The weekend passed quickly after the confrontation with Fred and George. The twins would wink conspiratorially at her whenever they passed each other or saw each other in the common room. Ron immediately feared for his safety, and took to avoiding the twins and Harry at all costs. Since Ron dragged Dean and Seamus with him wherever he went, Harry only had Neville to hang out with. Not that she minded - she now knew, without a doubt, that Neville was her best friend here at Hogwarts. She and Neville spent most of the weekend working on homework. In reality, it only took Harry most of Saturday and a small fraction of Sunday morning. However, once finished with her own work, she set herself to helping Neville. She wouldn't do the work for him, since they had been warned extensively about the consequences of cheating, but she read through his work and made jots and notes where he had errors. She also pointed him to the correct books for the information he needed.
She and Neville spent most of their weekend in the library. Together, they claimed a small table between the Transfiguration and Potions sections, two of the busiest parts of the library. Students passed by, often giving them glares for getting such a choice table. Hermione Granger lurked just behind one of the shelves, but couldn't join them since their table only had enough room for two.
When the weekend finally ended, Harry's head was spinning with all the practice she'd helped Neville with. She was immensely proud of the fact that Neville could now perform a flawless Mending Charm, and could even, sometimes, get his matchstick to turn into silver. It still refused to go pointy.
Professor McGonagall had been duly impressed with Neville, and had encouraged him to keep trying. Professor Flitwick never found out about Neville's improvement because he'd started them on how to hold a wand properly. Harry had to wonder why the small professor hadn't done that on the first day of class instead of the third.
Tuesday dawned with an air of excitement. The first years couldn't sit still at the breakfast table. "What's put the itching powder in your pants?" Lee asked as he, Fred, and George took seats across from Harry and Neville, who was busy tearing a piece of toast into small shreds.
"Quidditch," Harry said with a grin. She, of all the first year boys, was the only one not acting out. Ron and Seamus were trading stories of how daring they were on a broomstick with the neighboring Hufflepuff boys, who would be joining them, along with the Ravenclaw and Slytherin boys, for their first-ever Flying Lesson. Dean was listening to their bragging with rapt attention, and Neville was slowly turning green.
"Ah, yes, the Fantastic Firstie Flying Lesson," Fred said wisely, nodding seriously.
"A most tragic event," George added.
"What? Why?" Neville gasped.
"The brooms," Fred whispered, a look of horror on his face.
"They - they -" George broke off, apparently too overcome to finish.
"They're as old as Dumbledore!" they finished together with identical grins.
Neville seemed to collapse upon himself in relief. "Oh," he said faintly. "That's good. They won't go as fast." Fred and George looked disgusted with Neville, but didn't say anything when they caught Harry's eyes. She was giving them her most dangerous glare, the one that she rarely used on anyone except Alex when he was being particularly stupid.
The tension was dispelled when Seamus accidentally exploded his goblet of pumpkin juice while trying to turn it into rum. Not long after, the morning owls swooped down. Students were still getting packages of forgotten belongings from their parents, although Harry noted that the blonde snob Malfoy had received a package of sweets from his mother.
"You've got mail!" she exclaimed as a tawny owl dropped a package on Neville's forgotten toast.
Neville reached out and opened it. "It's from Gran," he said, inspecting the glass bauble that had been carefully wrapped in the package. It had white smoke inside it that twisted and contorted like mist on a beach.
"What is it?" Lee asked, leaning forward. "I've never seen anything like it before. What's it do?"
"It's a Remembrall," Hermione spoke from directly next to Harry, who jumped. She hadn't noticed her scooting over towards them. "The smoke turns red when you've forgotten something." As she spoke, the white smoke turned a vibrant scarlet.
"But I don't know what I've forgot," Neville said, forehead wrinkling as he tried to remember something he may have forgotten. Hermione ignored him and spoke to Harry.
