Disclaimer: I have never played Quidditch, though I am reverse-engineering Remnant the Board Game, which I have also never played.

Ruby Rose looked at the broomstick lying innocently atop the grass. Its wooden shaft was long and only had one or two knots marring its smoothness; a bundle of stiff yellow bristles was held tightly to one end with a few loops of short, thick rope.

"...I have some concerns," she said, very calmly.

"What?" The spiky-haired witch next to her blinked. "What on earth are you talking about?"

"You want me to place a stick between my legs and use it to fly. I'll accept that, magically, this is possible, but..." Ruby gestured at the thing. "It doesn't seem like there's... it just seems... incomplete, somehow. And uncomfortable."

"There are built in cushioning charms, miss Rose. You needn't worry about bristles in your bum."

"That's... not exactly what I was concerned about, Madam Hooch. I'm looking at this and it seems like there's no consideration for aerodynamics or multi-axis rotation-"

Madam Hooch rolled her yellow eyes. "This from the woman who fell six stories with a scythe."

"Hey, Crescent Rose is designed to endure high stress! And actually, that's a good example, I know her in and out. This thing just seems... rickety."

"Miss Rose, your opinions aside, I do need to teach a class how to fly, and I would rather you not frighten your fellow students."

Ruby blinked, glancing at the small group of preteens in robes staring awkwardly at her. "Oh. Right. Sorry about that."

"Mmm-hmm." Hooch gave her one last pointed look before turning to the rest of the class. "Now then! I think we should get started. Some of you may have flown on broomstick before but, since some of you most certainly have not, I must insist you follow my instructions exactly. Nobody kicks off until I say so, and nobody should waste my time with foolish stunts."

Her yellow eyes narrowed. "And yes, I am including miss Rose in that statement."

"No foolish stunts." Ruby nodded firmly. "Got it."

Madam Hooch kept her eyes on her for a moment, before turning back to class. "The first thing you'll need to do is hold your hand over your broom and say 'up' in a firm tone."

Obediently, the children held their hand over the wooden rods, their cacophony of high pitched syllables shortly followed by their sticks rolling or hopping about. Madam Hooch started striding between them, giving small hints of advice to each student that stumbled. Ruby quirked a brow as Ron's broom nearly hit his face, before warily extending her hand over her own broomstick.

"Up."

The wood hit her hand like an overeager puppy-in fact, almost exactly like an overeager puppy. For a moment, a brief and mad moment, she fumbled with the wood, expecting it to suddenly metamorphose into a black and white corgi.

When her grip firmed, however, she was left staring at the same knotted rod she had seen at the start. The familiar feeling faded, replaced by a more relaxed sensation.

"Something wrong?"

Ron's question shook her out of her shock. "Uh... no. Maybe. I don't..." She paused. "Can I try your broomstick for a moment, I need to see something."

The boy glanced around, noting a few students still trying to get their broomsticks, and handed it over with a shrug. "I'll need it back, of course."

"Right." She let Ron's broomstick fall, then held her hand over it. "Up."

Again, that same feeling-a surge of happy service, followed by... quietness.

"...Huh. Okay." Ruby handed the broom back to Ron. "That's... weird. I think I'll be talking to Hooch after class."

"If you want me to teach you how to charm your scythe to fly," Hooch said dryly over her shoulder, "the answer is going to be no."

Ruby blinked, looking at her. "What?"

"I've heard enough horror stories about flying swords, and I'm not going to be known as the one that made that thing fly. I don't think I could stop you, mind, but you're going to have to figure it out on your own."

"That's... not exactly what I was going to talk to you about-"

"Well, whatever it is, it will have to wait till after class." Madam Hooch looked across the yard. "Alright, everyone, mount your broomsticks. I'll be coming around again to check on your grip..."

Ruby stared at the wood in her hands for a few moments, unnerved, before following the instruction.

That evening, Harry had listened with genuine interest to Ruby's considerations on the nature and methodology of broomstick flight, nodding along as she mused over the difference of control compared to her usual acrobatics and the gentle but firm way Madam Hooch had directed the class. It didn't sound quite as exciting as the stories of her time on duty, but he could not help looking forward to the next day, when his own flying lessons would begin. Indeed, there was a palpable air of anticipation all through the Gryffindor common room that morning, only further augmented by the wondrous and quite possibly fabricated stories that the older years gave of their own death-defying stunts.

