Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter

Harmonian Stars

Skywards

Magic, Harry figured out after only a few lessons, was something magnificent. Working with his wand in Transfiguration- and Charms-Classes was possibly the most exciting thing he'd ever done in his life. It was foreign, yet it brought him joy unlike anything else. Sure, his list of joyful activities as a child was… short to stay polite, but nevertheless, Harry wouldn't trade his magic for anything in the world. Most spells came naturally to him and for the first time, he received praise from the teachers and students instead of a scolding.

What did not come naturally to him was potions. It was a difficult subject, and though not too different from cooking, a certain precision and a wide understanding of ingredients and methods were necessary for even the simplest of tasks. Unfortunately, Harry had neither. Gone was the instinctual flow of his magic as no wand was used for a potion, only the cauldron, stirrer, and the ingredients. Despite all this, Potions-Class could still have been an interesting and maybe even fun subject – like you'd enjoy a challenging riddle. It was the teacher who made this class such a tedious experience.

Professor Snape was biased, impatient, unforgiving and had an obvious hatred for children regardless of house, gender, or ancestry. The only one he remotely fair to was Draco – his godson he'd learned later. Whyever he became a teacher was a mystery to everyone, only incompetence could possibly make him worse. However bad a teacher, though, the professor was a master of his trade – a fact that made his choice of profession even more astounding.

The first two weeks were challenging. Without proper knowledge of the castle, they more than once stumbled through empty corridors, hoping to find the correct classroom. Only the integrated map in 'Hogwarts: A History', Hermione's beloved book she always carried with her, saved them from getting lost completely. It was mainly due to the moving staircases; they seemed to always turn wherever you didn't want to go thus making it a real challenge to walk from one classroom to the next. The older students didn't have such a problem it seemed, as they never complained about the flying stairs.

In class, the four friends usually sat together. Draco always made sure, though, to put as much space between himself and Hermione, meaning that Harry and Neville chose the middle seats whereas Hermione chose to sit at the aisle and Draco right next to the windows – or wall if the room didn't have any windows.

Again, only Potion-Class was an exception; the students sat in pairs and Snape had made sure to mix the class to pair a Gryffindor with a Slytherin student. He knew, of course, of the mutual rivalry between both houses and the almost palpable hatred between lions and snakes – though most times it was a Slytherin who'd despise his Gryffindor partner, not the other way around. That was the exact reason for his choice of pairs. Only Draco – and indirectly Harry – got lucky enough to stay together as there were more students from Gryffindor than from Slytherin. Although luck certainly didn't play a big part in Snape's decision. Hermione was paired with Daphne Greengrass, a cold girl, never smiling, never even talking to Hermione. Neville's partner was Pansy Parkinson, the exact opposite of Daphne. She was always complaining in her shrill voice, about Neville, the ugly insect parts they had to cut or squash and the damp classroom that ruined her hair.

The other exception was the flying lesson as there wasn't even a classroom to begin with. It was the first one of the year, as the teachers had decided on starting the lesson a bit later after the students had settled in the school for a bit longer. It was an afternoon-lesson and the sun had already started to set as the students gathered around the teacher at one of the large schoolyards.

"I can't believe we're really going to learn how to fly," Harry whispered excitedly at his bushy-haired friend. "We're going to fly like the witches we know from fairy tales. On a real broom. Now we'd just need a hat like Professor McGonagall has."

The flying lesson was one Harry had looked forward too since the beginning of the year. The idea of cruising through the air was enticing to the boy. The freedom of flying was something he'd imagined more than once as a child, today it would become reality.

"Good afternoon class," the professor said to an excited audience. "I'm Professor Hooch and will be teaching you the art of flying. Flying is a difficult profession as you need to be strong in both body and mind yet, it can be one of the most rewarding magical branches. Used in both sports and common traversing, riding a broom displays a perfect combination of modern technology and traditional technique. In this lesson, you'll get the chance to learn the basics of flying. Don't be disappointed," she added at some loud groans from various students. "The basics are, after all, the fundament of mastery. Don't think that talent is exclusively for those who have it in their blood, it is the fruit of hard work. Professionals like 'the Talon' or the Irish Chaser Troy were once just where you are, children all green behind their ears; the former had started his career right here, under my tutelage and look where it got him. Years of relentless training showed him his way to the top of the league.

