In my mindless wanderings amidst the castle late at night, time of day completely lost to me, nose buried in books, and often finding myself trampling upside-down from the ceilings with no idea how I'd gotten there. Last night was the scariest of all. Some other first years had already been caught out after lights out and cost their house 50 points each. I was trying to decide whether or not 'The Witch's Broom: The Craft, Lore Magic of Broomstcks' was muggle filth, or actual magic use when I collided head first into a ceiling beam.
A glance up became a glance face-first into the Gryffindor table of the Great Hall. I tumbled off with a cacophony of clangs of silverware and smashed plates following me to the floor.
"Who's there!" shouted the caretaker from a distance, no more than the next hall over.
'Not good!' my feet stumbled with the grace of a Hufflepuff on brownie night as I tried to throw myself toward the opposite exit and began plotting a route back to my dormitory in the dungeons. There was no easy way there without doubling back the way Filch was coming from.
Out into a hallway as quietly as I could manage, I saw a door I was unfamiliar with and dashed inside.
My foot landed in a sodden, smelly bucket and stuck there. A broom handle fell over and struck me in the back of the head.
'Oh great, one of the janitor closets. He'll find me here in no time.' Best time to test one of my bricks.
But I couldn't open my satchel. I'd forgotten the password I'd given it. Pointing my wand I decided to go for broke, but the broom fell and caught the back tip of my wand, "open sesame" I muttered, but instead of pointing at my satchel, I was now aimed at the door!
The explosion couldn't have been missed by anyone. But my satchel opened! I reached into the bag and gripped a brick I'd enchanted with a short-range Portus charm. I tried to steady myself, but the sodding bucket decided my balance for me, and I fell out into the open, landing in the dust cloud and debris of the janitors closet.
"Gotcha now!" shouted the gaunt grounds-keeper as he closed in.
I smashed my face with the brick and teleported back to the dungeons in a storm of broken wood and shattered broom fragments, but no Argus Filch, and if I couldn't make his face yet, then neither could he mine, I thought.
I wasn't all the way back to my dorm, but nobody would find me in my empty classroom I'd claimed for my own. The once bare room had a crackling fireplace, a well-adorned desk filled with mortar/pestle, empty vials, ingredients harvested from the castle grounds in the wild, books, quills, papers, and an odd number of crystal balls resting in jeweled legs.
Timothy lept from my pocket and scurried up to his nest on the mantle above the fire. He surveyed the mess I'd brought with me. I jammed my hands into my robe pockets, trying not to think about the trouble I would get my fellow snakes into if I'd been caught. My hand closed around "Witch's Broomstick." Funny, I didn't remember sticking it there after my fall. But it did give me an idea.
"Wingardium leviosa!" I levitated the longest, sturdiest piece of the janitors door in front of me as imaginings shot through my mind.
A strangling hedge from near the Groundskeepers shack was the first step. It slithered like a snake around the handle until it formed a perfect grip, reinforcing the wood. New vines slithered out to take hold the wrists of any flyer riding it.
The janitors broom had completely shattered into pieces, but all the bristles were intact, if flimsily. Reaching the fathomless depths of my side satchel I find the two main ingredients I'm going to need to strengthen them. Mixing the salamander blood and powdered griffin claw together into the shallow of my cauldron I realize it just won't be enough for every straw.
A chittering at my side pulls me from thought. There's Timothy with my spray bottle of Everklena. The bottle claimed it would clean anything but actually multiplied any mess it was sprayed on. Timothy chittered, saluted, then scurried back to his nest. I grinned at my clever squirrels intuition and creativity. But now wasn't the time for anthropomorphism, now was time to dip the bristles into the cauldron.
My face was lit with the green glow of the rune etched to the side of my cooking pot as sweat poured down it. Every single piece had to be dipped on each end without dripping any of the Strengthening Solution on my hands then placed aside to dry. When the potion began to run low, I sprayed the contents of the cauldron with the Everklena, and the pot filled itself right back up!
Taking the remains of the hinges, a simple Transfiguration spell twisted the metal into traction pegs to grip my feet against.
After binding the bristles together, I thought hard to remember the spell under the chapter of Levitation Charms in Standard Book of Spells, Grade five, then cast the Flying Charm on my newly assembled broom.
I pulled my wand away from the broom and it stayed levitating in the air. The hedge grip writhing, waiting for a rider. I throw my leg over the handle and balanced myself. Once the vines wrapped around my hands, I felt my eyes suddenly sting! Had I done something wrong?! I opened them to find I could not only still see, but all my magical herbs and ingredients were absolutely glowing! Even the mundane plants grabbed my attention even at a distance. Timothy was standing up in his armor looking at me curiously, and the various plant debris he'd used to make his nest read categorically in my mind, giving me a thorough understanding of their nature, use in spells, and potions, and combinations with others, even some I hadn't ready about.
Somehow the broom I'd invented had become an Herbologists best friend for finding ingredients in the wild or even in the class room. Shame we're not allowed to own any as first years.
I sighed and dismounted, setting the broom aside. I guess I was tired. Maybe I oughtta, and that was the last thought that went through my mind as I fell asleep in my chair.