"Of course," Fred (maybe George) quipped, "we'll all be watching you, Harry. What with what Ruby pulled, you've got to have a few tricks up your sleeve."

"There's an opening for Seeker on the Gryffindor Quidditch team," George (if it wasn't Fred) added. "No pressure, really, but if you can prove yourself-"

"What's Quidditch?" Harry foolishly asked.

Eight hours later, hand wrapped around a thick rod of wood, his head was still roiling with images of witches and wizards throwing balls at each other from broomsticks and various terms he didn't quite understand. He was only shook out of it when Neville Longbottom, of all students, went rocketing into the walls of Hogwarts with a wild scream.

His eyes followed the boy's descent from broom to ground, and managed a tiny flinch at the ending. "Bad landing strategy there. Probably has a broken wrist."

Hermione looked at him aghast. "Neville lost control of his broom, and all you can say is 'bad landing strategy?'"

Harry blinked. "Well... it was? I mean, yes, it has to have been horrible for him, but do you really think Madam Hooch would let me splint his wrist?"

The teacher in question rushed over to Neville and examined him carefully. "...yes, you do have a broken wrist, don't you..."

She gave Harry an odd look, much to his confusion.

"...I'll be taking mister Longbottom to the hospital wing. Nobody is to take off until I return." Madam Hooch wrapped a protective arm around Neville, gave Harry one last pointed look, and walked away.

For a few moments, the gathered first years stood around, awkwardly holding their brooms and staring at each other.

Harry cleared his throat. "So... about that sports team-"

"Oh, look!" Draco cried, plucking something from the ground with a flourish. "Longbottom's dropped his remembrall!" He held up the smoke-filled glass ball with wicked glee, looking around the gathered students for some reaction.

Harry glanced around himself. His fellow gryffindors were not amused, but how angry they were seemed to vary. The slytherins, on the other hand, seemed to range from gleeful spite to awkward unwillingness to speak up.

"...Well, yes. He did." Harry shrugged. "What's your point?"

Draco gave him an utterly condescending look, as though his point should have been immediately obvious.

"No, seriously, I don't get why this is a big thing. We just give it back to him when he gets back."

"What does a wizard need with a remembrall?" Draco huffed mockingly. "I think I'll do Longbottom a favor, and throw this up on the roof!" He hopped on his broom and started hovering, still displaying the globe in his hand.

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure that counts as stealing," Harry noted dryly. "Come on, give it back."

"Why don't you come up here and make me, Potter?" Draco spiraled lazily upward. "Or are you too scared to do anything without your big sister backing you up?"

For a moment, there was a tense silence.

Then Harry's broomstick jumped to his hand.

Hermione gasped. "Harry, no! You'll get hurt, or detention, or-"

"My landing strategy is rated for two stories," Harry reminded her, mounting his broom. "And I can handle detention."

"But-!"

Hermione's protests were cut off when Harry shot into the air, speeding toward Draco so quickly that he could see the whites of his widening eyes. The blonde boy all but reared back, flinging the glass sphere across the courtyard-Harry's eyes were already tracking it even as he swerved, leaning into the broomstick and holding one hand out. Inch above the ground, so close that the grass tickled his skin, the remembrall landed in his grasp.

He zoomed back to Draco, tossing it to his other hand. "Ha."

"MISTER POTTER!"

Harry blanched, looking down to see professor McGonagall storming across the courtyard. "Aheh. Um. Can you... not tell Ruby about this?"

The professor's eyes were stern. "I think she will want to hear exactly what happened here."

Harry swallowed.

Ruby rubbed her forehead with a sigh. "You've put me in a bit of a difficult position, professor."

"If you wish to contest my quidditch recommendation-"

"Oh, no, it's not that. Getting onto a sports team will be good for Harry. He'll have something in his social life, it can only do wonders for his physical education, and maybe he'll achieve recognition beyond being just 'the boy who lived.'" She shrugged as she walked alongside the witch. "I mean I'd have liked it if you consulted me beforehand, yes, but I do approve of this decision."

Professor McGonagall gave Ruby an odd look. "Then... what is the issue?"

