Jon Hart went on, "It's the same with the Beaters… With just a small wooden bat and no magic, trying to hit seven small targets flying at high speed across such a huge Quidditch Pitch is ridiculously hard."
"According to my statistics, the average number of times a Beater successfully hits an opponent with a Bludger in a match is only 4.3—and remember, each team has two Beaters!" Jon shook his head in resignation. "So, in most matches, the two Beaters can barely make a dent in the game."
"What about the Chasers?" Madam Hooch now looked at him expectantly.
"Compared to the other three positions, Chasers are relatively fair," Jon admitted after a pause. "But there's another problem I personally think is more subjective—the lack of entertainment value."
"From the matches I've watched, the pattern is usually the same: a Chaser grabs the Quaffle, flies full speed toward the opposing hoops, gets rammed by an opponent, loses possession, and then the sides swap roles."
"In my view, that style of play is a bit too brute-force and not very enjoyable to watch. That's why—apart from Gryffindor—the Chasers in the other three houses are all physically strong male students in fifth year or above."
After all, the wizarding world was small, culturally behind, and entertainment had hardly evolved at all. Quidditch, a sport riddled with flaws, had gone through centuries without any meaningful improvement.
By contrast, "Muggle" sports like football or basketball, with only about a century of history, had already seen their rules changed countless times.
"Mr. Hart!" Madam Hooch said seriously. "It's true that Quidditch, for all its long history, has plenty of problems… so I'm curious—do you have any suggestions?"
"You've hit the nail on the head!" Jon's expression sharpened. "I do have a few ideas—just rough suggestions, of course."
"For Keepers, I propose a protection zone of about twelve yards. Bludgers wouldn't be allowed into it to threaten the Keeper, and Chasers would be forbidden from entering it when shooting—they'd have to score from outside the zone. That way, Keepers wouldn't be so easily outpaced, and their role would become much more important."
"As for Beaters, I'd suggest giving them gloves in addition to bats. With gloves, they could catch a Bludger, fly closer to the target, and then strike it. That would make them far more dangerous."
"For Chasers, I think there should be a time limit for holding the Quaffle—say seven seconds, or even five—with some sort of timer indicator on the Quaffle. Holding the ball beyond the limit would be a foul. This would force more passing and teamwork instead of just tucking the ball in and charging blindly ahead."
Madam Hooch pulled out a quill and began taking careful notes.
"And the Seeker?" she asked softly.
"I suggest removing both the Seeker and the Golden Snitch," Jon said seriously.
A look of shock spread across Madam Hooch's face. "But… if we take away the Snitch and the Seeker, how will anyone know when the match ends?"
"Get a clock," Jon replied. "A fixed game length is much fairer than one that could last ten minutes or several hours. It would also make scheduling far easier for spectators."
"But the Golden Snitch is part of Quidditch's proud tradition—the original goal of the sport was to catch a Golden Snidget, the Snitch's predecessor," Madam Hooch protested.
"Then enchant the Snitch so it flies slowly around the pitch in a single circuit—one lap taking a fixed 60 or 90 minutes. When it reaches the end, the match is over. That way, the tradition stays intact." Jon suggested the idea on the spot.
"That makes sense!" Madam Hooch said, nodding enthusiastically.
She carefully put away the parchment filled with notes. "I'll speak to Professor Dumbledore for his opinion. Honestly, I've long thought Quidditch's rules could use some improvement."
"Thank you, Madam," Jon said, then hesitated. "But… I've always been a low-key person, so if these ideas ever do get implemented, could we keep my name out of it for now?"
"All right…" Madam Hooch gave him a surprised look. "If you insist."
Jon let out a quiet breath of relief.