Chapter 48: Godfather?
Once November arrived, the weather at Hogwarts suddenly became very cold. Autumn had passed almost without a trace, as if the late summer of the school's opening had suddenly slipped away, bringing them to the brink of a winter where snow could be seen.
Life for the students of Hogwarts was getting harder and harder.
Because of the Halloween feast incident, the professors had become visibly stricter. Homework essays that were one or two feet long tormented the struggling students who were already performing poorly, making them feel utterly humiliated. They had finally come to realize the fact that they were idiots; writing essays was like torture.
The Hogwarts library saw an unprecedented peak in traffic, which greatly annoyed Madam Pince. She had to frequently deal with those who flipped through books loudly and did not abide by the library's rules. This put her in a very bad mood for twenty-five hours out of a twenty-four-hour day, to the point that even Ezio, the quiet, sensible, and knowledge-respecting good boy in her mind, had become a little less lovable.
But as the instigator, Ezio continued to do as he pleased. Especially after he single-handedly defeated seven or eight high-risk seventh-year repeat students, who were mentally unstable from the heavy workload, in the corridor outside the library. Those who held a grudge against him had no choice but to give up the idea of ambushing him with a burlap sack.
The few who had used dark curses in a group ambush had their wands broken and were left hanging upside down from the ceiling of a lavatory. An excited Peeves had dived in with a ladle of dragon dung borrowed from the Herbology greenhouse. The sounds of vomiting and agonized screams had lasted for an entire afternoon. No one dared to interfere. They were eventually treated in the Hogwarts hospital wing, and it was said that they had even drunk a memory potion made from Swooping Evil venom to make them forget the memory of that day.
As for Ezio, he extricated himself with the reasonable excuse of "I was just acting in self-defense; what happened afterwards was Peeves's own doing." Snape had symbolically deducted five points, and the matter was lightly passed over.
However, the library incident was soon forgotten by people, because after entering November, a new round of the Quidditch season was about to begin. After several weeks of training, the new members of each team were ready to play. Harry had a very high passion for Quidditch. His performance in flying class was exceptional. Madam Hooch, who was always strict with the young wizards, was full of praise for him and had publicly stated that Harry would definitely be able to become a new pillar of the Slytherin team when he entered his second year.
The only one who expressed dissatisfaction with this was probably Snape. Harry's talent on a flying broomstick annoyed him a little, probably because James Potter had also been very talented in Quidditch. It made him see the shadow of that damned man in Harry. Perhaps on some nights, Snape even had wonderful dreams of Harry being a Harriet. He probably woke up smiling on those mornings.
"Ezio, want to go see the Quidditch match? It's Slytherin versus Gryffindor today. I feel like it will be really exciting." Holding a copy of 'Quidditch Through the Ages', Harry said with great enthusiasm, "I'm definitely going to buy the newest and coolest broom at the start of next year. I can't wait to fly into the sky."
"You could just go ride Buckbeak," Ezio said without looking up, still focused on the Potions notes in his hand. These were Snape's notes. He had already read them no less than three times, but he still couldn't fully keep up with Snape's genius way of thinking. It was too unconventional, too groundbreaking. It was very difficult to learn, but very interesting.
"That's a different feeling." Harry had already ridden Buckbeak several times. To be honest, not even the latest Nimbus 2000 could keep up with Buckbeak's speed. Although the Hippogriff was indeed average in terms of flight agility, in terms of acceleration and top speed, the current flying brooms, with a maximum speed of only one hundred and sixty kilometers per hour, were simply not in the same league.
"It's the feeling of freedom. When I'm on a broomstick, it's like I'm embracing the sky!" Harry gestured exaggeratedly with his hands.
"If you really want to ride, I'll just give you my broom. I bought two anyway. I can just give you the spare one." Ezio, who was not short on money, always bought two of everything he needed. Just like with wands, he liked to be prepared.
"Aren't first-years not allowed to bring their own brooms?"
"I'm going to start skipping grades next year. Why are you telling me this?" Ezio raised his eyelids. He had already discussed it with the professors. Next academic year, he wouldn't be in the second year but would jump straight to the fourth. His practical skills were more than sufficient, but his learning of basic theory still needed some polishing. After finishing the fourth-year curriculum and solidifying his theoretical foundation, Ezio could then take the fifth-year O.W.L.s.
"Then we won't be in the same dormitory anymore?" Harry was a little surprised, and also a little envious. He couldn't achieve Ezio's super-efficient learning. On one hand, his brain wasn't as good as his. On the other hand, he couldn't handle Ezio's 20-hour-a-day, more-ascetic-than-an-ascetic-monk high-intensity study schedule.
"The dormitory won't change, but the classrooms will." Ezio put down the notes and carefully put them away. "Do you want the broom or not?"
"I kind of want it..." Harry hesitated for a moment. "But I think I'll wait until next year. I'm not in a hurry to play with it. Professor Snape seems to have some objections to me wanting to join the Quidditch team. Probably doesn't want me to get distracted from my studies."
"I didn't expect you and Snape to have such a good relationship now. Have you called him 'godfather' yet? I dare say, if you just call him that, he'll immediately buy you a broom, personally get you on the school team, and then have others carry you around shouting, 'Welcome the new King of Slytherin to the throne!'"
Harry rolled his eyes. "You don't have to lie to a kid like that. And I'm not a three-year-old toddler."
"Right, right, you're an eleven-and-a-half-year-old toddler," Ezio said perfunctorily. "Actually, the reason Snape is like this is because of your old man. Your old man was an outstanding Quidditch player, so when he sees that you have a talent for it, he's not very happy. If you don't coax him a little, you can forget about joining the team next term."
"Huh?" The expression on Harry's face went blank.
"Didn't I tell you about this before?"
"Did... you?" Harry scratched his head. He couldn't quite remember. His impression of his mother was very deep, but perhaps because his father hadn't appeared in his memory fragments, or perhaps because he had learned about his parents' past and understood that his old man had been a bit of a troublemaker who liked to bully people at Hogwarts, as a good boy, Harry had subconsciously distanced himself from him.
"There should be old Quidditch trophies and stuff in the Trophy Room. Want to go take a look?"
"I thought all you did was read and practice magic," Harry grumbled. "Even the dullest bookworm in Ravenclaw isn't as diligent as you."
"Are you referring to Hermione? She'll be angry and bite you if she hears that."
"I didn't say who," Harry denied quickly.
Ezio laughed. "At least I visit Hagrid every now and then. I know the principle of balancing work and rest. If you don't relax occasionally, you'll easily lose your hair."
"Then let's go take a look!"
*****
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