A Professor of Magic at Hogwarts
Chapter 625: Quidditch Selection - (2)

Ron wore a grim expression; his essay remained untouched, and worse still—he wasn't sure if he met the standards. During breakfast, Hermione advised him to abandon any hopes of luck, saying, "Unless the professor focuses solely on you in the next class, giving you dozens of chances, but that's simply impossible!"

Success rate, indeed, troubled all the students enrolled in Ancient Runes.

Clearly, the professor surpassed the cunning levels of the young wizards' imagination. He certainly wouldn't give anyone dozens of chances; it was unrealistic with so many students in the class. Even Ron couldn't think of a reason for the professor to agree. However, no student could achieve a hundred percent success at the moment. Neville had given up early, acquiring the professor's assigned reading list from Hermione and laboriously reading through hefty volumes.

Influenced by their dorm-mate Neville, Seamus and Dean reluctantly read a few dozen pages with surprisingly hypnotic effects.

So, when Ron's gaze shifted away from the chaotic Quidditch field—Harry, as the captain, was busy—seeing Luna's fingertips dancing with a few runic symbols nearly dropped his jaw.

"How did you do that?" Ron swallowed and asked, observing clearly that Luna wasn't holding a wand.

"What are you talking about?" Luna said cheerfully. She enjoyed both noise and quiet, so when half of Gryffindor and a portion of students from other houses gathered around, including her good friend Ginny participating in the selection with her vivid red hair shining on the field, she appeared here without any surprise.

Ron pointed at the magical symbols on Luna's hand, eyes widened.

"You make friends with them," Luna said, "each of them has its own personality. Some I'm not very familiar with, quite quirky... but overall, they are quite easy to get along with."

"Can you tell me more?" Ron listened with confusion, but felt that Luna's insights were refreshing. Perhaps he could incorporate Luna's words into his essay?

Luna went into more detail, seeing every runic symbol with its personality and emotions. She could even tell stories about some magical symbols, finding corresponding characters for them. "I think this one resembles Harry," she said.

Ron stared at the purple runic symbol Luna pointed at, then looked at Harry, who had been shouting himself hoarse on the field. He couldn't imagine any similarities between the two. Was it because the chaotic halo and Harry's hair were similar, or did the symbol's tip also have a flat lightning shape?

Even more confusing for him was that he didn't understand why, in Luna's eyes, he was associated with that ugly, dull yellow symbol.

"I think it looks like you. Both of your colors are dirty yellow," Ron retorted, feeling insulted.

"It seems you've found the key." Luna said, then turned her head to the field.

Ron boringly watched the pitch. He didn't understand how Luna turned Ancient Runes into something like Divination, but Professor Hagrid was entirely different from Professor Trelawney. If he dared to submit an assignment with an attitude similar to fooling Trelawney, Professor Hagrid would surely confine him until Christmas.

...

Harry jealously watched Ron and Katie Bell enjoying themselves in the stands; he felt the selection was a disaster. Since there was no age restriction, many first and second-year students had signed up, occupying the majority of slots. Not to mention comparing them to professional players, even getting them to ride brooms at seventy percent speed was a challenge, as evidenced by a chaser who, due to nervousness, threw himself into the goalpost, causing the audience to burst into laughter.

That wasn't all; the embarrassed boy, perhaps due to shame, flew away on his old Comet broom, seemingly intending to hide in the castle. Harry had to catch up and retrieve the broom, but he still couldn't help letting the teary-eyed boy go.

When Harry returned to the pitch, feeling like he was in that boy's shoes, half of the spectators pointed and laughed, thoroughly enjoying themselves.

Harry was relieved Hermione hadn't come; he had mostly rejected her advice, claiming she didn't understand Quidditch. This seemed to bruise Hermione's pride, so when she arrived, the selection was nearing its end. Finally, Harry took the new players for a lap around the pitch, and the students in the stands clapped politely.

"So, the selection process went smoothly?" Hermione asked cautiously as they dismounted.

"The results are satisfying," Harry insisted, deciding that if Hermione inquired about specific details, he would refuse her questions, citing the inability to disclose team secrets. However, Hermione just glanced at the departing audience, raised her eyebrows, and remained noncommittal.

"It's like watching a fantastic comedy," Luna happily commented.

Hermione and Ginny simultaneously bent over laughing. Ron didn't laugh, making Harry marvel at the strength of their friendship.

"Let's go. When I came, I saw smoke rising from Hagrid's hut." Hermione stood up, saying solemnly.

Harry pretended not to notice the tears in her eyes.

Luna pulled Ginny away mysteriously, leaving the three remaining to change direction, heading towards Hagrid's hut, intending to mend a friendship on the verge of breaking. Ron predicted pessimistically that Hagrid would make them face Grawp at the entrance, carrying a big stick. They would have to go through hardships to see the sulking Hagrid.

As they approached the small cabin, they heard loud sniffing sounds. The three cautiously exchanged glances.

"Oh, goodness," Hermione said sadly, thinking Hagrid was crying.

Even Harry and Ron thought the same. It couldn't be a cold, right? They approached anxiously, pondering how to comfort Hagrid. They almost didn't consider any other possibilities, so when Harry nervously knocked on the door, hearing a second person's voice inside surprised them.

"Yes, those heartless little ones... Potter has never written to me proactively, not a single letter. I even gave him precious Foe-Glass!" Professor Slughorn absentmindedly said, "Hagrid, can I attend its funeral? I've never been in close contact with an Acromantula with eight eyes..."

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