Chapter 2 - The Broom Sentience Theory
"So let me get this straight. The two of you made Hermione cry, then locked her in the bathroom WITH the troll. Then you ran INTO the bathroom with the troll and took it down with a levitation charm. And you. You jumped ON the troll and stuck your wand up its nose. Are you INSANE?"
Many other adjectives, all far less appropriate, crossed Alicia Spinnet's thoughts as she glared at the three first years, who cowered under the weight of her ire. Concern and worry bubbled inside the third-year's chest. As the feeling rushed to her head, it boiled and swirled into righteous anger and frustration before it came out as scathing words.
If someone had told her a month ago, that she would be this worked up over Harry Potter, Alicia probably wouldn't have believed them. But the first-year boy had quickly become something like a friend to her. She imagined her father would tease her about adopting another firstie. "First Katie, now Harry Potter himself." She imagined he'd say.
It was Halloween and Harry had just stepped into the common room after fighting a bloody troll and Alicia wasn't sure whether to laugh, cry, or hex the daylight out of him.
Angelina stood at Alicia's side, nodding along and staring down the three eleven-year-olds. Katie just watched the proceedings with the countenance of someone unable to look away from a car crash. The twins were trying, and failing, to stifle their laughter. Oliver just watched the proceedings cautiously, as if waiting for someone to spontaneously combust.
"We couldn't let anything happen to Hermione," Harry argued, his emerald eyes hard and resolute. "We didn't have a choice."
"He has a point," Fred muttered, while George nodded. "Who knows what might have happened to Hermione otherwise." The girl in question looked mighty uncomfortable watching Alicia and Harry argue over her. Alicia turned and glared at the twins.
"Don't get me started on you two," Alicia snarled. "How did neither of you notice that your little brother was missing, along with his best friend?"
The twins looked like they'd been slapped, and their ears turned to match their hair. She regretted the words as soon as they'd left her mouth, but her anger wouldn't let her apologise. Before George could form an angry retort, he was beaten by Ron.
"Hey! Don't yell at them!" The youngest Weasley son made himself known. His hands were balled up at his sides, and his face was an indignant shade of red. His features were screwed up in a righteous scowl. Alicia was impressed that he only slightly faltered when she turned her scorching gaze on him. "Like Harry said, we couldn't bloody well leave Hermione there, could we? There was no other way!"
"There's always another way," Oliver said diplomatically before Alicia's face could purple any further. "All of us were at the feast too, Harry, Ron. So was Percy. You could've spoken to us. We could've helped you. Instead, you risked your life without thinking it through." Harry looked sufficiently cowed now that even the easygoing Oliver was chastising him. Ron, though he still looked angry, didn't retort. Oliver turned to Alicia.
"They did what they thought was right at the moment, and they had a good reason," He placed a hand on her shoulder. "Everyone's safe now, including Hermione. I think you're being too harsh on them. And what you said to the twins was way out of line."
Alicia glared at Oliver, and she opened her mouth to show him what harsh really meant but decided againstit. She glanced at Harry, who flinched when their eyes met, and the fire in her chest puttered out. Her shoulders slumped and she rubbed her temples. She turned to the twins, who still looked unhappy with her. "Sorry Fred, George. I was out of line, you know I didn't mean it," Alicia gave them a weak grin. "You two are still terrible influences, but you're not at fault here." Fred and George looked mollified.
"We'll accept your apology," Fred began with an opportunistic sparkle in his eye.
"On one condition," George continued, quickly catching onto his twin's plan.
"You take yourself off the immunity list," Fred finished with a challenging smirk. "And we'll forgive you."
The Weasley Prank Immunity list was a list of students that the twins weren't allowed to prank. Alicia and Angelina had made it in their first year and forced the twins to sign and adhere to it under threat of violence. Over the three years that the girls had known the twins, the list, which till then had only included its creators, only expanded once. When Katie became a reserve chaser with Alicia and Angelina, they added her to the list, much to the beaters' dismay.
