A/N: I know that it should be sherbet lemons, but i think lemon drops sound better. One thing that the US books did better.


Chapter 7: Brooms and Lemon Drops

I pair with Hermione in Herbology. Isobel MacDougal had apparently been friends with Michael Corner since before Hogwarts, so they paired together. There is an odd number of each house, so I elected to be odd with Hermione. Once our earmuffs are securely in place, we set about re-potting mandrakes, which whine loudly as they are removed from the soil. Quite why we are helping them grow bigger, I've no idea.

The earmuffs themselves are a work of genius. They cut out the sound from the mandrakes, most of it anyway, but allow for voices to pass through uninhibited. They are charmed in large quantities by minimum wage factory workers who don't really want to be there. My particular pair were created by a man who was ecstatic to be working there. A werewolf by the name of Lance Carlson. From what I understand, it's very difficult for werewolves to find work.

"How was your first lesson?" I ask Hermione, who launches into an explanation of how to perform a transfiguration. Each and every step she took to perform the spell and what sounds to be the exact speech Professor McGonagall would have given. All this whilst trying to re-pot a mandrake.

Further down the table, Charlie Weasley's brother, Ronald, is talking to Seamus Finnegan about me. "Did you see the scar?" He says, glancing my way. I turn my attention back to the mandrakes.

"Not the best looking things, are they?" I grin and wave my mandrake near Hermione's head. I was given the fat one of the bunch.

"Just re-pot it so it stops crying." She wrinkles her nose as she smiles. I drop the wrinkled plant-baby into the pot, covering it's head with soil.

"Looking forward to broom practice?" I ask, she shakes her head. "Afraid of heights?" she nods. I don't really know enough of anything to try and lay her fears to rest. James' had attempted to tweak one of his brooms in an attempt to make it go faster. Somehow I don't think this knowledge will help Hermione.


"Hold your right hand over your broom and firmly say 'up'." Madam Hooch watches us like a hawk.

"Up!" We call out. The rickety broom beside me jumps into my hand.

55 years old. Beech wood for the handle, the twigs are all from separate trees, they spent a few years sitting in a bucket inside a broom factory in Cornwall. The broom, whilst well put together at the start, is battered and broken from years of abuse. I'm not entirely confident in it's ability to remain airborne any longer. The handle has apparently been enchanted to float, but more of a 'floating in water' than 'hovering in air' sort of thing; Buoyant sounds right. The twigs act as the propulsion, pushing the vehicle through the air. Upon closer inspection of the twigs, they appear to be covered in a reddish-brown smoke.

The rest of the students are having different degrees of success. The whole year group has assembled for the lesson, the upper years that have family in the group are allowed to watch. Hermione's broom took a couple of 'ups' to obey her, she looks nervous. I sweep my eyes across the Slytherin group and lock eyes with a very smug looking Draco Malfoy. I smile at him and wave my broom. He smiles and looks away – far too proper to be seen smiling in public.

Madam Hooch walks down the parting between the lines, showing everyone how to correctly mount and grip their brooms. Whilst in wait, I step over my broom and hold it the same way 347 students have before me. Draco's smirk vanishes when Madam Hooch explains that he's been doing it wrong for years. I can't find it in myself to feel sorry for him.

"Now. When I say so, I want you all to give a firm kick off the ground, hover in the air for a moment before leaning forward and touching down again." I see that Neville is looking incredibly worried, but apparently unaware of the burgundy smoke surrounding his broom. "On the sound of my whistle!" Neville suddenly leaps up into the air. "Get back down here!" Madam Hooch shouts, but Neville's broom doesn't do anything of the sort. He corkscrews into the air and rockets straight towards the castle. I wince as he smacks into the wall quickly before crumpling onto the floor. In a truly school children manner, we rush over to our fallen peer and form a circle around him as Madam Hooch kneels beside him, helping him to his feet. "Don't move. Don't even think about flying. If I see one broom in the air, you'll be out of Hogwarts faster than you can say 'Quidditch'!" With one final glare, she guides Neville, who is holding his arm, towards the castle.

I crouch next to where he landed and retrieve the strange, ornate sphere he'd dropped. A Remembrall. The smoke turns red when the holder has forgotten something. Brand new, purchased for 5 galleons by Augusta Longbottom; Neville received it this morning. It's filled with smoke from burning cherry wood when they build them.

"That's Neville's Remembrall." A boy from Gryffindor says, Dean I think. I see Draco reaching his hand out towards it and take a step away from him. I'm now painfully aware that everyone is looking at me like I'm about to slay Voldemort with the bloody Remembrall. I hand it to Dean.

"Make sure he gets it back, yeah?" I say, he nods, accepting the orb.