"You've flown before, haven't you?" she asked. "You must have - your father was Chaser here." She continued on, ignoring Harry's shock - she hadn't known her father had played Quidditch. It seemed that the longer she stayed at Hogwarts, the more she realized how little she knew of her father's past. "So is it better to have your wrists perpendicular or parallel to the broomstick handle?" She barely paused before asking another question. "And how hard do you kick off to only go a few feet off the ground?"
"I don't know," Harry said dumbly. "It's different for everyone, I guess." Hermione looked put out. "Look, flying isn't really that easy to learn - you either get it or you don't. And it doesn't matter either way, since girls don't take flying. You've got Etiquette and Household Management."
"That's completely illogical," Hermione said with a shake of her bushy mane of hair. "Girls are just as capable of flying as boys. And besides, books can teach anything." She reopened Quidditch Through the Ages and buried her nose in it. Fred, George, and Lee stood and left for their first class, snickering over some joke.
As soon as the three older boys were out of hearing, a pale hand snatched the Remembrall from Neville's loose grasp. "Hey!" Neville objected, before shutting his mouth with a snap when he saw who it was. Harry wasted no time jumping to her feet.
"Is everything all right?" Professor McGonagall, who seemed to have a sixth sense when it came to breaking up fights before they started, had appeared behind her.
"Malfoy - " Harry started, but the boy in question spoke over her.
"Just looking," he said, shoving the glass orb back to Neville. "Good luck flying," he sneered as he and his two body-guards slunk back to the Slytherin table.
Harry turned to Professor McGonagall, expecting some sort of telling off. "Finish your breakfast," the professor said instead. "You'll need it for flying."
Harry and Neville stood next to each other. Neville was throwing covert glances at Harry, who ignored the increasingly panicked looks in favor of staring fixedly at Coach Sturnis, the flying instructor. The Gryffindor and Hufflepuff boys were all in one line, and the Slytherin and Ravenclaw boys in another, so each of them stood opposite a member of another house. Harry was facing a slight Ravenclaw boy by the name of Anthony Goldstein, whose ears stuck out comically from under his close-cropped hair.
"Good morning class," the white-haired instructor called out.
"Good morning, Coach Sturnis," the Hufflepuffs responded cheerfully. A few of the other students made polite remarks, but Harry noted Malfoy's derisive sneer, and anger bubbled through her. This was the boy who had so angered her father, the boy who had both his parents at his beck and call, the boy whose father had sneered at her mother's death. And he thought himself better than everyone else, felt that he had no reason to be here. Harry knew that, however great a Quidditch player may be, there was always room for improvement.
The teacher nodded. "Everyone stick your wand hand over your brooms, and say 'Up'." Harry did as instructed, and her broom flew into her hand with a resounded thwap. It was one of the few that did, the others being Malfoy, another Slytherin named Blaise Zabini, and, to everyone's surprise, a Hufflepuff named Justin Finch-Fletchly. Neville's had risen an inch before falling back to the ground. Distinctive laughter from Neville's other side told Harry that something had happened to either Ron or Dean - Seamus' laugh could be picked out from a crowd with ease, it's tone rough and slightly barking, like a fox. Ignoring her other three roommates, she spoke to Neville.
"You've got to be firm," she told him. "It will respond better if you're not afraid or hesitant." With Harry's helpful advice, Neville wasn't the last to get his broom into his hands, although he only beat Anthony Goldstein, who was also listening to Harry's advise, by a few seconds.
"Excellent," Coach Sturnis continued once all the students quieted down. "Everyone mount their brooms, and on my whistle, kick off. Hover for five seconds, then touch back down." He lifted his silver whistle, made in the shape of a broomstick, and counted down. "Three, two - ". Before he could reach 'one', Neville's broom started to rise, vibrating heavily. "Touch down, boy!" Coach Sturnis barked. Neville's panicked face turned white as the broom continued to rise steadily until he was well over five feet up. Suddenly, he slipped sideways and fell, landing on his wrist with a loud crack.
