William's insides began to twist and churn as if he had swallowed live snakes.
Suddenly, a burning sensation surged from his stomach and spread through his entire body, reaching his fingers and toes.
Then came a horrifying melting feeling, as though his skin was bubbling like hot wax.
But the pain, just as suddenly as it had come, faded away.
"You alright?" Cedric asked excitedly.
He glanced at the empty bottle of Polyjuice Potion William had drained, a bold idea sparking in his mind.
It was the kind of idea that needed the cooperation of others, the kind of idea that leaves both parties involved happy…
Warrington's deep, raspy voice came out of William's mouth.
"I'm fine. But I'll have to find a potion that makes Polyjuice easier to drink."
Polyjuice would be a staple for him from now on, and he couldn't keep enduring this level of discomfort every time he used it.
The two of them headed to the pitch; the match was about to begin.
Being in the stands and actually playing on the field were two entirely different experiences.
This was William's first game, though to everyone else, Warrington was a seasoned player who had participated in countless matches.
"You look a bit nervous, Warrington," Truman said in a low voice.
"I had something bad for breakfast," William replied, setting himself up with an early excuse.
"Really? Well, hang in there. We're counting on you to score for us." Truman gave William a hearty pat on the shoulder.
At that moment, Madam Pince blew the starting whistle.
William mounted his broom and shot up, circling twice in the sky with his heart pounding wildly.
He waved at Cho and Hagrid below, though neither of them knew who he was right now.
The exhilaration was overwhelming. He couldn't help but whistle, tempted to throw his arms wide and shout, "I'm king of the world!"
He flew faster, his teammates behind him, his opponents in the distance; William felt unstoppable.
"It's time to show some real skill. Prepare to tremble, Gryffindor lions!"
Cedric shouted something at him, but the wind was too loud for him to hear. Soon, all of the spectators were gasping.
BAM!
George Weasley swung his Beater's bat, sending a Bludger flying at William's head like a cannonball. The smile had barely left his face before he was spiraling down toward the ground.
As he fell, only one thought echoed in his mind: "Am I about to become the first person in Hogwarts history to die on the Quidditch field?"
To hell with the Quidditch dream.
Never,
playing again.
…
…
Time passed quickly, and soon William had been in the loop for 520 days.
Over this year and a half, he had spent his days studying with Hogwarts' top professors and even participating in numerous Quidditch matches.
Alright, perhaps he'd come around to the game in the end.
Despite that first disastrous match where he'd taken a Bludger to the head, a week into the loop he couldn't resist the itch to get back on a broom.
Initially, he was terrible: no strategy, no skill, and no sense of teamwork.
He was a "three-no" player—utterly useless. He'd grab the Quaffle and fling it toward the goals like a reckless solo act.
He was a disaster.
In the worst match, Hufflepuff lost by a hundred points in forty minutes, and Truman nearly mistook him for the Bludger.
Fortunately, he always kept his wand handy, vanishing with a Disillusionment Charm the moment he landed, escaping the tidal wave of disappointment from his teammates.
Over time, however, William's skills improved. He learned various strategies, played more cooperatively, and actually stopped using matches as practice for basic techniques.
His shooting touch grew smoother, and his accuracy—rooted in muscle memory—gradually improved.
The time loop didn't reset muscle memory, giving him quite a huge advantage.
If he lacked anything, it wasn't time. Nor was it practice shots. Sometimes, in evading a tackle, he had to fly faster than usual, sharpening his flying skills in the process.
Though, most of the time, he was dodging his own teammates.
Quidditch was indeed a dangerous sport; in just a few months, he'd suffered every type of injury imaginable.
He'd been knocked off his broom, paralyzed from a fall, hit by a Bludger right where he least wanted, and even elbowed in the head by Charlie Weasley.
Charlie's blows were brutal, but William wasn't one to be intimidated. He whipped out his wand and hit Charlie with a Stupefy, knocking him out cold.
This sparked one of the worst brawls in Hogwarts' history, with multiple Houses clashing on the pitch.
Surrounded by Gryffindors, William held his own, standing his ground and showing them his resilience.
Thankfully, he could reset the loop. No one would remember it the next day, so he was free to go all out.
Through these fierce confrontations, William's Quidditch skills improved rapidly.
Although each match was cut short after forty minutes when Dumbledore called it off, the repeated experience allowed William to memorize the positions of his teammates and Gryffindor's players, making scoring a breeze.
As he progressed, he could score ten goals in forty minutes, racking up a hundred points and delivering three or four brilliant assists.
The pacing of Quidditch fell between basketball and football: faster than the latter, but without the shot clock violations of the former, where possession changed if no shot was taken within twenty-four seconds. Yet, unlike football, where entire matches could end in zero-zero ties, in Quidditch, every four minutes could bring a new goal.
After two months of training, William began sneaking onto Gryffindor's team.
The Weasley twins were far from as easy to deceive as Cedric, and it took him quite a while to earn their trust.
But that day, disaster struck—having never practiced with Gryffindor, and with abysmal luck, he missed every shot he took, allowing Hufflepuff to score a hundred points on them.
An enraged Professor McGonagall nearly fell from the stands.
After half a year of Quidditch, William finally grew tired of it.
Every match was against the same two teams, over and over, like playing NBA 2K but with only two selectable teams.
He turned his attention to Ancient Runes.
Studying Ancient Runes, also known as Runic Magic, was no easier than his other classes; in fact, it was even more challenging.
After a month, he'd barely memorized the basic alphabet.
William began to recognize the root of his frustration. He was experiencing burnout.
He had poured his energy into non-stop studying. In short bursts, it might have been fine, but after nearly a year and a half with no breaks, it was wearing him down.
Worse still, he was restricted to the castle, with Quidditch as his only outlet.
Even the comforts of this life had grown stale over time.
He felt trapped in a cage, facing the same people, hearing the same conversations, and knowing they would forget everything by the next day. The monotony was slowly becoming unbearable.
For nearly two years, William had dutifully followed Dumbledore's advice, making the most of the loop, absorbing as much knowledge as possible, sharpening his skills.
But two months later, he finally made up his mind.
It was time to leave the loop.
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