"I'm not that sorry," Alicia shook her head, and her lips quirked into a smirk. "One prank, that's all I'll allow." The twins looked like Christmas came early. A look passed between them that made Alicia sure she would regret that decision.
She turned to the three first years. Hermione looked a little calmer now that no one was actively yelling, Ron stood awkwardly as if waiting for an opening to leave, and Harry just looked like akicked puppy. He flinched when her gaze landed on him, and he stared down at his shoes. Alicia's heart squeezed in her chest when he refused to look at her. The anger had ebbed away now, leaving only worry and guilt.
Alicia grabbed Harry and pulled him into a fierce hug. "I'm glad you're all right," she whispered, before sitting back in her chair. Now Harry just looked confused.
The trios of first years stood awkwardly before they made to sit somewhere else, but Alicia stopped them. "Where do you think you're going? I'm not letting you out of my sight. Otherwise, you might just go wrestle a werewolf. Still haven't forgotten about the bloody midnight duel you accepted."
A few weeks ago, Angelina told Alicia that she'd heard the Malfoy twerp challenge Harry to a duel at midnight. Angelina intervened and scared off the Slytherins and then pointed out to Harry and Ron that this was clearly a trap. Alicia had thought the whole thing was hilarious at the time. But now, she wondered whether Harry was some kind of adrenaline junkie, and what that meant for her stress levels.
She patted the cushion next to her and the first years sat down somewhat reluctantly. A plate of food from the feast appeared on each of their laps. Ron's stomach growled loudly, and he dug in without hesitation.
"Sorry," Harry said meekly, before picking at his food. He avoided Alicia's gaze and responded to the rest of the team rather shortly. Alicia frowned and looked helplessly at her friends who merely shrugged in response.
The first years quickly cleared their plates, chattering quietly among themselves. Hermione excused herself, saying that she was exhausted after a very long day. Ron went back for seconds, before getting dragged into a Quidditch debate with Seamus Finnigan and Lavender Brown. Harry looked like he too wanted to run up the stairs, but stayed rooted in his seat, trying to blend into the cushions.
"Now that that's out of the way," Fred chimed in, with his trademark grin that promised nothing but trouble.
"Who wants to hear about the dungbomb we set off in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom stall?" finished the other twin, matching his brother's expression. Silence rang through the group.
"What's a dungbomb?" Harry looked at the twins to resounding groans from the rest of the team.
"Well, Harrykins, since you asked so nicely," the twin sitting on the left said, as the one on the right reached into his bag. Angelina smacked them both over the head.
"George, get your hand out of your bag and I swear to Merlin if I see a dung bomb in your hand, I will shove it up your arse."
The newly identified George pouted. His hand snaked out of his bag, and he held them up in the air in a placating gesture.
Angelina, who was glaring at George, didn't notice Fred reaching into the bag on the floor and picking up a small green pellet. Fred tossed the pellet into Angelina's face, and it exploded in a cloud of acrid green smoke. Alicia winced as Angelina gagged and sputtered. Immediately, the twins stepped away from her and began to retreat.
Once she regained her bearings, Angelina let out an enraged roar and began chasing the twins around the common room. Alicia thought Angelina looked like a rampaging rhino, shoving chairs and tables out of the way as she pursued the fleeing boys.
"What was that?" Harry asked, watching the commotion. Alicia watched with amusement as he winced when Angelina kicked a chair into George's path, and he tripped into Fred. The twins went tumbling to the ground.
"Stink pellet," Katie wrinkled her nose. She had been sitting the closest to Angelina and had caught the strongest blast of the cloud. "One of the twins' favourite jokes items."
Alicia watched as Katie reached into the twins' bag. She rummaged around for a moment, pulling out another stink pellet. She tossed it to Angelina, who caught it with practised ease. The older girl took a deep breath before plugging her nose with her free hand. She dropped the green pellet and crushed it, and a plume of green smoke enveloped the twins' heads.
Satisfied by the cycle of winded breathing, gagging, and retching, Angelina dropped back into her chair and sat cross-legged with a smug grin. Alicia shook her head as the twins approached the group again, both patting Angelina's shoulder with grudging respect as they passed.
