On Sunday evening, seventh-year Marcus Flint stormed into the Slytherin common room.
He was so excited that he lifted Jane Yu into the air and spun her around, much like Rafiki raising Simba in The Lion King—
"Jane! Your gaming console is absolutely brilliant!"
"A groundbreaking invention! It's like Bowman Wright inventing the Golden Snitch!"
The Quidditch captain was practically spraying spit as he raved about the Quidditch game's incredible ability to simulate real matches. He strongly urged Jane to add more player slots, ideally covering all seven positions, so he could use it to coach his entire team.
"That's a great suggestion. Do you have any feedback on the other games?"
Jane cheerfully jotted down his ideas for the Lemays to improve their product.
In her latest letter, Perenelle Lemay had once again urged her to come up with more features and optimization ideas for the games.
"Well, consider this after-sales service and feedback collection," she thought to herself.
But Flint's enthusiastic monologue didn't stop after he finished giving his suggestions.
He went on to talk about his plans for a career in Quidditch after graduation, looking a bit lost.
"My family isn't too keen on me playing professionally. They think flying around on a broomstick isn't respectable," he said, his enthusiasm waning slightly. "They weren't exactly thrilled about me joining the house team in the first place."
This might be the one thing he envied about Gryffindor captain Oliver Wood. Ever since their first encounter on the pitch, they had recognized each other as mortal enemies. Every time they shook hands before a match, they seemed intent on crushing each other's fingers.
Their rivalry extended to fighting over practice fields and trying every possible way to spy on each other's training sessions.
"Oliver Wood doesn't have these problems! Ha!" Flint snorted angrily. "He just bragged about trying out for Puddlemere United, and his family fully supports him—how infuriating!"
"What's more," Flint clenched his fists, both angry and self-critical, "can't our team win the cup just once? Wood had his moment of glory in fifth year, but this year, Slytherin has to take the trophy!"
Jane couldn't help with the Quidditch cup—she knew next to nothing about the sport.
But when it came to a career in Quidditch, she did have some ideas.
"Professor Slughorn is arriving at the school tomorrow," she informed the troubled Quidditch captain. "He has some connections with the Holyhead Harpies, and he's in charge of career planning now... I think this information might be helpful to you."
Flint's eyes lit up.
But a few seconds later, his expression dimmed again. After a half-minute of silence, he said:
"Sigh—you probably don't know this, but the Holyhead Harpies only recruit witches."
During that thirty-second silence, he had already started contemplating whether there might be a potion in Snape's office that could change his gender.
Flint slapped his forehead, trying to clear his thoughts.
He gave Jane a firm pat on the shoulder and forced a smile.
"Thanks for the tip!" He decided to follow her advice. "I'll talk to Professor Slughorn, if he has the time."
Another person facing similar confusion was Gemma Farley, who had also just entered her seventh year and was feeling uncertain about life after graduation.
Overhearing Flint and Jane's conversation, she joined in.
"I'm more inclined to work at the Ministry of Magic. The Department of Magical Law Enforcement or the Department of International Magical Cooperation both sound appealing," Gemma said with some concern. She had already expressed her worries in letters to Jane over the summer. "My grades meet the standards, but the Farley family probably can't offer me much support."
She sighed and continued:
"Two years ago, I talked to Head of House Snape about career planning, but his workload is so heavy... he can't look after everyone."
"He did give me some advice, but it was mostly about academics... I'm lacking connections."
Jane suggested she also talk to Slughorn, as both Flint and Farley seemed to fit his criteria for "collecting" talented individuals.
"I will." Gemma smiled at her and pulled out her gaming console, waving it around. "Let's talk about something light and fun! Speaking of which, this product is absolutely fantastic!"
She had initially paid a deposit for Jane's gaming console just to support her junior's business, but once she got her hands on it, she found herself addicted after just half a day.
"Flying Harpy Bird, my high score is 940."
This game had been a random choice for Gemma, and she became so engrossed in making the bird fly farther that she hadn't even tried the other games yet.
She couldn't help but recall the moment she started the game—
In her dormitory.
When the game began, a large "TAP" appeared on the pixelated harpy bird, followed by a line of instructions: Tap repeatedly to keep the harpy bird from falling.
"What is this?"
Before she could react, the game started counting down.
3—2—1—
She tried pressing a few buttons, and the harpy bird let out a shrill, bizarre screech before crashing into a tree trunk—
It let out a final squawk and fell to the ground with a thud, dead.
Game over.
Gemma stared in disbelief at the bird lying belly-up, determined to try again—
The bird didn't make it past two tree trunks before crashing again.
It died once more.
The usually composed and well-mannered prefect swallowed the curse words on the tip of her tongue and clicked restart.
This time, she finally understood the mechanics: by controlling the rhythm of her taps, she could make the bird ascend and avoid the tree trunks.
Carefully, she tapped the buttons, guiding the harpy bird through a dozen tree trunks before it crashed again.
"How did I mess that up?"
Gemma played a few more rounds before angrily shutting off the console.
She glanced at her pocket watch—
It had been 5 PM just a few minutes ago; how was it suddenly 6 PM, dinner time?
Did time speed up?
Did I really play for that long?
Doubtful, she changed into her robes and prepared to head to the Great Hall for dinner, only to catch sight of the gaming console on her desk.
The grudges from the past hour surged within her, and she found herself opening the game again, as if possessed.
Just one more round.
She thought to herself.
A mistake, a mistake, tapped too fast by 0.3 seconds.
One more round, I still have time—
An accident, an accident, tapped too slow by 0.2 seconds.
That last round didn't count; just one more before dinner—
Why are these tree trunks so tall?
Why is the passage so narrow?
And so Gemma stood at her desk, playing Flying Harpy Bird for another two hours, finally breaking her high score of 940!
It wasn't until her roommates returned that she hurriedly left—
Only to find that the Great Hall had long since stopped serving dinner!
Her thoughts snapped back to the present.
"I feel like sending a cage full of harpy birds to whoever came up with this game." Gemma flashed a devilish smile. "I feel like I'm turning into a harpy bird myself from the frustration—wait, I saw the credits on the console. Don't tell me you designed this?"
Jane remained silent.
The concept for this game had indeed come from her, inspired by Flappy Bird.
But seeing Gemma practically radiating dark energy, she thought it best not to reveal her involvement.
Still, if even a model student like Gemma was this hooked, she was bound to make a fortune!
"Of course not, but I'll make sure to pass your feedback to the creators."
Jane managed a perfect 15-degree smile.
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