"I don't expect another prodigy so soon, but I believe that if you try hard enough, each and every one of you can have a run for a position on the Quidditch team as soon as you hit the second year. Now, grab a broom and form a line, Slytherins to the left, Gryffindors to the right."

Harry glanced at Hermione, flashing her a huge grin. He felt all giddy inside at the idea of flying and felt like sharing his excitement with everybody. And it was contagious, really, as most students rushed forward to grab a broom, yelling and laughing like in no other class before. A bunch of brooms was floating next to Professor Hooch, one for each student. They were nothing like the ordinary brooms Harry knew. Made of dark wood with even darker bristles and with an elegant design, they looked like hand-crafted masterpieces. They seemed useless for cleaning, bristles too compact in a cylindrical shape for less air-resistance, but that was not their purpose. The broomstick felt right in Harry's hand, neither too thin nor too thick. It made Harry wonder if they were charmed to fit the user's hand, but disregarded the thought quickly as he witnessed a Slytherin classmate with huge hands trying to handle his delicate broom.

There was no coordination whatsoever, students were almost trampling each other to get a broom. How Harry got one without any trouble he didn't know, but he cared little as his broom seemed to fit perfectly. There was no need to go back into the crowd for a better-suited broom. Soon most people have found a suited broomstick, even Hermione who had to change hers half a dozen times because they were all too large for her. Only two Slytherin boys had troubles, the one Harry saw earlier and his almost twin – they were both more than a head taller than Harry and twice as wide with hands as large as his head. No wonder they didn't find a suitable broom. Professor Hooch, however, had a solution for even those two. She simply summoned two larger brooms from the castle, probably made for third years or higher, and handed them over with a stern warning not to break them.

"And never try to enlarge a broom", she said, addressing the whole class. "The unexpected may occur to those who experiment with brooms without mastering the craft. Some achieved never-seen speeds only to have their brooms shattered right under them in mid-flight. Most times, though, the broom is just ruined to the point of not flying at all, which is truly a waste."

As the lines were finished, the practical part of the lesson started. But like every practical lesson, it started with yet another lecture.

"To create the connection between wizard and broom is the most important skill every aspiring flyer needs to learn. Without the connection, the broom is but a mindless tool, charmed to fly but without control. Your magic is what forces the broom under your control. Like a wild Gryphon you need to tame it, once the deed is done, though, it will be your most loyal follower. This will be the most primal part of my lesson. You need to reach out with your magic, feel the broom and channel your will into its core. Once you've connected with the broom, say 'up', firm and powerful. If the connection is finished, your broom will obey and jump into your hand.

"Now, this will come more instinctive to some of you and less to others. I can't be with each of you at once so I need you to help each other out, otherwise, none of you will get the chance to fly today. Who has already flown a broom?"

No one raised his hand.

"Aww, come on, I know it's essentially illegal for a minor to fly a broom outside of Hogwarts, but no one has cared for centuries. As long as muggles and Aurors don't see you, it's fine. I'd actually even expect you to train during Hollydays. Wouldn't want you to get out of shape, ne?"

This time almost all of Slytherin raised their hand and four Gryffindor students. The professor eyed the students suspiciously, especially the few Slytherins who hadn't raised their hand, then sighed.

"So, what's the chance of any Slytherin helping a Griffindor out?" she asked the rhetorical question. Everyone knew that the rivalry between the houses regarding Quidditch was unprecedented, especially between those two houses. No one would help each other and even if they would, the rest of the house would quickly bully them into not helping.

"Fine, let's see how you get along with these brooms, they are a lot less expensive than what you're used to, I expect. But sturdy as hell, survived 50 years of students and will survive 50 more."

