discuss it with you.

This is a story from a long time ago.

Isabel, our mother, was a highly talented wizard and a former outstanding Quidditch player at Hogwarts.

She fell in love with our father, Robert, a man without magic, and willingly gave up the magical world for love.

Their love was so sincere and passionate, but wizards living in the Muggle world would not have a good life.

Especially when all three of us siblings showed magical talent.

By this point in the letter, Sheen had a general understanding of the situation, and he continued reading.

This is a long letter describing a deliberately forgotten past:

We cannot reveal even the slightest bit about our magical abilities.

Minerva was very close to our father, and her temperament was very similar to his.

She also felt pain when she saw her father struggling with the family's unusual situation.

Furthermore, she could sense how stressed our mother was trying to adapt to life in the Muggle village, how much she missed the freedom of being with her fellow magicians, and how much she longed to freely unleash her magical talents once again.

She once told us that she would never forget how many times her mother cried when she received her Hogwarts acceptance letter on her eleventh birthday; she knew that Isabel's tears were not only due to pride, but also mixed with envy.

So when she later fell in love with someone who didn't possess magic, she chose to leave without saying a word.

The day after he proposed to her.

Because of the International Law on Secrecy, she couldn't even tell him why she left, leaving him heartbroken.

Later... he died in the riots caused by Voldemort.

Upon reading this, Sheen was completely stunned.

He seemed to understand something, to understand why Professor McGonagall was always strict and never yielded.

You ask me why Minerva loves Quidditch so much, and all I can tell you is:

Quidditch is a link; when the talent she inherited from her mother manifested, perhaps both of them touched upon the extraordinary aspects of magic.

She and her mother were both excellent athletes; perhaps that's some consolation?

Even in the evening, the Quidditch pitch remains bustling as the Ravenclaw Quidditch team continues their training without pause.

Professor McGonagall gazed out the window; from her Transfiguration office, she could always see the Quidditch pitch.

She inherited little from childhood except for a furious rage against a mundane life and a determination not to be forgotten.

(End of this chapter)