George walked past Angelina and flopped unceremoniously on the couch, landing on Alicia. Her nostrils were assaulted by the overwhelming stench of rotten eggs. She let out an undignified shriek before shoving George off her, onto Harry. Harry's face also scrunched up as he got a whiff of the stink.
For the first time that night, Harry looked at Alicia, a spark of mischief in his eye. Alicia nodded slightly with a wide smile on her face that was full of humour and a tinge of relief.
Abruptly, Alicia and Harry stood up from the couch, sending George tumbling once more. The redhead groaned on the ground, where he was sprawled on his stomach.
"Abusive, the lot of you," George rolled over and stood up, then flopped into his chair. "Feeling better, Harry?"
"Yeah, loads. I just don't like it when you're all mad at me." Harry spoke in a small voice, and Alicia frowned. Once again, guilt gnawed at her. She really needed to get her temper in check.
"We're not mad at you, Harry," Alicia punched him lightly in the shoulder, giving him what she hoped was a reassuring look. "I was just worried. If you get yourself hurt, who am I going to get to fly into Oliver whenever he's being a prat?"
"I'm sure Fred and George can be convinced," Harry grinned at her, and Alicia was glad to see he was back to his normal, cheeky self. "Maybe even Angelina. My heart would stop if I saw her flying straight for me."
"Are you calling me large, Harry?" Angelina raised an eyebrow and the corner of her lip twitched, betraying her amusement. "Trust me when I say that's the last thing you want to say to a woman. You won't need this advice for a few years yet, but you'll do good to remember that."
Alicia snickered as Harry's cheeks flushed and he stammered out an excuse. Angelina threw her head back and laughed. She then leaned over and pinched his cheeks. This of course, only served to fluster Harry further, sending Alicia into another bout of laughter.
The group of friends sat together and talked about inconsequential things such as schoolwork and Quidditch (though Oliver would disagree that Quidditch could ever be inconsequential). Oliver answered a few of Harry's questions about the levitation charm essay that Harry had yet to complete, and Alicia promised to help Katie master the Avifors spell. Alicia suggested that they go to bed when Harry nearly fell asleep on her. That was when Oliver announced that they would have practice the next morning.
"Since when do we have practice on Sundays?" Katie poked Oliver in the ribs and he jumped in his seat. "It's Halloween, give us a break you bastard."
"Our first game is in two weeks," Oliver grinned at Harry, who looked somewhere between excited and nauseous if his pale face and fidgeting hands were any indicator. "We've got to train up our secret weapon. He's already on par with the other seekers, but I think we can do better than being just as good. Plus, no one else wanted the pitch so I was able to book it pretty easily."
"I wonder why no one wanted to book the pitch," Katie glared. "Maybe because it's the day after Halloween, Oliver."
The boy in question grinned weakly. When he saw his chasers glaring at him (Katie was even holding her wand) he mumbled a quick good night before grabbing his things and hastily retreating to his dorm. The heated gaze of his chasers followed him till he was out of their view.
A few minutes later, Harry Potter found himself in his bed with the curtains drawn. He stared up at the pockmarks and graffiti on the roof of his four-poster bed as he processed the day's events. Even thinking about the troll made his heart pound faster against his chest. Even worse was the involuntary shudder that passed through him at the thought of the ferocity with which Alicia had called his name when he walked through the portrait.
When he saw the anger in her eyes, he'd been terrified. He thought she'd react the way the Dursleys had whenever he displeased them. He thought she'd yell at him, call him names, andmaybe even hit him. She had certainly yelled at him andhad even questioned his sanity.
Though, in retrospect, Harry had to admit that chasing down a troll without any help had not been his sanest moment.
Harry knew how to handle anger. It was a skill he'd picked up long ago from living with the Dursleys. But afterwards, Alicia hugged him and said she was glad he was safe. That was not something he was used to. When he looked at his teammates, it wasn't anger that looked back at him. It was concern.
