When Lewis arrived at the pitch, the one waiting for him wasn't the Ravenclaw Quidditch captain, Roger Davies—
but the one who had recommended him:
Cirilla Reanlun.
The gray-haired girl stood tall, her figure slender yet toned.
Even among the many striking girls of Ravenclaw, Lewis had to admit—
she was exceptionally beautiful.
But her presence was different.
Her gray hair was casually tied back over her shoulders, and her fitted training outfit gave her a sharp, almost heroic air.
Not at all like the usual Ravenclaw elegance.
More like—
a warrior.
Geralt's adopted daughter.
A witch now, perhaps—
but still carrying the spirit of a witcher.
"Hey! Professor Flitwick! Lewis—over here!"
At the same time, Ciri spotted them and waved under the sunlight.
"I'll leave things to you now, Mr. Green. Do your best."
Flitwick gave Lewis an encouraging pat before heading back toward the castle.
Lewis jogged over.
Ciri greeted him with a friendly pat on the shoulder.
"Hey, Mr. Green. This isn't our first time meeting, hmm?"
Lewis knew exactly what she meant.
The moment during sorting—
when he had accidentally called her name.
But he showed no embarrassment.
"You're right, Senior Reanlun. It was my first time seeing someone with gray hair—and such a beautiful senior at that. I was a bit surprised."
"Call me Cirilla—or Ciri," she laughed, covering her mouth slightly. "Then I'll call you Lewis."
"Also… I thought you'd be a bit more muscular."
That's because I didn't cast my buffs yet.
Lewis shrugged inwardly.
"Of course, Ciri. Nice to meet you."
Just like that, the distance between them closed.
Without another word, Ciri kicked open a wooden crate.
Inside were Quidditch supplies.
"Lewis, how much do you know about Quidditch?" she asked. "Not just as a spectator."
"I'm Muggle-born," Lewis replied with a helpless smile. "I only entered the magical world this summer."
Still—
he began explaining.
The rules.
The balls.
The positions.
The field.
Even basic tactics.
Everything, laid out clearly.
Ciri's expression gradually shifted.
This boy—
claimed he had never played Quidditch—
yet his theoretical knowledge rivaled seasoned players.
"…All from books," Lewis finished.
His internal "database" just happened to include Quidditch material.
"I've heard Ravenclaw gained a genius this year," Ciri said with a soft laugh. "Now I see it for myself."
"Honestly, most of our team probably doesn't know as much as you."
"Then let's skip theory."
She tossed him her broom.
"We'll go straight to practical testing. Professor Flitwick said he'll get you a new broom, but until then—you can use mine."
She winked.
"Cleansweep Seven. He gave it to me when I joined. Take good care of it."
Lewis caught the subtle implication immediately.
Flitwick giving him a broom wasn't standard.
Most players bought their own.
This was likely because—
he came from a Muggle orphanage.
No family to support him.
Harry had received the same treatment.
And Ciri…
likely had a similar past.
Which confirmed Lewis's suspicion.
She, like him—
was an outsider to this world.
He nodded, then turned slightly.
Under Ciri's curious gaze, he casually flicked his wand at himself.
Bear's Endurance.
Bull's Strength.
Cat's Grace.
All activated.
Then—
Ciri released a Bludger.
The moment it was free, it shot straight toward Lewis's face.
Without hesitation, he grabbed a bat and swung.
With Bull's Strength boosting him—
his power surged far beyond normal.
The Bludger flew off like a cannonball—
straight through a hoop.
As if it were a Quaffle.
"Nice one, Lewis," Ciri said, impressed. "Stronger than I expected."
Before she could finish—
the Bludger came screaming back down, this time aimed at her.
She didn't flinch.
With a quick sidestep, she caught it midair and forced it back into the crate.
Her movements were smooth, controlled—
almost matching Lewis under buffs.
No wonder she could be a witcher.
"You've got potential as a Beater," she said. "But let's see what else you can do."
Next came flight tests.
Two laps around the pitch.
Sharp turns.
Complex maneuvers.
Lewis executed every one perfectly.
Then—
Chaser drills.
Ciri began coordinating passes with him.
Reverse passes.
Feints like the Porskoff Ploy.
These required teamwork.
And that's where Lewis's psionic ability came in.
Even without full telepathy—
he could read emotions.
Intent.
Timing.
He always knew—
when she would pass.
When she needed support.
When she couldn't receive.
Their coordination became flawless.
On the pitch—
as Lewis once again caught a pass without even looking back—
Ciri felt something shift inside her.
This boy—
had sharp reflexes, keen perception, and incredible control.
But more than that—
on their very first time working together—
he matched her perfectly.
As if—
they were meant to be teammates.
When the test ended, she grabbed his hand, unable to hide her excitement.
"Lewis—join me as a Chaser."
"With your aptitude, you could play any position—but Chaser suits you best."
"With you on the team, Ravenclaw will definitely win the Cup this year!"
Then she quickly added,
"We've also recruited another aptitudeed player this year. Roger wants her as Seeker because she's… very cute."
She had practically given away the most coveted position—
just to keep him as her partner.
Even using the captain as an excuse.
But Lewis knew—
if Ciri really wanted something—
even Roger Davies would agree.
After all—
she was the Lion Cub of Cintra.
Lewis wasn't surprised.
In fact—
this was exactly what he intended.
With his psionic ability, he could sync with anyone.
But this level of connection—
he chose to give only to her.
His reasoning was simple.
There were bonds in life forged through shared battles.
And Quidditch—
was its own kind of battlefield.
Fight side by side.
Build trust.
And if that trust was strengthened by perfect understanding—
it became unbreakable.
Once they grew close enough—
he could begin asking questions.
About her origins.
Her presence in this world.
And beyond that—
Ciri herself was worth knowing.
Lewis smiled.
"Alright. I'm in."
Just like that—
he officially became a Chaser for Ravenclaw.
From then on, his life grew even busier.
As classes progressed, academic pressure increased.
Most of his free time still went to the library.
But now, he also had—
three Quidditch practices a week,
and weekend one-on-one tutoring sessions with Hermione.
Aside from not yet finding a way into the Restricted Section—
his days were full.
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