For a long time, the young wizards were discussing the pre-Halloween elective with great interest.

After all, this is the first practical class in the fifth and seventh grades, and it is conducted in this way of house competition.

They also indirectly felt Professor Ricciardo's strength - it took them half a day to deal with a troll, but Professor Silva brought the trolls to the hall unscathed, and gave them a bath!

The other grades were also envious of them - practical activities were obviously more popular than theory classes, and Chino would only take them to read the textbook, even asking him how to deal with vampires!

When the other grades saw this, they almost wanted to ask Chino: What did you teach?!

This annoyed Chino a lot, and of course, nothing changed.

"Lord...... Master, I ...... Is this really all I have to look like? ”

"You have to be patient, Quirinus," Voldemort said coldly, "we are the ones who want to do great things, and don't care what these little kids think." Educating them will only give Dumbledore more power against us. ”

"Also, do you really know how to defence the dark arts? What else can you really do besides reading a textbook? ”

...... "I actually have quite a lot, volt, earth, and demons."

……

As we enter November, the weather becomes very cold. The mountains surrounding the school were gray and covered with snow and ice, and the lake was as cold and hard as hardened steel.

It was a sunny and cold morning. The enticing smell of grilled sausages fills the room, and everyone is looking forward to a good Quidditch match and chatting happily.

As the frost freezes on the Quidditch pitch, Hagrid, the key keeper, wraps himself in a long moleskin coat, wears rabbit fur gloves, and wears huge beaver fur boots to defrost his broomsticks on the Quidditch pitch.

"Hey, Mr. Hagrid, hello." Ricardo walked over to Hagrid, shuddering and greeting.

"Oh? Isn't this the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor who saved the little savior in July? Hagrid grinned and said, "How did you get to the Quidditch pitch today?" ”

He tapped Ricciardo lightly on the shoulder, but the strength was so strong that Ricciardo simply fell for it.

"Isn't there a Quidditch match today," Ricardo sighed into his palms, "I'll help you with some setups." ”

"The fire is raging!"

"Clean and new!"

Ricardo used the spell with ease, and Hagrid defrosted it physically, his eyes full of envy.

"Ah, wand, I wish I could use it in public."

"Why not?"

"Sorry, I ......" Hagrid snorted, a little overwhelmed.

"Okay...... Then bless you. Ricardo graciously stopped the conversation.

"Thank you."

Soon after, with the help of Ricciardo, Hagrid completed his mission, and he left the pitch as he said he was going to the hut to get something.

Ricardo walked a few laps around the pitch and arrived at the professorship after the arrival of Mrs. Hodge.

At nine o'clock, most of the students arrived at the Quidditch pitch, and the professor had basically arrived, and Flitwick sat down next to him and asked teasingly:

"Why aren't you studying in the office today? So you're still interested in brooms. ”

"Come out and put your thoughts in order," said Ricardo, "in fact all I know of is that there are seven hundred ways to foul Quidditch, and they all came up in a World Cup match in 1473—it reminds me of a country that had a good life, and a country that had shot Tang Taizong many times. ”

“…… What do you mean? ”

Flitwick didn't understand, and Ricardo smiled incomprehensibly, not answering.

By eleven o'clock, it seemed that all the teachers and students had arrived in the stands around the Quidditch pitch. Many students also brought binoculars. The seats were literally lifted into the air, but it was still difficult to see the game at times.

It was a Quidditch battle between Gryffindor and Slytherin, with the flags of Slytherin and Gryffindor hoisted high, and their respective students shouting and cheering desperately.

A large banner – which looked like a sheet – hung in the top row of Gryffindor with the words "Potter must win" and a large Gryffindor lion painted underneath, with paint shimmering in different colors.

"Who do you think this is a color spell?" Ricardo pointed to the banner, "If it's a first-year student, that student is a smart guy." ”

"Oh, Miss Hermione Granger, I think," Flitwick said, looking at her, and decided, "she's the only one who has that skill." ”

Hermione Granger again? Ricardo blinked, thinking.

At this time, Mrs. Huo Qi, as the referee, stood in the center of the court, holding her broomstick in her hand, waiting for the players of both sides.

"Listen, I want everyone to be fair and honest in the competition." As soon as the team gathered around her, she shouted.

As she spoke, her eyes glanced in the direction of Slytherin.

"Please get on your broomsticks."

When everyone stepped on their broomsticks, Lady Hooch blew her silver whistle vigorously.

Fifteen broomsticks rose from the ground and rose high into the sky.

The race is on.

"The Quaffle was immediately grabbed by Gryffindor's Angelina Johnson! What a great chaser that girl is, and she's still very charming! ”

"Jordan!" Professor McGonagall shouted angrily, as if her own daughter had been forcibly teased by some stinky boy.

"I'm sorry, Professor."

McGonagall didn't speak, she stood next to the narrator, supervising his work.

"She really ran all the way up there, a nice pass, and it gave Alya. Spinnett ......"

"How does it feel, Ricardo?" Flitwick asked, looking at Ricardo with squinting eyes.

"It's a bit exciting...... It looks blood-pumping – wait, is that a snitch? ”

Ricciardo asked the same question as the commentator when he saw a golden light fly past the left ear of one of the Slytherin players, and a whisper could be heard from the crowd.

The Seeker's Savior swooped down, chasing the golden streamer. The Slytherin Seekers saw it, too. The two of them ran side by side towards the snitch.

The chasers seemed to have forgotten what they were supposed to do, hovering in the air one by one, watching.

Obviously, Mr. Savior is faster than Higgins, but—

Boom!

There was a roar of rage from the Gryffindors below. A troll-looking Slytherin player deliberately rams the Savior, his broomstick jerks off course, but the Savior clutches at it.

"Foul!"

The Gryffindors shouted.

Mrs. Hodge angrily rebuked Flint and then ordered Gryffindor to take a free-kick at the post.

But in the chaos, the Golden Snitch disappeared from sight again.

"I'm kind of tired of this kind of competition," Ricciardo sighed, "and these kids are a little underwhelmed." ”