The Slytherin's broke into derisive laughter as the flying instructor pushed through the crowd. "Move aside!" he called as he thrust his way between Crabbe and Goyle, nearly knocking Malfoy over. He crouched beside Neville, who hadn't moved. Harry stood still, eyes wide. She'd never seen anyone fall off a broom before. It was a foreign concept to her - never once in her years of flying around the property had she even acknowledged the risk that flying could pose. "Oh, dear," Coach Sturnis sighed. "Broken wrist. Hospital Wing for you, boy." He stood, supporting most of Neville's weight. His eyes narrowed as he glared at the class. "If I find that any one of you has so much as hovered an inch above the ground in my absence, you'll be expelled before you can say 'Quidditch'!" he warned. With that, he turned and half-lead, half-carried Neville into the castle.
As soon as they were out of earshot, Malfoy spoke out. "Did you see him, the great lump!" he crowed. "Couldn't even hover without nearly killing himself! And he calls himself a pure-blood. Squib, more like it!"
"Shut up, Malfoy," Ron snarled.
"Got a crush, Weasel?" Malfoy sneered, the other Slytherin's snickering rudely behind him.
"Look what he dropped!" Malfoy stooped down, then quick rose up, the Remembrall Neville's Gran had sent clutched in his fingers.
"Give it here, Malfoy," Harry said, stepping forward with more bravado than she really had. She felt more than heard another of her roommates stepping up behind her, and from the scent of burnt hair knew it to be Seamus. A warm glow suffused her stomach - it was nice to know she could count on someone besides herself. It puzzled her that Ron hadn't been the one to back her, but quickly realized, with a small pang of regret, that he had forgotten her in favor of Dean. Seamus and Dean also hung out together, but Neville got on with Seamus well enough, especially when discussing plants that had anything to do with fire.
"No," Malfoy replied with a malicious smirk. "I think I'll put it somewhere for him to find it." He swung a leg over his broom. "The roof, perhaps," he added, kicking off. In a flash, Harry swung her own leg over her broom.
"No!" Anthony cried out, stepping forward. "You can't! You could get expelled." The other Ravenclaws nodded in agreement.
"So?" Harry snapped. "Friendship is more important." She pulled her sleeve from Anthony's grasp and kicked off. She cursed the school broom as it shuddered under her touch. Fred and George had been right - the school brooms were so old that the enchantments were wearing off.
Harry folded herself down to the broom handle and sped up as much as she could. Either her broom was in better condition, or her smaller size allowed it to travel faster, as Harry caught up to Malfoy, who looked surprised for a moment at her perfect flying.
"Give it here!" Harry repeated, hovering in Malfoy's path. He had to veer to the side to avoid crashing into her, and Harry faintly heard a collective gasp from the rest of the class before the wind pushed it away.
"I don't think so, Potter," Malfoy repeated, his hand clenching around the glass orb.
"Give it here, or I'll knock you off your broom." She narrowed her eyes, and Malfoy's reflexive glance over his shoulder made her feel slightly better. "Not so brave without your body guards," she pointed out. Malfoy seemed to have reached the same conclusion, because he pulled up and away from her.
"If you want it, go get it!" he shouted, and with a tremendous heave, sent the Remembrall soaring through the air. Time seemed to slow down as Harry's green eyes tracked the sparkling glass orb, which reflected the sparse sunlight at every rotation. She flattened herself to her broomstick handle and took off after it, diving towards the ground. All she knew was the wind whistling past her ears, the broom under her hands, and the Remembrall which sparkled, just out of reach.
Only a few feet above the ground, Harry reached out and caught the glass orb in her right hand, pulling up on the broom handle with her left at the same time. She tumbled gently to the ground, Remembrall clutched triumphantly in her fist. "I got it!" she called out to the class, which was watching her dumbfounded. The Gryffindors let out a wild cheer and pelted towards her, brooms forgotten on the grass, the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws close behind. Malfoy and the rest of the Slytherins glared daggers at her as her housemates clapped her on the back. Only the Ravenclaws had looks of disapproval, although a few of them sported looks of amazement.