And he had no idea what to do with concern. It was difficult for him to even comprehend, that someone looked at him the way Aunt Petunia looked at Dudley whenever he scraped his knee or came down with the flu. It felt foreign. But good.
A small voice in the back of Harry's mind wondered how long it would last. How long till he drove them away? How long till they realised he was a freak, just like Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon had so long ago?
Harry shook his head free of his incessant concerns and placed his glasses on his nightstand. Doubt plagued his thoughts, but luckily, he fell asleep rather quickly despite them. It had, in fact, been quite a long day, and Harry was knackered.
Much like Harry, Hogwarts had thoroughly exhausted itself on Halloween, staff and students alike. And that was without the troll. As a result, classes were cancelled for the day. Most of the constituents of the castle were asleep in their beds and would be for quite some time. Most, except for the Gryffindor Quidditch team, who trudged down the grass to the pitch. Angelina and Oliver wore workout clothes, but the remaining team members were still in their pyjamas.
The students almost ran into the locker room to escape the mounting chill that came with the turn of the season. Katie had decided not to throw a sweater over her pyjamas and was sorely regretting it. She rubbed her arms as she turned the corner into the girls' changing rooms.
Just over an hour later, Harry and the team had finished their physical training. He grinned as he rummaged through his locker, pulling out a thin, long parcel. He unwrapped the brand-new broom Professor McGonagall had gotten delivered to him at breakfast that morning and looked at it reverently.
Harry held the new Nimbus 2000 in his hands and frowned. The broom felt cold and foreign. Compared to the school broom he'd been using before, which had almost vibrated with energy. There was no spark of electricity from his broom that he felt from the school ones. He could feel the magic, but it didn't feel as welcoming as the older ones.
He really hoped the broom worked properly.
Harry was knocked out of his thoughts by a tap on the shoulder. Katie stood behind him, eyeing his Nimbus with barely contained excitement.
"D'you think I could take her for a spin?" Katie nodded at the broom in his hand. Harry couldn't help but laugh at her enthusiasm.
"Her?"
"She's a she, obviously," she rolled her eyes as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Harry snorted.
"Sure, you can fly her around for a bit after practice is over."
Behind them, Oliver walked out the changing room and beckoned to his players. Groaning and grumbling, yet excited to hit the air, the team exited the lockers. Oliver was walking backwards, explaining the day's practice itinerary.
"So, we've been working on positional awareness so far, and I think we're getting good at not getting in each other's way." Oliver grinned proudly. "For a couple of reserves and a firstie, I think that's pretty damn good."
Harry had learned that Oliver was the only returning member from last year's active roster. Alicia, Angelina, Katie, and the twins were on the reserve team last year.
"Now that we've got that part down, we're going to work on the opposite," Oliver sought out the chasers with his eyes. "Girls, your teamwork has been steadily improving. You've all established roles within your unit and are already looking like the best chaser trio at Hogwarts."
The three girls grinned at each other. Angelina put Katie in a headlock and ruffled her hair as the younger girl flailed about helplessly. The three chasers were best friends on and off the pitch and had been practising together as the reserve chasers forthe entirety of last year. Their chemistry was phenomenal as a result, despite never having played together in an official match.
"Fred, George, your bludger precision is looking deadly," Oliver nodded at the twins. "You're both getting a lot better at predicting where your opponents will be, and you rarely hinder your teammates with your hits."
The twins returned Oliver's compliments with devilish grins, and Harry felt that the other three Hogwarts teams would soon come to fear that look.
"Harry, your improvement has been incredible to watch," Oliver grinned at the first year, who flushed under the attention. "Your snitch catch times are consistently improving, and you're getting much better at playing around your teammates. Your multitasking is also getting really good." Oliver counted off his fingers. "You're looking like you'll rival even Charlie in a year or so, and all that without knowing what Quidditch was only two months ago!"
Harry tried not to think about Charlie Weasley. Charlie was the superstar seeker who graduated two years ago. He had led his team and house to many a Quidditch cup during his tenure. Harry had overheard some of the older students talking about Charlie. They didn't think Harry could live up to him, and honestly, neither did Harry. Harry hated being trapped under the shadow of the older boy. He didn't think he could surpass Charlie, but the desire to not be a burden to the team spurred him on during practice.