After that, it was only a short step till the actual flying began.

"Just push off the ground as hard as you can, the broom will do everything else. If done correctly, you'll hover a few feet above the ground. Then you can start giving directions by pulling the broomstick. To speed up, just let your magic do the work. It's harder to explain than actually doing, so I think you'll be fine. Now off into the air you go."

That was the signal Harry had waited for. With a strong push, he transported both him and the broom into the air. He half expected to crash right down again, but to his surprise, his momentum stopped mid-air. It felt like sitting on a tree branch only without the tree. And without Aunt Marge's little dog-demon barking like crazy and trying to bite me.

Harry moved a bit on his broom, trying to get a feeling of how stable the stick was floating. And stable it was, never wavering once, even as he shifted his weight to the right and left. To his great surprise, he felt stable as well. There was no fear of slipping off the broom and falling, Harry felt comfortable like sitting in a chair. But this chair can fly.

And fly he did. First slowly, testing the waters – well, the air – with basic forward and sideward movements. He learned quickly that the broom could only move forwards and pulling the broomstick in one direction by leaning on one side would result in a curve.

As Harry grew more comfortable handling the broom, he also became bolder, starting to increase both his speed and hight. He was quickly joined by Draco and Neville, who both already had experience in flying. They were circling around him, not mockingly but prompting him to go yet a bit faster and even higher. They were laughing together as they flew above the school grounds. It was an exhilarating feeling of freedom and Harry felt great. There was no way, he'd ever give up flying. In the air, there were literally no borders, no restrictions, and no expectations. The professor didn't even give any rules about where to fly or not.

"You're a natural, Harry, did you know that," Draco said to his friend as they were watching the rest of the students below them. They were by far the highest up in the sky, 100 feet or more, and were enjoying the sight. For the first time, all of them had an idea of where Hogwarts really was. Sure, they'd known it was in Scotland, somewhere, but they could see the great lake now, stretching from the shore of the steep cliff on which the castle throned far till the horizon. It was surrounded by mountains, tall enough to see the snow-capped peaks even early in autumn. There was the forbidden forest at the foot of Hogwart's hill. A single hut stood right on its edge, and a huge field of - something, maybe pumpkins or giant melons separated it from the castle. A really steep path led downwards through the field.

A massive bridge led over the gorge that marked the end of the great lake and connected Hogwarts with whatever laid behind the next hill. It was a strange construct, a wooden arch bridge, though the construction nearly filled the entire ravine. And it was roofed.

"I don't care. This is great."

"It is." Neville agreed. "I h-hadn't expected Hogwarts t-to be so f-fascinating. I m-mean such an impressive c-castle and all. S-sure, the s-sight from the b-boat was magnificent, but t-this is even b-better."

On that, everyone agreed. The sight from the boat was breathtaking, especially since it had been night and the castle-lights had illuminated the school brilliantly. Yet it couldn't keep up with this bird's-eye view over almost the entire school and beyond. The school itself was beautiful, but so was the surrounding landscape. Together they made the picture perfect.

"Wait for me, please, I'm gonna check on Hermione," Harry said after a while. Enjoying the captivating sight, Harry had forgotten about the fourth member of his small circle of friends. He felt bad leaving her like this. Like Draco had said, Harry was a natural at flying, and both Draco and Neville had a lot of practice. Hermione had neither the superior experience nor the natural skill handling a flying broom, thus she was struggling with the exercise.

Swiftly returning to the ground, Harry quickly spotted his friend. His high position provided him with the perfect view over his classmates. Hermione was sitting on her broom half a metre in the air. She was slowly moving in circles, carefully navigating through the crowd to avoid crashing into her more reckless classmates. Harry waited for her to move to a less crowded area, then he slowly decreased hight until he reached Hermione's level.

"How are you doing with the broom, Hermione?"

To Hermione's credit, she didn't seem startled by his sudden appearance. She merely turned her head towards him, smiling.

