World Hopping With Gacha

Saturday morning dawned crisp and bright, perfect weather for Quidditch trials. Gryffindor's second-year students were abuzz with excitement, and the air in the common room hummed with chatter about who would make the team this year.

I made my way down to the stadium, my Nimbus 2001 tucked securely in my trunk back in the dorm. While it was tempting to show off the latest broomstick, I had decided against it. Using a school broom ensured I wouldn't have an unfair advantage, and I genuinely wanted to enjoy the process without flexing my resources—not today, at least.

---

The stadium was already filling up with eager hopefuls when I arrived. Oliver Wood, Gryffindor's Quidditch captain, stood in the center of the pitch, clipboard in hand, barking orders at a group of second and third years.

As I waited for the trials to start, my attention was drawn to a commotion at the entrance. The entire Slytherin Quidditch team strolled in, wearing smug expressions and gleaming green robes. At their head was none other than Draco Malfoy, twirling his Nimbus 2001 like it was a scepter.

Oliver stormed over to them, his face a mix of irritation and confusion. "What are you lot doing here? This is Gryffindor's practice time!"

Curious, I followed him, staying a step behind as the argument unfolded.

"We have permission," Malfoy drawled, holding up a slip of parchment. His tone dripped with arrogance as he added, "We're trying our new brooms. Don't tell me you're jealous, Wood."

I couldn't resist stepping in and I wanted to enjoy today. "Mind if I take a look at that slip?" I asked, feigning polite curiosity.

Malfoy hesitated but handed it over. I skimmed the parchment quickly, suppressing a grin as an idea formed.

"Hmm," I said aloud, drawing out the sound as I handed the slip back to him. "It seems not all Slytherins can read."

"What are you implying, Wayne?" Malfoy snapped, his pale cheeks flushing.

"You've got permission to practice on the Quidditch lawn," I replied smoothly, emphasizing the last word. "Not the stadium. Can't you read, Malfoy, or are you just blind?"

Malfoy's eyes narrowed, and he snatched the parchment back, glaring at it as though willing the words to rearrange themselves.

Behind me, the Gryffindor team erupted into laughter. Even Oliver cracked a grin, though he quickly hid it behind his clipboard.

Before Malfoy could retort, I turned back to Oliver. "Shall we get started, Captain?"

Thanks Tonks for teaching me that Charm.

---

The trials were competitive as I expected, with a good mix of second and third years vying for positions. I was aiming for Chaser and made sure to give it my all, darting around the pitch with precision and agility.

The school brooms weren't the fastest or the smoothest, but I'd trained enough with Garuda's guidance to compensate. My movements were sharper, my reactions quicker, and my strength gave me an edge in snagging the Quaffle from opponents.

After a few rounds of testing—passing drills, goal attempts, and mock games—Oliver blew his whistle to call us down. He took his time announcing the results, drawing out the suspense in true dramatic fashion.

"And the new Chaser for Gryffindor is… Arthur Wayne!"

Cheers erupted from the Gryffindor team and supporters, and I couldn't help but smile as I shook hands with Oliver and the other team members.

"Welcome aboard," Oliver said, clapping me on the back.

---

That evening, the Great Hall buzzed with the usual chatter over dinner. The feast was splendid as ever, with heaping platters of roasted chicken, mashed potatoes, and treacle tart.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione joined me at the Gryffindor table, and the conversation naturally turned to Quidditch.

"Malfoy looked ready to hex you back there," Ron said between bites of chicken. "That was brilliant, by the way. The way you called him out."

"He deserved it," I replied, smirking. "You'd think with all his money, he'd at least learn to read properly."

Even Hermione chuckled at that, though she quickly masked it with a disapproving look.

But what they didn't know was that I changed the words written on it using a charm that Tonks taught me.

---

After dinner, I decided to take the long way back to the dormitory, enjoying the quiet halls as most students lingered in the common rooms. The castle always felt different at night—darker, yes, but also more alive, as though it held secrets it only whispered under the cover of darkness.

It was on one of these quiet stretches that I first heard it.

"Food…"

The voice was faint, almost a hiss, but it sent a chill down my spine. I stopped in my tracks, glancing around. The corridor was empty.

"Food…"

There it was again, closer this time. The sound seemed to slither through the air, echoing off the cold stone walls.

Garuda stirred beside me, his voice sharp. "Be wary, Arthur. This is not a mere illusion."

"Yeah, I figured," I muttered, my hand instinctively going to the wand tucked into my robes.

The whispering faded as suddenly as it had come, leaving me alone in the silent corridor.

"Looks like things are starting," I said quietly, resuming my walk.

---

Back in the dormitory, I found Harry and Ron waiting for me.

"You alright?" Harry asked, noticing my slightly pale face.

"Yeah," I replied, forcing a smile. "Just thought I heard something weird on the way back."

Ron raised an eyebrow. "Weird how?"

"Like someone whispering about… food," I said, choosing my words carefully.

---Note

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