A magical journey that begins in Azkaban

For several days, Roger was polishing the handle of his alder wand. He was like a craftsman who kept improving, and every slide of sandpaper was accompanied by the pursuit of perfection.

When this delicate part was put on the wand, a qualitative leap in the grip burst out in the palm lines. When waving, the wand was as smooth as flowing water, and every trajectory was perfect.

This incomparable refreshing feeling was like swallowing a piece of ice on a hot summer day, and it was like enjoying chocolate that melted in the mouth.

He tied the retractable magic line and then gently pulled his ring finger. In an instant, the wand jumped from the belt to the palm of his hand, and the whole process was so fast that it was almost imperceptible.

In a duel between ordinary wizards, this insignificant saving may not matter. But if facing a duel champion like Professor Flitwick, victory or defeat is decided in an instant.

This is like a cowboy duel in the wilderness of the West, and only the one who draws the gun the fastest can survive. The more skilled, the more obsessed with every inch of detail.

In the activity room of the Jackdaw Magic Society, Roger erected a human-shaped target and began to familiarize himself with the new wand attachment. At first, the wand seemed a little stubborn and unwilling to fall into his palm obediently.

Roger had to lift his index finger slightly and gently guide it back to the correct position. As time went on, each pull became more precise. He could close his eyes and grasp the landing point of the wand in the instant of flicking his ring finger.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Beams of light hit the target accurately, and the dull sound echoed in the room. His arms drew dazzling trajectories in the air, and all kinds of complex spells were at hand.

Finally, with the "click" sound of relief, the overwhelmed target finally ended its tragic fate. Then, the whisper of "repair as before" sounded. The scattered and fleeing fragments were like soldiers obeying orders, reuniting into a complete target and enduring the ravages of the spell again.

"Is your handle ready?" Susan from Hufflepuff came in with a pile of books, and looked at the wand in Roger's hand that suddenly disappeared and suddenly appeared in surprise.

"How did you do that?" She asked curiously, her eyes doubled by the wand that appeared back and forth. "My retractable magic line can only pull the wand into my hand, but yours seems to be given life."

Susan said as she pulled out her wand from her robe. Its tail was temporarily wrapped with parchment as a handle, and the thin and invisible magic line was tied to it. With a slight pull of the ring finger, the wand flew from her waist and fell into her hand.

"You see, it's always not very obedient, even slower than before." Susan complained in a low voice, her brows slightly frowned, "Sometimes I really wonder if this magic line has been cursed."

"I used two magic lines, one for retracting, so that the wand can return to the belt." Roger walked over with a smile and showed her the second magic line.

He looked at Susan's wand carefully and gently pointed out: "Your magic line is tied too low, and the position of the magic wand is not right. Come, I will teach you."

Susan hurried to Roger's side, her eyes closely following his every move, comparing the differences between them.

Soon, she found that her wand was inserted vertically on the side, while Roger's was inserted diagonally at the back waist. Obviously, Roger's placement is more suitable for pulling the magic line.

"First, you need to straighten the magic line, and there must be no knots." Roger's fingers gently lifted Susan's wrist, allowing the magic wand to rotate freely in the air until it stopped.

Then, he signaled Susan to untie her robe and insert the magic wand at the back of the same side of the belt. Susan looked at Roger, who was close at hand, and felt the temperature of his breath. Her slightly chubby cheeks instantly turned abnormally red.

Roger didn't notice the changes on her face at all, and concentrated on explaining how to properly organize the magic line.

"You should fix the position of the wand first." Roger's tone was gentle and focused. He gently untied the magic string on Susan's ring finger, and then re-passed it through the sleeve of her school robe.

"Generally speaking, put on the outermost robe after tying the magic string on your finger. In this way, you can avoid blocking and spinning. Now, try it again."

Susan lowered her head and said "hmm" softly. But she was obviously absent-minded and completely forgot what to do next.

"... Miss Burns? Miss Burns?" Roger shook her shoulders gently, trying to wake her up from her daze.

"Ah, sorry..." Susan's cheeks flushed, she apologized awkwardly, and she wanted to get into the crack in the ground immediately and disappear in front of Roger.

Roger smiled and said gently: "Try it." His voice was like a warm sunshine, which resolved Susan's embarrassment.

Susan nodded quickly, and her right ring finger gently pulled. The magic wand flew into the palm of her hand along the robe and sleeve. Although the position where it appeared was not suitable for direct grip, it was a huge improvement compared to the previous spinning situation.