"Mr. Potter!" a stern voice called out. The congratulations died and the students made a path for Professor McGonagall. "Mr. Potter," she repeated. "Follow me." Heart sinking down to the very bottom of her stomach, Harry followed after Professor McGonagall, Coach Sturnis's words ringing through her ears. Expelled faster than you can say 'Quidditch'. She had done it now - she was going to be expelled, and then Alex would be found out too. Her brother would hate her.
Morose at the thought, Harry didn't pay attention to where Professor McGonagall was leading her. To her surprise, they ended up outside the Charms classroom. "Wait here," Professor McGonagall commanded. Harry barely had time to nod before her head of house opened the door and called into the classroom. "Filius, may I borrow Wood, for a moment?" Harry could hear her ask. She wondered if Wood was a punishment - an enchanted pointer, maybe?
Instead, a burly brown-haired boy followed Professor McGonagall out of the classroom. Harry paled - it was the boy from Quality Quidditch Supplies, and the dormitory stairs after she and Ron had argued. The teachers must have found her out! "Follow me," Professor McGonagall said again. Harry and Wood trailed behind her, the older boy sending curious glances at Harry, who was too wrapped up in worrying to realize how he scrutinized her, taking in the rectangular spectacles, and the way her hands were wrapped around a broomstick and a Remembrall, respectively. Neither of them spoke as they marched behind their head of house. She lead them to her classroom.
"Sit," she said. They sat, although Wood perched himself insolently on top of the desk, which earned a glare from the teacher which he ignored. "Wood," she said, excitement leaking into her voice, something Harry had never heard before. "I've found you a Seeker." Harry's heart seemed to float from her the pit of her stomach up to her ears. She couldn't believe what she'd just heard - McGonagall was recommending her for the Gryffindor House Quidditch Team! "Mr. Potter just caught that thing in his hand from a fifty foot dive," she continued, voice nearly quivering in her excitement.
"Really?" Wood asked, standing up and moving in front of Harry. He pulled her up by the front of her robes and looked her up and down critically. "He's got the right build for it," he started muttering quietly. "Slender and lightweight, better for speed. The glasses may be a problem - too easy to lose in the air. But if he really caught the ball…" he trailed off, a manic glint in his eye. Harry grinned - if she was correct, she'd just found someone else as obsessed with Quidditch as she was.
"I did," she said confidently. "And I can do it again." That seemed to seal the deal.
"He'll need a better broom," Wood said, speaking to McGonagall now. "He can't ride on a school broom - they're rubbish." Professor McGonagall stifled what sounded suspiciously like a snort of amusement.
"I'll take care of it," she said, regaining her usual composure. "I'll speak with Albus - I'm sure he'll understand." Her eyes too gleamed with enthusiasm. "Potter," she snapped, her mood changing like a Bludger changes direction. "As glad as I am to have found a decent Seeker, you will still be punished. Detention for a week with Madam Pomfrey, doing whatever she needs. You'll start tonight at seven." Harry nodded, too elated to care.
"Thank you, Professor!" she all-but squealed.
Professor McGonagall had an amused smile on her face as she bid the two students goodbye. Out in the corridor, Wood pulled Harry aside into a niche.
"You must be good if McGonagall's going to let you play," he said, eyes aglow. "How much do you know about Quidditch?"
"The basics," Harry answered truthfully. While she'd flown nearly every day for the past three years, she'd never once even held a Quaffle or a Snitch. "I've never played before."
Wood's eyebrows rose. "Never? So that was your first time on a broom?" He looked both amazed and excited at the same time.
"No," Harry said with a small laugh, twisting from Wood's strong grip. "I've flown almost daily for three years. Just never with others or with the Quidditch balls." A small amount of excitement left Wood's face but his grin stayed.
"So you've never once chased a Snitch?" he asked.
"No," Harry replied, hoping it wouldn't count against her.
"Excellent!" Wood was nearly hopping on the spot. "First practice is this Friday - no tryouts needed anymore now that we've got you. The rest of the team is returns or last year's reserves." He left her there, rubbing his hands together and muttering to himself as he headed back to the Defense classroom.