"Now, we're going to work on interference plays," Oliver explained his plan to turn Harry into a human bludger. Until Harry saw the snitch, he was to be a nuisance, flying at opponents and breaking their formations, all without touching the quaffle or the keeper. In turn, the chasers would try to help him fight off the opposing seeker when he saw the snitch.
Soon, the team was in the air and running drills. Harry was pitted against the chasers. He was to disrupt their formations while searching for the snitch. Once he found it, they would switch, and the chasers would try to prevent him from catching it. The twins flew around, supporting Harry with the occasional bludger, until he saw the snitch, at which point they would turn on him. They would reset every time Harry caught the snitch, or the chasers made a goal.
Harry found it odd that after weeks of practising to avoid interfering with the chasers' plays, he was being told to mess up their formations. He was often jealous of the camaraderie that the three girls had and didn't think anything could interfere with the teamwork they displayed, least of all him.
Harry pursued the chaser trio who were heading to the left side of the pitch. They weren't at full speed as they passed the quaffle to each other, allowing Harry to catch up with them easily. He accelerated ahead of Angelina, who held the quaffle, climbing so that he was above the older girl. Angelina signalled to Katie and Alicia, who spread out. Alicia accelerated slightly while Katie swung wide to the left.
Harry saw Angelina rear her arm back to throw to Alicia. He knew that if he tried to block Angelina's vision, she would just delay her pass, and Alicia would likely still make the catch. Making up his mind, he accelerated to get ahead of Angelina. When he saw her shoulders tense, he swooped down in front of and past Alicia, obscuring her vision. The only thing he saw amid his blurry surroundings was the smirk on Alicia's face as he sent her hair flying behind him. Thinking Angelina had delayed the pass, Harry looked back at her, to see the girl flying toward him with both hands on her broom.
Angelina had the best-throwing arm out of the chasers and was particularly good at creating scoring opportunities with her precise and powerful passes. That was why Harry was surprised to see her flying toward him empty-handed. Alicia was a stalwart defender, and very good at creating space for her teammates to play with. As the girls approached him, Harry realized that Alicia and Angelina had done their jobs to perfection, creating a gap and an opportunity for the third chaser: the wild card.
Katie swooped from underneath, catching the quaffle that Angelina had dropped during her feint, and rocketed past him toward the penalty box. Alicia overtook him, gleefully laughing all the way to her teammates. He chased them, but the girls were already at the penalty box, taking shot after shot at Oliver. The Keeper blocked a good three shots before one finally went in.
Harry congratulated the girls as they flew back to the line of scrimmage.
The play reset, but before the girls could get back into formation, Harry saw a glint of gold under the teacher's stands. "SNITCH," he yelled before leaning forward and accelerating. The wind rushed past him and stung his eyes, but he kept his eyes on the distant glint of gold. Harry felt a rush of wind to his right and pointed his broom down, feeling the bludger whoosh past him. Other than the wind, Harry heard a rustle above him. After committing the snitch's location to memory, Harry risked a glance above and saw Angelina grinning down at him.
"My turn!"
He heard more rustling to his sides and took the educated guess that the other two chasers were on his flanks. He looked back at the snitch and let out a sigh of relief when he spotted it near the commentator's booth. The rustling got louder and louder, and he could feel the chasers closing in on him. As they got closer, Harry realized that they were trying to box him in. If they could surround him, they could dictate his movement, stopping him from freely chasing the snitch. In a game, that would all but guarantee a loss.
Harry knew that because they were chasing him, he would have a split-second decision-making advantage. Knowing this, he accelerated his broom to the highest it would go. The girls accelerated to keep up. While his broom was faster than theirs, the difference wasn't enough to leave them behind. His Nimbus' strengths lay elsewhere.