"The deviation is a bit large." Roger thought for a moment, then suggested, "It may be because your hands are relatively small, try using your middle finger or index finger.""

After trying several times, Susan's wand still couldn't return to the correct position. She lowered her head, with frustration flashing in her eyes, and asked softly: "Rogge, am I too stupid?"

"How can you say you are stupid?" Roger shook his head and encouraged in a firm voice: "It may be a problem with the handle, after all, it is temporary. Or, let me hold your hand and try again?"

Susan agreed in a low voice, leaning forward slightly and letting Roger hug her wrist from behind. She could feel the body temperature transmitted through the school robe, which made her body tremble slightly involuntarily.

At this moment, she could hear her heart beating wildly and feel the blush on her cheeks as hot as a soldering iron.

"Attention, you must shake hands the moment you pull out the wand." As soon as she finished speaking, Rogge gently moved her middle finger. At the same time, his hand guided her arm to lift slightly to the outside.

The moment the arm stopped, the wand slid accurately into Susan's mouth. She didn't react for a moment, but luckily Rogge seized the opportunity accurately and wrapped her hand firmly to ensure that the wand was not tilted.

"Look, this is no problem..." Rogge also noticed that something was wrong with the atmosphere at this moment. The distance between the two was a little too close, and Susan was almost completely pressed into his arms.

He quickly let go of his hand and tried to take a step back to relieve the sudden embarrassment.

However, Susan did not retreat, but approached him more boldly. Her little hand gently hooked the hem of Rogge's clothes, and her voice was low and a little shy: "Today is the day of Quidditch selection. They... they all went to the stadium."

Her eyes sparkled with anticipation, and the whole room seemed to grow warmer at her proximity. Roger obviously did not expect that the girls of the Burns family would have such a bold side.

Before he could speak, Susan stood on tiptoes and gently left a faint red mark on his cheek.

"Thank you for your guidance, Roger." She whispered and closed her eyes slightly, as if waiting for a special moment.

"Ah, it should be...I am the president after all." Rogge rubbed his cheek, feeling a little at a loss.

If he goes further now, he believes that Susan will not refuse any of his requests. But he had always regarded her as a classmate and a springboard to communicate with Minister Amelia, so he was completely unprepared for her sudden behavior.

"You...Daphne and I..." Roger tried to clarify something, with a hint of hesitation in his voice.

"I've heard of it." Susan interrupted him. She raised her head and stared bravely into Rogge's deep black eyes. "Many girls are speculating about your relationship with Daphne and Hermione. Even... …Even the French witch from last year.”

"But, but I really like you..." Her voice gradually dropped, feeling both nervous and full of expectation.

"Hahaha..." Before she could finish her confession, Draco's iconic mocking voice came from outside the door.

"Roger, you should go to the Quidditch pitch. That clown Ron actually wants to be an official player. He's still far from it!"

Rogge breathed a sigh of relief and felt like he was being dragged out of the turbulent whirlpool. Fortunately, he had the strength to remain calm and knew how to stay calm.

Susan turned her head and glanced at Malfoy awkwardly. She quickly picked up her book and hid in the corner of the room.

Draco talked eloquently, telling everything that happened on the field today in detail. Those things about Ron always came out of his mouth with a clown-like joy and a sense of comedy.

Since the secondary league and the World Cup maintain a four-year rhythm, varsity players return to their respective academy teams after the league. That means many have long and arduous careers on the bench.

Fortunately, every year seventh graders leave the team due to graduation, freeing up a lot of spots for others. In addition, due to the suspension of the Triwizard Tournament last year, the teams of the four academies have more positions available.

When Ron saw the selection notice, his desire to become a regular player was rekindled. He gripped the broom tightly and stood on the Quidditch pitch again.

Compared with two years ago, the Hogwarts Quidditch team has taken on a new look due to training in the league, and its strength has been qualitatively improved. The current game not only tests speed and agility, but also requires the ability to withstand confrontation and show the overall situation and golf intelligence.

Ron's goal is the goalkeeper position. This role is an indispensable part of the team, even decisive. Whether it can stop a strong and cunning chaser like Draco will directly affect Gryffindor's results in this year's competition.

Draco chuckled twice, with a hint of contempt and disdain in his tone: "If Gryffindor lets Weasley be the goalkeeper, their goal will probably become wider than the sea."

"No matter how fast Harry Potter chases, he can't stop me from scoring 150 points first..."

Hermione and Ariana walked into the room and heard Draco's big words. She couldn't help but retort: ​​"Draco, don't be too happy, we will never lose to Slytherin!"