Sept. 3
Dear Son,
I am most pleased that you have been sorted into Gryffindor House. As you know, it was my House
when I attended Hogwarts. Be sure to mind Professor McGonagall; she is an extremely competent witch
and an even better professor. Study hard, and don't forget to write your sister. She seemed quite upset
at being sent away from you yesterday morning when I said goodbye, and I'm sure she'd love to hear
from you.
Love,
Your Father
Sept. 11
Dear Alex,
Thank you, thank you, thank you! I can't thank you enough for coming up with the plan! I made the Quidditch
Team! Oh, and I'm a Gryffindor, too, and I'm sorry I didn't write earlier. We agreed not to write too often, but this
was just too important! Classes are good, and none of the teachers suspect. You might not remember, but there
was a family in Diagon Alley with a bunch of red-haired kids. Two of them, twins, somehow figured it out, but
have promised not to tell. In fact, they're giving me tips! The only downside is that I have to get books from the
library for them, since they've been banned. And this library is amazing. You might not appreciate it as much, since
they don't have any novels like at home, but I absolutely love it. Thousands and thousands and thousands of
books; more information than I could ever go through in my lifetime, let alone the next seven years.
I wish you were here with me, sometimes. Neville Longbottom, the boy who would have been our god-brother, is
my closest friend. I thought it would be Ron Weasley, but he's taken to hanging with Dean and Seamus. I think
he's jealous of me. My favorite class so far is Transfiguration, but only because the Defense professor is absolute
rubbish and the Potions professor hates me, but I can't figure out why. Tell me all about Asclepius, and again, thank
you.
Love,
Harry
P. S. Dad wrote to me, but I can't write back without him recognizing my handwriting. Did you get a letter from him
too? In either case, please send him a note, just something simple. He told you to study hard and to write me, and
offered his congratulations on making Gryffindor.
Sept. 13
Harry -
Congrats on making the team; I know it's the main reason you agreed to our separation. I didn't think
first years were allowed to play. I knew you would be Gryffindor, though; after all, we're twins and I
can't imagine they'd separate us. And please be more careful what you write. I don't remember the
red-haired family, but I was a bit distracted with that book you got for me. (Good choice, by the way.)
Do you trust the twins? Will they tell? Do whatever you need to do to keep them on your side; I don't
need to tell you what would happen if Father found out. Plus, I like it here.
I don't care what you say about the Hogwarts library, this one is even better. It takes up an entire tower
- all ten stories. And the top floor is dedicated solely to novels, so it definitely beats Hogwarts. Not that I
have much time to read. The classes are really difficult, even though you probably wouldn't have any
problems. Trying to teach myself Astronomy is really hard, but my best friend Jonah Walters is helping me
a lot. He's American, from Florida, and grew up on a boat! But he knows the stars really well.
My favorite class is Charms, which is good because I have to get an O on both the O.W.L. and the N.E.W.T.
exams in order to graduate a Curse Breaker. I can't wait to see you this summer. We have so much to share!
About Dad - I sent him a note thanking him and telling him that I wrote you. I also added that I made the
Quidditch team, and that my best friend is Neville Longbottom. Nothing too complex. Like we agreed, I kept
the lies simple - basically just what you told me, so it's the truth, in a way. Write him in a couple of days. You
can tell him about the library and how much you like Transfiguration and Potions. Keep it simple. Fly safe.
- Alex
Sept. 14
Dear Father,
Asclepius is fun, I think. I miss you and Alex, especially Alex. I got his letter this morning. He sounds like he's having fun
in Gryffindor. I wish I could be there with him. I haven't really met anyone here that I like yet. There's a boy, Jonah Walters,
from America, who seems all right. He's helping me learn Astronomy at night. The library here is really spectacular. It has
its very own tower, all ten stories! My best classes are Potions and Transfiguration. I'm the best in my class at both. Charms
is a bit difficult for me, but I know it's an important subject. I just wish it was more like Transfiguration. Transfiguration is
just so simple. Although one boy did manage to set his desk on fire by accident. Anyways, I've got to go!
Love,
Harry