Chapter 273

Harry spent two days asking various girls and finally figured out how to make himself less recognizable.

He combined an invisibility charm for his glasses, a concealing spell for his forehead, and a highlight spell for his nose into his makeup spell. And, according to Luna, many people relied heavily on the fact that Harry was always accompanied by a red-haired Weasley giant, so Ron had to learn a hair-dyeing charm and went out with his hair dyed a dull brown.

Early Friday morning, Harry noticed that Hufflepuff students were gradually beginning to wander around seeking people out. After careful inquiry, he learned that Arnold had assigned Hufflepuff students the task of hugging at least ten friends from other houses and briefly describing what their essays were about.

Clearly, their silence in the previous days was because they assumed others hadn't finished their essays yet. By Friday, some Hufflepuff students who believed in the virtue of early action had begun moving, and as expected, come Saturday and Sunday, they would swarm en masse.

Disguised, Harry and Ron sat quietly at the corner of the Gryffindor table eating, repeatedly emphasizing to any Hufflepuff students who approached: "We haven't seen Harry Potter. We're looking for him too."

They maintained their disguises through a full day of classes, then, as planned, prepared to attend the Quidditch tryouts. Before heading to the pitch, Harry and Ron found a secluded, empty spot and changed back into their true appearances.

"Oh, you two." Angelina met them at the pitch entrance, "I don't know how to say this, but Ron, you're exempt from the tryout."

"What do you mean?" Ron asked, startled. "After word got out that you were considering trying out as keeper, everyone else dropped out. I don't even know how to describe it." Angelina scratched her head, "It sounds like there's some kind of pre-determined, fixed feeling—telling them this might make some people unhappy again."

Angelina spoke somewhat incoherently, but Harry understood enough—he suspected this had something to do with his growing reputation.

It was tricky. If he insisted on a fair trial to show Ron hadn't received special treatment, unless Ron failed, people would still resent it—or worse, think they were putting on a show, disgusting them. But if he demanded Ron give up the sweat and hope he'd already invested, just to appear fair, Harry thought that was equally inappropriate.

Now, perhaps the only option was to let things stand as they were: let Ron join the team directly, then help him achieve the best results possible.

Harry didn't tell Ron his plan—he felt Ron was already under too much pressure.

"Anyway, come with us to change clothes," Angelina said. "We're turning the tryout into a full training session."

As they entered the locker room, George winked at him: "Well? Ready to show us what you've got?"

"I'll do my best," Ron mumbled, his face flushed as he pulled on Wood's team robe.

"Let's get started," Angelina said. "Alicia and Fred, help me carry the boxes out." "Oh… there might be a few people outside. Well, more than a few."

Harry had already guessed. Sure enough, when they left the locker room and stepped onto the pitch, a sudden roar of screams and cheers erupted—some Hufflepuff students held enormous banners reading, "Welcome Back, Harry Potter, to His Faithful Quidditch Pitch." Normally, such gestures would come from Gryffindor students themselves, but they were all busy with quills in hand, eager to record details from Harry's Quidditch performance for their essays.

Harry followed behind Ron and noticed Ron's ears were also bright red.

"Alright, let's start with a few passes," Angelina said. "Don't be nervous, Ron. Fred says you did great at home."

Harry mounted his broom and rose into the air, then flew to the opposite end of the pitch as Angelina instructed. They began passing the Quaffle; Ron looked extremely tense, yet he still caught every throw with surprising ease and precision.

But when Ron prepared to pass to Katie, perhaps too nervous, he threw too hard—the Quaffle slammed squarely into her face.

"Sorry!" Ron panicked, zooming over instantly to check on Katie's injury.

"Perfect—that's exactly what a keeper should do," Angelina called out loudly. "But when you launch the Quaffle with force, try to make sure it's not aimed at your own teammate."

George and Fred moved toward Katie and handed her a small purple object. She swallowed it, and the bleeding stopped almost immediately.

"Alright, let's begin," Angelina said. "Harry, you can release the Snitch."