"Vice president, the stadium is not an examination room. It doesn't depend on how many books you read." He rolled up his sleeves, revealing his tanned forearms, and showed off: "See, this is the medal left after the special training during the summer vacation. ”

"Once I graduate, I will work as a chaser for a professional team. I, Draco Malfoy, am a quasi-professional player and will never lose! Especially to Weasley." His tone was so firm, and the basis was clear. It was so reliable that Hermione, who never gave up easily, could not easily refute it.

Seeing Hermione's silence, he even sang a song of victory proudly: "We are the champions, the champions of the stadium..."

Hermione pouted dissatisfiedly and sat next to Roger out of habit. She spread out the parchment and prepared to start writing the assignment assigned by her professor, but Draco's singing made it difficult for her to calm down.

"Malfoy, you are too noisy!" She couldn't help but draw out her wand and pretended to chant a spell.

Draco cheered and fled the room with his flying broomstick on his shoulder, leaving his tuneless singing voice floating in the air.

"Damn it, if only I were proficient in flying broomsticks!" Hermione complained, her tone full of helplessness towards Draco and desire for Quidditch, "That way, he wouldn't be so proud. "

Rogge smiled slightly and joked softly: "Miss Granger, your flying class score is your worst subject."

"That was before!" Hermione replied unconvinced, turning to look at Ariana, as if seeking support, "I'm making up lessons with her now, maybe Mrs. Hooch will let me take the exam again."

"Anyway, my flying skills are better than yours anyway. At least, I don't have to go out on a magic carpet."

There was even louder laughter in the room, and almost the whole school knew about Roger's dislike of flying broomsticks. Hermione was teasing him rudely while writing secretly on his thigh to communicate.

Since school started, she has been spending time with Ariana almost every day. He didn't even have a chance to chat with Rogge alone.

Roger noticed Hermione's thoughts and couldn't help curling his lips, thinking to himself: "Do you want to chat? You are greedy for my body!"

He had just defeated Susan's challenge and was faced with Hermione's complaints. Alas, it’s hard to be a man, and it’s even harder to be a calm man.

He quickly drank a large gulp of ice water, gave Hermione a squeeze, and then immersed himself in the rest of his homework as if nothing had happened.

As time passed, members of the Jackdaw Magic Society gradually arrived. Draco was also back, picking up his quill and concentrating on preparing for the OWLs exam.

This year, there are more second-year students applying to join the Magic Society. The turmoil in the outside world has more or less affected the atmosphere inside Hogwarts.

"Recently, Harry and the others are going to start a club or something like that." Hermione stopped writing, pinched her palms that were sore from writing, then looked around and whispered, "The most irritating thing is …”

She paused, obviously choosing the right words, "Neville gave their organization a name, the Lion Heart Shield. Hmm, if I had known better, I wouldn't have allowed him to join the Jackdaw Magic Society."

Hermione complained and muttered: "He knows so much about our Magic Society, as well as the battle guide we made. Hmm, he should be asked to hand it back when he withdraws from the society."

Roger listened quietly and stared at Hermione with a meaningful look until she looked a little embarrassed. Originally, you were instigating the formation.

Hermione touched her bangs and whispered, "Stop looking at me like that."

There was a hint of shyness in her voice, and she was obviously a little uncomfortable with Roger's gaze.

"I overheard it in the common room. How about we lower the standards of the Magic Society?" she suggested softly, sounding unsure.

"No." Rogge refused decisively and said firmly: "Our magic society is for mutual learning and communication, not for fighting with them."

"And there are so many organizations in the school, such as Gobstone Club, Charm Club, Duel Club... We have our own purposes, and we don't need to care so much about the activities of other clubs."

"By the way, you and Daphne are also important members of the Charm Club."

Hermione's mood eased slightly, but she still said with some dissatisfaction: "Actually, it's very boring inside. It's just a group of witches gathering together to compare clothes, accessories and so on."

She was still worried about Neville, and felt uneasy at the thought that he might reveal the secrets of the Magic Society: "What if Neville reveals it? He knows everything, including the fact that we use Acromantula and other tools to train spells... "

"We don't have any secrets." Rogge shook his head, his voice calm and confident, "Even in the club's activity room, as long as you pay attention, you can detect some clues."

"Hermione, just like you won't tell others about the Charm Club. I believe that Neville will not tell others about the Jackdaw Magic Society." His firm eyes were full of brilliance, which made Hermione's heart Ashamed, "Believe him, or believe Gryffindor's character."