"The issue is that he did break the rules. I have to make sure he realizes that's wrong, while not discouraging him from this quidditch thing. Discipline and support him, at the same time."

"Ah." The witch nodded thoughtfully. "Yes, that is a delicate balance. I apologize, I'm a head of house. I should have remembered that."

"I can do it, mind you-I raised the boy, that gives me a few special options." Ruby held up her hand, pausing at the entrance to the great hall. "I just want us to be clear on this: What happens next is entirely your fault."

Professor McGonagall took a moment to consider that.

"...What exactly, are you going to do?"

Ruby smiled innocently. "Congratulate him, of course."

"...Aaaaaaah." The professor nodded. "My advice would be to wait until everyone is seated, then."

"Good idea." Ruby stepped aside, allowing the last few students to file in for the midday feast. "Maximum impact."

"Indeed. Good day, miss Rose."

The professor made her way to the head table briskly, managing to keep her face straight as she sat down. Ruby took a moment to look over the tables, counting the number of students eating their lunch, before confidently strolling down the great hall and turning to walk the length of the gryffindor table, her eyes fixed on a mop of dark hair.

"...still can't believe that professor McGonagall would reward such blatant rule-breaking," Hermione grumbled.

Harry shrugged. "I guess being talented has its perks."

Ruby stepped behind him, took a long, slow breath...

...and then enveloped Harry in a crushing hug. "Oh, my little bro is all grown up and competing in school sports already!"

"Agh what sis-?!" The poor boy tried to flail his arms, pinned as they were beneath Ruby's sleeves.

"Oh my gosh I don't know if I could possibly be prouder of you!" Somehow she managed to squeeze Harry even more, producing a desperate squeak. "I remember when you used to run around in your diapers and try to catch the matron's feet at the orphanage, but look at you now!"

Hermione leaned away from the pair, her eyes darting between them nervously as Harry's face started to shift to gryffindor red. "Um..."

"Chasing matrons in his nappys?" one of the Weasley twins asked, leaning in.

"Yeah, he was a real terror when he started walking." Ruby released the boy, allowing him to gasp in a breath of air as she mussed up his hair with aggressive affection.

"You wouldn't happen to have pictures?" the other Weasley twin inquired.

"No, I left my photo album in the Hufflepuff dorm, sad to say. It really is a shame-I have a lot of pictures of our days at the orphanage. You would not believe what I had to go through to get him where he is today!"

Ruby smiled, gently gripping Harry's head and bringing it face to face with her. "And we're going to have a lot more training to do, your landing strategy isn't rated for quidditch yet!"

"It can't be that bad-"

"The hoops are thirty to fifty feet off the ground. Add in a good ten feet for stunts, and that's sixty feet at the most." Ruby shook her head. "Nope, you're getting schooled hard at our next training session. Ooooo, I can't wait! I think I'll break out the padded suit again!"

Harry paled. "Uh, I think we can practice without-"

"NONSENSE!" Ruby proclaimed cheerfully, releasing Harry's skull. "You'll be wearing the whole thing every morning until I think you're ready! Safety first, after all!"

"What's this padded suit like?" Hermione asked. Harry shot her a betrayed look.

"I made it myself! Sure, the torso piece is a little bulky, and the arm and leg guards look like marshmallows, and the undersuit might seem to be plastic tubing, and maybe painting a smiley face on the helmet was a bit of an impulse-"

Harry jammed a cookie into her mouth. "SO. ANYWAY. It's really not that important. I mean, it's not like she's training anybody else... except Nym..."

Ruby swallowed and smiled. "Oh, no, I mean I can't teach everyone. But that doesn't mean that people can't come and watch me train you! I'm sure you'd love to show off the suit to the entire student body!"

Her smile grew sly. "After all, being talented... Has. Its. Perks. Doesn't it, Harry?"

Harry cringed.

The Weasley twins stood up and applauded.

"BRAVO!"

"BRAVISSIMO!"

"ENCORE, ENCORE!"

"AUTHOR! AUTHOR!"

They started conjuring up roses and tossing them at Ruby, who caught them and bowed with a flourish of her cape. She gave Harry one final headpat with a giggle and skipped off toward the Hufflepuff table.

Hermione blinked. "Er... what just happened?"

Harry sunk into himself. "I just got ripped into for breaking rules, that's what happened..."