"I feel like there should be a lot of people this time," Ron said to Harry, carrying beans in his hands, "Just wait and see, Harry, I bet many people will participate in the Quidditch selection trials—because of you."
"Stop joking around," Harry waved his hand and said.
"I'm not joking," Ron analyzed seriously, "Look, everyone knows you're the good guy—while previous captains, whether it's Wood or Angelina, they've never been easygoing people, they've had strict joining requirements... But you, my brother, everyone always thinks you're a good-natured guy, with no temper."
Annie, sitting on Harry's other side, coughed, almost spluttering her breakfast through her nose.
Harry?
No temper?
How did you associate this person with that adjective?
If Harry really had no temper, the fairies might be a lot more powerful than they are now.
But she didn't plan to refute; since Harry, the involved party, hadn't said a word of disagreement, she was too lazy to step up and comment.
Just as Ron predicted, many students indeed came to the trials.
Half of the Gryffindor College students from first year to seventh year showed up.
First-year students were nervously clutching a few tattered old brooms picked from the school warehouse, while seventh-year students appeared tall and imposing, standing out with an intimidating presence.
One of those seventh-year students, a large, coarse-haired guy, was recognized by Harry as the boy from the Hogwarts Express.
Oh, isn't this Ron's competitor?
"We met last year when I participated in the Quidditch selection trials but wasn't chosen," Cormac said confidently, stepping out of the crowd to shake Harry's hand, "Cormac MacLagan, goalkeeper."
"Hello," Harry said, shaking hands with him.
He then looked at the first-year students and said to them, "Hey, first-year sproutlings—remember Principal Dumbledore's requirement? He doesn't allow first-year freshmen to join the Quidditch team, you know that, right?"
"Yes, Mr. Potter," everyone said in unison, uniformly.
"Then why are you still here?" Harry asked again.
"Because we want to try our luck," everyone said in unison again.
Good grief.
Harry thought Dumbledore's order was pointless, why are so many people not following directions, lacking organization and discipline?
But in fact...
He truly was a good person.
He didn't send the first-year students back, instead, he asked them to line up.
Since they were here, they should participate anyway, shouldn't they?
Maybe remembering his own talent back then, Harry pondered, what if there's a young wizard as gifted as him? Can't become a stumbling block for them, right?
So, everyone stayed.
Those not participating in the trials, merely intending to watch, Harry arranged for them to stand on the distant stands, letting them watch from far away to avoid impeding these players.
Harry decided to conduct a basic test first by calling all applicants into groups of ten to fly around the pitch.
This was truly a wise decision.
The first group of ten were all first-year freshmen, they obviously hadn't flown before.
"Even worse than Hermione," Ron muttered under his breath to Harry.
Hermione didn't hear Ron's muttering; she was sitting on the distant stands.
Only one boy stayed airborne for a few seconds, surprised himself, and soon crashed into the goalpost.
"So bad!" other students jeered, and the boy clearly felt a bit embarrassed too.
"If it were me, I wouldn't even join," Neville shivered and said, "Goodness, he can't even fly and dared to join the trials."
"Indeed, very brave," Seamus glanced at Neville, turned to Harry and asked, "What if something like Neville's situation in first-year happens again?"
Harry rolled his eyes.
"Don't worry," he said, "My magic spells can at least ensure they don't lose their little lives."
That was indeed true, though a bit conservative.
"You're truly a good-natured person, can't be saved," Ron shook his head and sighed, showing no worry for himself.
This time last year, he was fretting about winning Angelina Johnson's favor to get into the Gryffindor Quidditch team, but this year? This year Ron was full of confidence, he felt the goalkeeper position would surely be his.
But Cormac MacLagan obviously didn't think so.
The second group consisted of ten girls, Harry had never met such foolish girls before, as soon as he blew the whistle, they giggled incessantly bending over with laughter, hugging each other.
When Harry asked them to leave the pitch, they happily walked off and sat on the stands, bickering loudly among themselves.
"Women, huh," Ron shook his head, remarked with a sigh, "It's always like this, I suspect even if Professor Snape became Quidditch captain, they'd still be laughing and jeering."
"Don't say that," Seamus said quietly, "Are you crazy? That's the forbidden slide to mention!"
While they were chatting, the third group crashed midway around the pitch.
Most of the fourth group arrived without brooms; judging by their appearance, it seemed they hadn't forgotten to bring brooms, but rather hadn't intended to bring them at all.
Their purpose was just to watch the fun.