Staring longingly out the window of the Charms classroom window, Max Grant was daydreaming about flying around the Quidditch pitch already; and it was only the first day back. He wasn't allowed to fly on his broom outside of Hogwarts cause he lived with muggles; he was a muggleborn, and proud of it! He was looking forward to feeling the wind in his hair, his heart racing with adrenaline, the crowds chanting his name, the sweat on his brow, and the sky beneath his feet. Smiling to himself, he gave a happy sigh and then reluctantly focused back on the Charms professor.

It was the first day back to class at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and Max was beginning his sixth year as a Gryffindor full of spirit. Naturally a cheerful person, he was looking forward to the upcoming year; mostly for the chance to fly again. In fact… perhaps he could get a quick fly around the pitch during his next class? It wasn't like he hadn't skipped a class to fly before after all. Nodding and grinning to himself, he made a resolution to skip Transfiguration and take a couple laps on his broomstick.

As Charms ended, he ignored the knowing look his fellow Gryffindor mates gave him and quickly sprinted down the corridors; almost running a sleepy looking Ravenclaw boy over. Looking left and right, he grinned and journeyed to the Quidditch pitch. Breathing in the left over summer air, Max hummed a tune under his breath as his pushed the door to the broom shed open. Spying his broom, he grinned widely and grabbed ahold of it. Relishing in the feeling of the wood between his fingers and that special flight magic humming around the magical broomstick, he felt like he had come home.

With broom in hand, he practically ran to the pitch. Climbing onto the broom, he kicked off from the ground and shot up into the air. Laughing with joy, he made a few laps around the pitch to warm up. He then pretended to play a mock game of Quidditch with himself, rolling and dodging this way and that. Absently he thought to himself that he could have could have gotten the team together, but he felt that sometimes he needed some time to himself. Usually a social person, some might be surprised to hear that sort of comment. But, although he was outgoing, he still had the desire for solitude like everyone else from time to time.

Reluctantly, he cast a tempus time spell and realized he had been out flying for about an hour. Making his descent he flew towards the locker rooms. He was sweaty as hell and should probably clean up before he returned to the castle. After putting his broom away, he headed towards the showers to clean up.

Max dried his hair off with a red and gold towel after exiting the Quidditch shower rooms, steam billowing out behind him as he pushed the door to the locker room open. Throwing open his locker, a letter flutter out of it and onto the ground. Raising an eyebrow, he then blushed when a thought crossed his mind. Was it a love letter? Flipping it over, he noticed a red wax seal with an 'X' stamped into it. Huh, it didn't really seem like a love letter anymore. Shrugging, he put it back in his locker and began to get dressed.

He quickly threw on his white undershirt and his black trousers. Hanging the damp towel around his neck, he pulled on his white button-up uniform shirt; pushing up the sleeves up to his elbows. Humming a random tune under his breath, he buttoned up his shirt, leaving the top two buttons undone, and tossed on his black and red school robes. Folding the towel, he set it on the bench in the middle of the locker room; still in awe of the house elves that just popped out of nowhere to do a bit of tidying up.

Dressed and clean, he pushed the door that led towards the East Gate of Hogwarts open; suddenly pausing. Smacking a hand to his forehead loudly, he turned around and made his way back to the locker. He had forgotten his tie and the letter. Pulling it around his neck, he made a simple knot and then brushed a hand through his messy, damp hair. Sticking the letter in his robe pocket, he casually started walking back towards the school from the Quidditch field. Climbing the steps up towards the great castle, a content smile made its way onto Max's face.

As he entered the castle, a stern and uptight voice called out from down the hall.

"Mr. Grant."

Looking up, Max saw his Transfiguration professor and head of house. Gulping loudly, he lowered his gaze and reluctantly made his way over to the older woman. Standing in front of her, he knew what was coming.

"Mr. Grant, I noticed you weren't in my class this afternoon." She began, adjusting her glasses. "And it appears… as though you have taken a shower? Was this perhaps because you were engaging in an activity which I have warned you before is against the rules to be doing unsupervised?" Eyebrow raised, she looked up at him through her glasses; he was quite a few inches taller than she was, but her presence seemed to shrink him.

Fidgeting, the Gryffindor boy cleared his throat awkwardly.

"Er, well, you see, I was, uh… sick! That's right! I had a fever and the healer told me to take a shower to cool off." He bumbled out an excuse.

"The healer, hm? I see. And you don't mind if I visit her to verify this story?" She asked slyly.

"Uh, well, it wasn't Madam Pomfrey, it was Gallager. Zack Gallager. Her, uh, assistant?" He suddenly remembered that his fellow teammate was doing his apprenticeship in the Hospital Wing.

"I see." She pursed her lips. "Next time I see Mr. Gallager, I will be sure to authenticate your story."

Turning on her heal, the professor whipped out of the hall and down another corridor.

Letting out a breath of relief, Max then began to panic.

"I gotta find Zack, quick." He bit his lip and began to climb the stairs two-at-a-time.

There was only one place he would be at a time like this.

The Hospital Wing.

Skidding to a stop, the Gryffindor athlete almost tripped over his own feet in front of the Hospital Wing. Smoothing his hair back he cleared his throat and peered into the white room full of hospital beds.

"Gallager? Oi, Gallager? Zack?" Max called out in a semi-whisper.

"You're not injured, so why are you here, Grant?" A deep voice called out from behind him.

Jumping in surprise, Max put a hand over his heart reflexively.

"Geez, you scared me." He laughed.

The boy known as Zack mearly raised an inquiring eyebrow.

"Okay, okay, no small talk, I get it, I need a favor." Max sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck.

Zack sighed and shook his head.

"I told you, I can't keep covering for you like this, Grant."

"Oh, come one, the professor is breathing down my neck this time."

"You say that every time."

"Well…" Max shuffled his feet back and forth, rocking on his heels, trying to think of an excuse nervously.

Sighing again, Zack pulled out a pink slip from his robe pocket.

"Fine, just take it. And quit skipping class to practice alone." The other Gryffindor said pointedly.

"Worried that I'll surpass you, Captain?" Max said jokingly.

The other's eyes narrowed.

"Er, right, well, I'll just be going then!" Max waved and sprinted out of the Hospital Wing before Zack could change his mind.

Chuckling to himself in relief, he stuffed the pink slip in his pocket to give to the professor next time he was interrogated. Hearing a crumple of paper against paper, he gave a confused look. Ah, that was right, he had gotten that letter earlier. Pulling the letter out of his pocket he impulsively opened it immediately, not even bothering to check for jinxes or curses; sometimes he trusted too easily.

「The game has begun」

Was this a prank? Or perhaps it was a challenge from the Slytherin Quidditch team? A rare frown crossed Max's face as he re-read the words over and over. How did they get into the Gryffindor locker room? And why only leave a letter? Was this a new kind of intimidation tactic? Max crushed the letter in his fist, irritation rising. Those slimy snakes, no good ever came from the students in green. Normally, Max was kind to all, but he couldn't help but be wary of the snake house. Taking a breath, he calmed himself down. Opening the envelope to put the letter back inside, he realized he missed the smaller note within it.

It was the name of a curse.

A dark curse.

One that he wanted desperately to forget.

Swallowing harshly, he looked around himself to make sure no one had saw.

The game truly had begun.