Ignoring the stares, I pick up the even more battered broom that Neville had been using. It's dead. Where as the other brooms have their unhealthy brown haze, this one is dead. The handle splintered as soon as Neville crashed into the castle. Better the broom dies that Neville.


After a mind numbing history lesson taught by a ghost, Penelope and Keith collect us to escort us to dinner. I've sort of gotten the hang of where things are now, Keith told me that maps aren't issued because classrooms move around a lot. I'm still not sure if he meant the teachers reassign their rooms, or if the rooms move themselves.

We had potions with Hufflepuff this morning. It very quickly became clear that Professor Snape doesn't like me at all. Glaring at me from the very start, firing questions at me and being down right foul. "Clearly fame isn't everything." He'd said. As infuriating as it was, I kept my mouth shut so to not lose further points for Ravenclaw.

I break from my thoughts as we arrive in the Great Hall. Keith makes a joke about shepherding sheep before sitting down. He intrigues me. Whereas Penelope is very up beat, rule abiding and enthusiastic as a prefect, Keith is not. Although that isn't to say he isn't a good prefect, as he is, he just has a very different style. More down to Earth.

After the first broom practice, I was asked to return the brooms to a broom cupboard, I found out what the students use the cupboards for in great detail unfortunately. I sit down a few feet to Anthony's left. We've not spoken much outside of 'Good morning;. Hedwig lands on the bench beside me, nuzzling her head again me until I stroke the feathers on her back. She hops onto my bag so that she can see over the table at the hall.

"Michael." He looks up from his food. "Why does everyone stick to the house tables?" I ask, he cranes his neck to look at the hall behind him.

"Uh … I suppose you see the members of your house every day." He turns back to me. "So your friends are composed of your own house generally rather than the others?" He says uncertainly. "There isn't really a rule against sitting at other tables. Unless you're in Slytherin." He adds with a smile.

"Mister Potter." Speak of the Devil and he shall appear. I turn to face Snape.

"Professor?" He glares at me.

"The Headmaster wishes to speak with you in his office." He drawls.

"Thank you, sir." Hedwig steps down to the bench, I shoulder my bag and stand up beside the potions master.

"Well?" He asks after staring at me for a while.

"Could you show me the way to the Headmaster's office, please?" I ask through gritted teeth.

"Could you not find your own way?" He sneers at me. I slowly exhale. There are many hexes that he is intimately familiar with being hit by that I'd love to throw in his face right now.

"No, sir." I say, staring defiantly at him, He smirks victoriously. Should I? "It is only my third day after all." The smile drops from his face as I retort. That felt good.

"15 points for your cheek." He strides towards the door. "10 further points for your lack of shoes."

I allow myself a small smile as I trail behind him. Worth it.


"Thank your for escorting Mister Potter." Dumbledore says to Snape. He was waiting for us in front of a large stone gargoyle at the end of a long corridor. Snape nods and whisks himself away, cloak billowing behind him. Arse. "Lemon drop." The gargoyle turns sideways to reveal a set of stairs. "Did you have enough to eat? I had asked Professor Snape to wait." I snort.

"As if he'd listen." I say as we arrive in his office. I blot out the amazing sight to continue my speech. "Do you know what he did? He degraded me in the middle of the Great Hall. Who even does that? It would be bad enough him doing it in a lesson, which he did, or in private, but in front of the whole school? Despicable and unprofessional." I lower myself into the armchair in front of the large desk as Dumbledore sits opposite whilst I ignore everything the office and chair are telling me. "I understand that he hated James, I've seen and felt every single spell he threw through his wand. I get it, he was a bully, but that doesn't excuse him transferring those grudges onto me at all. What have I done to him? I've been polite, I've paid attention in the one lesson he's taught me for. I was even actively trying to not tread on his toes because of the animosity. I can pull the memories from my head for you. I've seen Lily do it a hundred times." I recline into the soft chair, sighing. "I just … don't understand."

"Lemon drop?" He offers after taking one himself. I smile and accept the lemony sweet.

"Thank you." We sit in silence, enjoying the fizz. "Your office is really cool by the way. The rug, 213 year old Egyptian wool. Brought in by Armando Dippet. Very nice."

"I don't think anybody has ever called my office 'cool'. Thank you." He smiles, looking over his many trinkets. "Rest assured that I will be having a serious discussion with Severus in regards to his treatment of you." He says seriously. "Your speech has raised a fair few questions."

"Please, ask away." I gesture for him to continue.

"But firstly I will choose to deal with Severus rather than dwell on him here."

"I've had enough of him for one day." I nod.

"Quite. Now, you refer to your parents as Lily and James, May I ask why?"

"It's to do with how I receive information from things." I gesture to his dish of lemon drops. "May I?"

