World Hopping With Gacha

The morning of November 1st started off like any other. I completed my workout, freshened up, and headed straight to the Room of Requirement.

Entering the familiar room, I opened the Gacha system, my fingers hovering over the [Spin] button. With a deep breath, I clicked.

The wheel spun, its colorful sections flickering as it slowed down, teasing me with the promise of something good. Finally, it stopped.

[Dirt]: Yup, you and I both read it right. Simple, plain dirt.

I stared at the screen in disbelief. Dirt. Literal dirt. My mouth twitched as I resisted the urge to curse out loud. "Alright," I muttered to myself, "shake it off. Next spin."

I clicked [Spin] again, my hope hanging by a thread. The wheel spun and stopped once more.

[Roasted Coffee Beans]: Because why not, right? Nothing like a cup of coffee to drown my sorrows.

"What's the point of B-ranked luck if it doesn't even work when it counts?" I groaned, running a hand through my hair. My luck was supposed to give me decent rewards, not garbage-tier items.

Shaking my head, I clicked on my final [Spin], praying to whatever cosmic force controlled this ridiculous system. The wheel spun one last time.

[Flashlight]: A basic, battery-operated flashlight.

I stood there in silence, staring at the screen. My Gacha luck had officially hit rock bottom. Dirt, coffee beans, and a flashlight—what was I supposed to do with any of that? "Yup, it's official," I muttered, "my luck has expired."

Sulking, I left the Room of Requirement. The disappointment hung over me for the rest of the day until Ron and Harry found me during lunch.

"Arthur!" Ron called, practically bouncing with excitement. "You're ready for the match this weekend, yeah?"

"Match?" I asked, blinking at him.

"Gryffindor vs. Slytherin," he said, grinning. "Saturday. Everyone's talking about it!"

I nodded slowly. "Right, the match. I'm ready."

Harry clapped me on the back, clearly confident in our team's victory. His enthusiasm was contagious, and for the first time that day, my spirits lifted.

---

Saturday came quickly, and the anticipation in the air was electric. The crowd erupted into cheers as both teams entered the pitch. I mounted my broom, a Nimbus 2001 I'd acquired this summer. Seeing the Slytherin team flaunting their identical Nimbus 2001s made me smirk. Let them think they had the advantage. They'd soon learn that skill trumped equipment.

The game began, and I wasted no time making an impact. My first goal was clean and swift, slipping past the Slytherin Keeper with ease. The Gryffindor crowd roared, and I grinned as I flew past Draco Malfoy.

"Better brooms don't mean better skills, Malfoy!" I called out, relishing the scowl on his face.

The game was intense, but Gryffindor was clearly dominating. I scored goal after goal, weaving through Slytherin's defenses with practiced ease. Harry, meanwhile, was keeping an eye out for the Snitch, his focus unwavering despite Malfoy's attempts to distract him.

By the time Harry caught the Golden Snitch, the score was 250-70 in Gryffindor's favor. The crowd erupted into cheers, and I couldn't help but feel a surge of pride.

As we landed and celebrated our victory, I noticed Malfoy sulking near the Slytherin stands. "Get rekt, bozo," I muttered under my breath, chuckling as I joined my teammates.

---

The next day, I returned to the Room of Requirement to continue my training. Despite the Gacha's disappointing rewards, I couldn't let myself slack off. I focused on honing my combat and physical skills, pushing myself harder with each session.

But just as I was about to call it a day, a sharp cry echoed through the Room. Garuda, my reliable companion, perched on my shoulder with a sense of urgency.

"What's wrong?" I asked, sensing something was off.

Garuda didn't respond in words, but his silence made the message loud and clear. Another attack had occurred.

Collin Creevey, a first-year Gryffindor, had been petrified.

The news hit me harder than I expected. I knew the second attack was coming I even told Garuda to keep an eye out for it, but I didn't think it would happen so soon—just eight days after the first attack. It felt like the events were accelerating, and I wasn't sure if I was ready for what was to come.

I made my way to the hospital wing, where Collin was being treated. The sight of the small boy, frozen in a state of terror, sent a chill down my spine.

As I left the hospital wing, my mind raced with thoughts. Collin's attack wasn't just a wake-up call—it was a reminder that the danger was very real even in a childrens novel. I couldn't afford to be complacent.

---Note

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