"I'm doing great, I guess. It feels a little weird sitting above the ground but it's more comfortable than I had imagined."

"That's great. I'm sorry for leaving right away, but I was so excited."

"Don't apologise, there's nothing wrong with being excited. It is our first time flying, after all."

"True, but I also didn't wait if you needed any help."

"You're sweet, Harry," Hermione giggled. "But don't let me hold you back."

"You'd never hold me back. But you should really join us up there," he said and pointed to where Draco and Neville were waiting. "The view is brilliant. You can see the whole castle and the lake and the forbidden forest."

"I think I'd rather stay down here. I-, I don't really like high places…" Hermione said and looked away, embarrassed by her confession.

"Oh. But that's alright. We'll just have to explore the school-grounds by foot, someday." Harry said and moved to her other side so Hermione was facing him again.

"I'd love to. Just the four of us, going exploring."

"It will be a small adventure. It'll be fun."

They bickered around a little longer until Harry mentioned that Draco and Neville were still waiting for him. He didn't try to convince her to follow; she'd come when she was ready. And that was not on her very first day of flying. But he did coax her into flying at least a bit higher.

"Now, who wants to play tag?" Draco asked as Harry returned and both boys readily agreed. The rest of the lesson, they spent chasing each other through the air. It was fun and great practice. Harry lost most of the times to the more experienced flyers but didn't mind at all. He enjoyed his time flying. Whatever his future looked like, he decided, flying would definitely be a part of it.

The lesson continued till late in the evening – though it was less a lesson and more fooling around on their broom. Afterwards, the class went straight back to their respective common-room. Curfew was approaching slowly but steadily and neither wanted to spend any time at in detention, especially with the threat of spending time with the grumpy caretaker Filch and his terrifying cat.

The evenings were usually spent together doing something fun. There were no exams yet since they were only two weeks into the school year and the professors were generous and assigned little homework – aside from Professor Snape of course. Being the purebloods, Draco and Neville taught several games to Harry and Hermione and together they had enjoyed several matches of Wizards-Chess or Explosive-Snap. Usually, the other classmates would join in some games or initiate others; contact between the different years was limited though, despite practically living together. The Fifth-Years and higher appeared intimidating, and with the exception of the two prefects and the Headgirl, they were generally avoided by the first years. With the other years, it was rather the other way round. They would think it childish to hang out with 'little kids' or so they said.

The exception to this non-spoken rule were the Weasley twins, Fred and George. They mingled with every age-group and were notorious pranksters. And for some reason they sought Draco as they prime victim – behind their younger brother, that is. The pranks were all harmless and more annoying than humiliating. Also, they were never permanent or else Draco would have to spend longer than a few hours in the evening with strangely coloured hair, ranging from a brilliant baby-blue to bright orange. One day, after a notorious game of Wizards-Chess against Hermione, his king suddenly exploded after being check-mated in a cloud of multi-coloured dust replacing his usual well-combed, blond hair with a colour changing mob.

Despite his best efforts, Draco couldn't avoid all their pranks as they never assaulted him head-on. The twins were always very sneaky in their attempts, like with the chess pawn, and were never actually caught. However, everybody knew who the culprit was as they openly boasted with their success.

Today was nothing different. Returning from their flying lesson, the noise of a grunting pig sounded through the common room. There was no pig, of course, but a third or fourth-year student behaving like one. Literally. He was crawling on all fours through the room, grunting and oinking like an exceptionally miserable pig. He even had a pig's nose that seemed a bit too real to be just a mask.

"It is real," Fred – or was it George? – told the newcomers, correctly guessing their question. "There's even a fitting tail coming right out his butt."

"A masterpiece, don't you think, dear brother?"

"Of course. Only the best."

They are weird, Harry decided for himself and not for the first time. And a bit crazy as well.

Despite being the victim of many a prank, Draco was actually their greatest fan out of the first-year students. He never explained why, though, and Harry was really curious how one could actually like being pranked. He'd been on the receiving end too, once, and while it had been funny at first to have your book growing a tongue and trying to lick your face, it had started to really get on his nerves until he had eventually put the book away and had gone to sleep.

