After finding Wood, Professor McGonagall obviously couldn't suppress her emotions anymore. Finding an empty classroom, she gestured for Harry to enter first.
Inside was only Peeves, busy writing insults on the blackboard.
"Out, Peeves!" she roared.
Peeves threw the chalk into the trash with a clang, then cursed his way out of the classroom, still bowing respectfully to Harry as he passed.
Professor McGonagall then smiled at Harry in a friendly manner.
Perhaps she hadn't smiled in so long, and having just frightened Peeves, the rapid facial change made her expression a bit stiff.
She closed the door, turning to face Harry.
"Potter, there's something I want to tell you..."
Her excitement mixed with a hint of uncertainty made Harry's instincts flare.
This atmosphere was a warning sign!
From Harry's perspective, when he believed conflict probability exceeded one in ten thousand, he would grasp his weapon. If over one in ten probability, he'd often test or simply strike preemptively.
Now, Harry's wand in his sleeve was already positioned appropriately, but he didn't directly attack.
He'd developed what he called "Hogwarts Quick-Draw," fusing certain quick-draw techniques.
The first shot would be Expelliarmus, the hidden true killing move—a thrust. With his enhanced stamina, even with a simple wand, Harry could pierce through steel.
He still had Divine Power as a final resort. Of course, Professor McGonagall was an acquaintance—even if controlled by the Imperius Curse, Harry would try not to kill her.
"Don't be nervous, Potter... Wait, I'm used to it. Young wizards I privately interview are often very nervous, but you certainly wouldn't be, would you?"
"Haha." Harry cooperatively laughed, though the wand in his hand didn't relax.
"Let me introduce you first, Potter. This is Oliver Wood. Wood—I won't bother introducing Harry to you; you've definitely heard of the famous Harry Potter... I've found a Seeker for you."
Wood's expression shifted from confusion to joy.
"Are you serious, Professor? Harry can ride a broomstick? Oh, what am I thinking? Harry Potter can naturally do anything. I mean—"
"Absolutely serious," Professor McGonagall said crisply. "This child is a natural. I was nearby during Flying class that day. I saw him fly. I've never seen anything like it. Potter, was that your first time riding a broomstick?"
Harry silently nodded, quietly releasing his wand.
So the strange feeling stemmed from Professor McGonagall slightly bending the rules, which made her speak somewhat obscurely; her emotions were conflicted.
Of course, this was technically within her authority. She was Deputy Headmistress and Head of House. Many rules she'd participated in creating. She wanted to maintain fairness so much that she hesitated at obviously preferential behavior.
Speaking of rule-breaking, many professors randomly deducting points was actually non-compliant.
Won't name names here.
"You really should have seen how he flew," Professor McGonagall told Wood enthusiastically. "He caught Neville from a dangerous fall with perfect timing. Charlie Weasley couldn't match him."
Wood's expression now looked like all his dreams had suddenly come true.
"Ever seen a Quidditch match, Potter?" he asked excitedly.
"Wood is the Gryffindor Quidditch team captain," Professor McGonagall explained.
"I haven't seen one. I've watched several live football matches, though." He'd watched them in the [Asian Parents] world, and they'd left deep impressions.
Didn't mention that detail since in this world he hadn't been there.
But due to speech habits, Harry occasionally spoke other languages, claiming he'd self-taught from foreign films.
Self-taught—genius persona established.
"Not having seen one doesn't matter. Some people are naturally gifted. They're born knowing how to fly. I trust Professor McGonagall's judgment—she's very experienced... We're just lacking a Seeker," Wood said, circling Harry to examine him. "You must be lightning fast!"
"Indeed, I'm quite fast. Probably one of the fastest people around."
In another world, Harry had competed in athletics with his enhanced abilities.
Still somewhat embarrassed about that, though holding back deliberately would have displeased him more.
Having heard this much, if Harry still didn't understand, he'd be truly dense. McGonagall wanted him to play on the house Quidditch team.
And this captain just happened to need a Seeker.
"Amazing! Never imagined one day I could play alongside the Boy Who Lived—we must get him a proper broomstick, Professor—a Nimbus 2000 or Cleansweep Seven."
"I'll speak with Professor Dumbledore about allowing a first-year to play. We definitely need a better team than last year. We were crushed by Slytherin—I couldn't face Snape for weeks..."
Professor McGonagall looked at Harry. "As you can see, what I wanted to discuss with you is this. Joining the Quidditch team is every young wizard's dream. I hope you'll train hard and not waste your talent, Potter... Oh, I always try to treat you as an ordinary student. What I mean is, I never worry about your dedication. I can tell, to achieve your level of Transfiguration skill, plus the Charms proficiency Professor Flitwick praises endlessly, you've devoted far more effort than anyone could imagine. Success has no shortcuts."
No, I really do have shortcuts, Harry thought, nodding outwardly while feeling slightly guilty inwardly.
"...I just hope you don't overwork yourself."
Then she suddenly broke into a genuine smile.
"Your father would be proud of you," she said. "He was an excellent Quidditch player himself."
"Wait—though I really don't want to interrupt, but I have to refuse."
Harry held up his hand. "My father would have had many things to be proud of. There's no reason I should do things just because he did them."
"Rather than playing sports, I want to focus my energy on studying—I mean, use my energy on studying!"
Could playing games give him power?
Harry was very respectful to his parents—he'd already posthumously recognized his father as a King and his mother as a Queen. Didn't care whether it conformed to traditional succession laws—Harry made the laws.
"Sorry, Professor, shall I go eat now? Wood, pleased to meet you. I can tell you love Quidditch. I hope you find a new player soon."
Harry finished speaking, turned and left the room, closing the door behind him, leaving Professor McGonagall and Wood staring at each other in stunned silence.
Professor McGonagall began regretting her assumption. Harry had grown up in a non-magical family—he might have zero interest in Quidditch. How presumptuous of her.
Two seconds later, before they could fully process the rejection, the classroom door burst open again.
"Surprise! I was just joking!"
Professor McGonagall and Wood exchanged confused glances.
Harry used his smile to hide embarrassment. The instant he'd left, he'd sensed he might have just missed out on attribute points.
There were attribute points for playing Quidditch—this [Harry Potter] world's achievement system was incredibly generous.
If there were attribute points involved, that changed everything.
To become stronger, Harry had once competed in major athletics competitions with his enhanced abilities.
What was dominating some campus Quidditch compared to that? These young wizards seemed much more durable than ordinary people anyway.
In this moment, Harry knew—he had to play.
Restoring Gryffindor's glory—I must accomplish this!
"Professor, I want to play Quidditch after all."