When they returned to the air, Angelina blew her whistle, and the entire team slipped into normal training mode. After releasing the Snitch, Harry observed the others: Fred and George chasing and swatting the Bludger; Angelina, Alicia, and Katie passing the Quaffle, looking for openings to attack Ron's goal.

In truth, Ron wasn't doing badly. His hand-eye coordination had been superbly honed through sword training, and his physical fitness and reflexes far surpassed those of his peers. More importantly, swordsmanship and combat had instilled in him a rudimentary combat instinct—he anticipated several of their aimed shots and intercepted the Quaffle before it reached the goal.

Moreover, Ron's throws reached an astonishing speed, like cannonballs. Harry believed this far exceeded human capability and could only be explained by Donald's theory: "magic tightly bound to muscle."

When Angelina attempted to catch Ron's pass and nearly tumbled head over heels, though she looked disheveled, her face betrayed unmistakable delight. Harry knew why: although Wood was a tactical genius, his goalkeeping was merely average. Ron's aggressive, powerful throws would greatly enhance and elevate the entire Gryffindor team's performance.

After a brief moment of distraction, Harry began searching for and chasing the tiny Golden Snitch. Having not played a proper match in a long time, he realized his speed and technique had dulled. But beneath the warm autumn breeze, the distant stands buzzed with noise, and Harry felt that feeling return—he darted nimbly between Chasers, his speed increasing, gradually recalling various flight techniques, no longer fixated on the Snitch's position, but freely soaring through the sky.

When Harry snapped back to reality, Angelina judged the time sufficient and called for the training to end.

"Ron has gradually learned to control his strength—that's an impressive improvement," she remarked. "But his opening throws were a delightful surprise. What truly pleases me is his solid fundamentals and his ability to pick up techniques on his own."

Ron sheepishly scratched his head.

"I believe Ron will become a better keeper than Wood," Angelina said, sighing. "But perhaps I won't become a better captain than Wood."

"It's fine," Harry said. "Right now, the team might already perform excellently just on individual ability."

Angelina offered a faint, strained smile. Harry suddenly remembered that, by his usual standard, he should have caught three or four Snitches during a single training session. But in reality, he'd been distracted watching Ron, lost in testing flight techniques, and had caught only one Snitch the entire time.

Back in the dormitory, Ron's expression wasn't bad, but it wasn't ecstatic either. They sat down, removed their disguises, and Ron sighed quietly: "I didn't mess up, did I?"

"Of course not. I thought you did brilliantly," Harry said.

"Hmm, I hope so," Ron sighed, searching for his homework. "Just don't let them think you're embarrassed by me."

"Why would you think that?" Harry blinked.

"You know," Ron shrugged, "people sometimes boast about the Savior's sidekicks. I know I'm not smart—that's fine. But at least I can't fail in physical ability. I mean, that's how everyone sees me, right? You get it?"

"Yes, that's called a persona," Harry said. "Good news: your persona held. Remember the Mirror of Erised? You'll become a great keeper."

"But that only showed my deepest desire," Ron leaned back in his chair, his expression complex. "I didn't become a prefect, did I?"

"I didn't realize you cared about that, Ron," Harry said seriously. "In fact, I think you fully deserved the prefect position—only because of me, Snape decided not to give it to you."

"I can feel the Ministry is setting something up. Even if it's not aimed at me, we've all been affected to some degree," Harry turned to face Ron. "Receiving too much praise at our age—praise that doesn't match our actual abilities—isn't a good thing. Snape must have seen that, which is why he appointed Neville as prefect."

"I think things are fine now. Though you lost the prefect position because of me, you gained the position of team keeper. And I believe the latter better reflects your true abilities," Harry concluded, nodding slightly, then gazing sincerely at Ron.

"You're amazing, Harry," Ron sniffed, smiling and nodding, then picking up his quill again. "... he public's praise and admiration have not caused this young prodigy wizard to become conceited. Instead, Harry Potter has cultivated exceptional observational skills, warmth, and leadership in this environment..."

"Alright, I've got nothing to say," Harry turned his back. "Don't even think about copying the Giant War essay."