"Good ol' Jordan. He looks better now, don't you think. That nose goes quite well with his eyes. And the tail. Don't get me started on the tail."

"Don't you think you overdid it this time. I mean it's funny and stuff, but not for our 'pig' there. That's quite humiliating." Draco said and pointed to where the third-year student was trying wallow in imaginary mud.

"Nah, it's fine. He lost a bet and knew the stakes. An hour as a pig to test our new Animal-Pills. And they work great. You want one?"

"You got different ones?"

"Not yet, the pig's just our prototype. But we're planning to introduce Lion-Pills, Hippo-Pills and a pill for a Grindylow."

"A Grindylow? I need one of those. With breathing fire and everything?"

"If we can manage. It's still a bunch of work, though, and were trying not to burn anything own in the progress. We'll show you once it's finished."

"Thanks. I can't wait to try that."

As a reward for his enthusiasm, Draco did not get pranked this evening. That honour went to Ron, the unfortunate youngest Weasley.

Harry didn't know Ron well. He was a fellow classmate, but they hadn't spoken much. He usually hung out with Seamus and Dean and was terribly afraid of spiders – a fact that his twin-brothers were well aware of and shamelessly used against him. Also, he seemed quite a decent flyer, Harry found out earlier the day. Despite having no former experience – he didn't raise his hand at Professor Hooch's request – he seemed to be quite comfortable on his broom. Ron hadn't flown as high as Harry, but he had seen the red-head speeding around with his friends. Aside from that, Ron was essentially a stranger like everyone else in Gryffindor, except for his three friends. And the twins.

The rest of the evening was rather uneventful and they decided to go to bed early after their exhausting flying class.

It was two days later that the whispers started. Harry realized quickly that something was going on when the Professor's table stayed empty throughout the entire breakfast. That had never happened before. It was nothing new, that Professor Snape didn't appear at any meal, except for a special occasion or just to give detention to students who weren't behaving. Other than that, most professors regularly ate at the Great Hall. Not today, it seemed. The Professor's table stayed empty the entire morning and during lunch and even at dinner. And the longer the teachers stayed away, the faster the rumour mill was spinning.

"They are planning a change in the OWL and NEWT System."

"No, only the Wizengamot can decide a change."

"It's there must be a thief. The Armour suits on the fourth floor are all gone."

"That's probably Peeves being a troublemaker again."

"Maybe Peeves died?"

"He's a ghost, idiot, he can't die. Even if, that would be rather a time to celebrate."

"Maybe a student died?"

"Or a teacher?"

"Or Filch's cat. What a tragedy that would be."

For the first time, the students cursed the weekend. There were no lessons, meaning the teachers were all but unapproachable, especially since they apparently didn't want to inform the students about what was going on. Also, the Daily-Prophet was only delivering the newspaper from Monday to Friday.

There was nothing else to do but wait.

When Monday came, breakfast was as lively as Harry had never seen before. It was like every student woke up extra early to not miss the revelation. The teacher's table was occupied, again, including Professor Snape, so everybody knew that there would be something important.

It came in form of the daily newspaper. Dozens of owls swarmed the Great Hall like every morning, indicating the arrival of the Daily Prophet. About half the students had a subscription to the newspaper, including Draco and Neville.

Without the need to urge them, they wordlessly passed the newspaper to Harry and Hermione after scanning the first article. Immediately Harry's gaze fell on the prominent frontline.

Sirius Black has broken out of Azkaban Prison

A/N: Thank you for over 350 followers! I really appreciate the support.

Special Thanks to cdunn2010 for pointing out some inconsistencies with the books.

- Fixed the issue with Krum (he's too young to be a professional flyer, now substituted by Troy) and the not yet existing Blast-Ended Skrewt (changed to the Grindylow).

- Fixed some grammar- and spelling mistakes