"Please do." I help myself to another.

"When I touch things, I get names. Who has touched is, who made it, anyone who it has ever belonged to. This usually excludes middle names for whatever reason. Wands are no different. James Charlus Potter. Lily Marie Potter nee Evans. To me, they are Lily and James, taken from the world far too young. They are still very much my parents, but their names are their names." I shake my head. "That probably doesn't help much. To me, you are Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore. I want to call you Albus."

"I believe I understand." He nods slowly. "You may call me Albus if you wish." He smiles. "You mentioned that you knew of the spells James used on Severus?"

"I know the wand's life. Everything from sitting in it's box in Ollivander's to brushing his teeth and tormenting Snape."

"Snape?"

"More polite than Snivellus." I grin cheekily.

"And the same holds true for Lily?" I nod. "You said you could perform the memory extraction charm."

"When I first cast the levitation charm, it held a certain familiarity to me. The kindn that only comes with practice." I explain.

"And you can replicate any of these spells?"

"Maybe. I was worked up when I said that." I hike my knees up onto the chair. "Thank you for the book, it prepared me for a lot of the staring."

"You are quite welcome." He smiles. "Am I to assume you can absorb books?" I smile.

"Yeah." It's awesome. "Although if a Gemino charm is used to create the copy, I don't think it would work. The book you gave me was duplicated with an animated quill."

"A much more common way of doing so, you will be happy to know." He smiles. "How have you found your times here at Hogwarts?"

"Amazing for the most part. I feel like I've aged 50 years since I set foot on the train. I'm fairly certain I've started puberty and the food is far, far better than I'm used to." I list, he nods slowly as he absorbs it.

"Do you wish to speak with the school nurse about..."

"No. Nope." I shake my head vigorously. "I've seen what young people do behind closed doors." I shudder. "I don't think I want to know how the whole 'broom closet thing started." A woman in one of the painting lets out an unladylike snort before covering her mouth with her hand.

"How has your ability effected your time here?"

"There is so much here." I say. "Everything I touch is saturated with memories and magic. I've started to see ghosts too. Not the normal kind mind you, but an ethereal visage of an objects history. A ghost will rise out of a fork or a door and play out something from the history."

"This happens so your eyes can see it rather than in your head?" I nod.

"It's also shown me the demise of the fat friar and Sir Nicolas from Gryffindor. They seem to know that I'm seeing them differently, they look at me strangley."

"Interesting." He says quietly.

"I've started to see a smoky aura around some things too. Brooms were the first." I say.

"Smoke?" He leans forward onto his desk. "Could you describe it? Smoke like that from a fire? Or a more foggy, liquid smoke?"

"More of a glowing aesthetic I'd say."

"Are there any objects in this room with the smoke?" He presses. I turn to look at his shelves.

"I have to look for it." I pick up another lemon drop and walk to the nearest shelf. "Like trying to spot something from the corner of your eye." I crouch to see the bottom shelf. Strange orbs and spindly instruments that whirr and hiss, performing some function. I straighten up and look on the eye-level shelf. "I think it's magic." I say louder so he can hear. "Neville's broom was when I picked it up. The buoyancy enchantment had been completely destroyed and without the handle to tie it all together, the twigs lost their power and now it's just fire wood." I lift up a thing silver arm on a small device, it detaches with a soft pop. I quickly lay it on the shelf, hoping that Albus didn't notice. It's just an overly complex clock, a gift from Professor McGonagall for Albus' 100th birthday. "Ah, this one." I set my eyes on an intricately cared golden cube floating above a disc of wood. A light grey aura surrounds the cube. Albus stands beside me as I reach out for the cube.

"It musn't be touched." He warns, I dip my finger into the smoke.,

"A monitor." I say. "Specifically for the anti-broom ward around Hogwarts." The smoke doesn't interact wit h my finger at all. "Can you explain what a ward is exactly?"

"A permanent charm or enchantment encompassing an area is probably the best way to describe them to you." He says after a moments thought.

"And this monitors the one that stops broom invaders." I pluck the cube from the air. "It can be picked up." I smirk at his shocked face. "You just didn't think it could." I hold the cube in front of my eyes. "Carved in 647AD by a Goblin named Ironjaw. Later given to Godric Gryffindor as a peace treaty between a Goblin clan, who's name I cannot pronounce, and Godric. It sat in this office for 600 years before it was enchanted by Iyan Tiber to monitor the anti-broom ward." I drop the cube into his hand.


A/N: I'm attempting to build this odd relationship between Dumbledore and Harry. Offering a lemon drop after his rant to diffuse the tension for instance.

And i've now typed up all of my paper notes, so the next chapter might be delayed a wee bit. Let me know what you think. Enjoy!