When Harry felt that the girls were flying too fast to turn in time, he noted the location of the snitch and pulled his broom, leaning as far back as he could. He felt the wind batter against his chest and sting his eyes as the mid-air braking charms that the Nimbus 2000 was known for worked their magic. Harry used his body like the sails on an old ship, putting as much of his form against the wind to slow himself down. His robes fluttered in the wind like a scarlet parachute. The chasers went careening right past him. Before they could react and correct course, Harry curved around them and zoomed toward the snitch.
The girls gained on him again, but the advantage he had given himself was just enough. He increased the space between himself and the girls and closed in on the snitch. Once again, he felt the wind whoosh to his left and rolled under a bludger that nearly clipped his ear. He took a hand off the broom and held it outstretched before him. A strand of his hair stuck to his face and tickled his nose. Ignoring the irritating sensation, Harry reached out as far as he could. Nearly pressed flat against his broom, Harry strained forward, stretching his arms as far as they were able. Finally, his fingertips touched cool metal and golden wings flapped against his palm as he wrapped his fingers around the snitch.
He slowed down, taking deep breaths as his body caught up with him. The girls surrounded him as Oliver blew his whistle and gestured to the ground. The bludgers fell limp into the grass.
"That was SO COOL," Katie gushed, grinning widely. Her blonde hair was sticking out at odd angles and her face was flushed. Harry's cheeks burned under the praise. "How does your broom brake so fast?"
"When I turned around, I thought you were going to fall off your broom," Angelina grinned at him as her feet met the ground. She plucked a few stray leaves out of her braids. "You looked like you were riding a bucking horse back there.
Harry laughed as he landed softly, hoisting his broom over his shoulder. A spark of warmth rushed up his arm. It felt stronger than it had been when he first held it, but it was still weaker than the school broom had been. "Angelina, do you know if brooms are alive?"
Angelina just blinked at him as the rest of the team landed around them. "I don't think so. I mean, they're just charmed pieces of wood, right?"
"Well, Hogwarts is just a pile of rocks, but people still say the castle isalive," Oliver said, patting his players on the shoulder as he passed them. "If you're really curious, you should ask Flitwick. He might know more."
Harry stared down at his broom and resolved to do just that. His Nimbus felt almost foreign in his hands. It reminded Harry of one early morning two days ago. He'd woken up in the morning to the blaring sound of Neville's alarm. He groped around in the semi-darkness for his wand to shut the blasted thing off. He hadn't put on his glasses, so he grabbed the first wooden stick he could find and tapped it against the alarm. The alarm had stopped, but the wand felt hollow in his hand. It felt unbalanced and made his palm feel unpleasantly warm. When he put his glasses on, he realised he was holding Neville's wand instead of his own.
Neville's wand.
A wand unsuited to him.
The dots connected in his head. Were brooms like wands? Did certain brooms work better for certain wizards? Did that mean his broom was ill-suited for him?
He felt horrible at the thought that the second gift he'd ever gotten (other than Hedwig) might not work for him. He paled at the thought of the look on McGonagall's face if he told her he wanted to use a school broom over the Nimbus she'd gotten him. He didn't even want to imagine how Oliver would react.
Harry half listened to Oliver, who was talking to the team about the drill they had just completed. He clenched the Nimbus tighter. While the school broom pulsed with magic, Harry's broom just felt like a piece of wood. It still worked perfectly fine. But it didn't feel right. He resolved to speak to Professor Flitwick as soon as he could.
Harry was broken out of his reverie by Katie, who walked up to him and looked at him expectantly. Harry looked at her with confusion before he noticed her eyes flitting between him and the Nimbus in his hand. He grinned and held it out to her. She accepted it with an absently muttered thanks as she hopped on and took to the sky.
After Katie, the rest of the team also wanted to try his new broomstick, and Harry spent most of the early morning watching and cheering for his teammates as they pulled off increasingly outlandish stunts on the top-of-the-line broom.
"Those of you who were not able to cast the wand-lighting charm will write me five inches on the mistakes you were making and how you're going to correct them moving forward," Flitwick surveyed the class, pausing on Harry who stood near the front, with his bag still at his desk. "The rest of you, have a great weekend. Our first Quidditch game of the season is the day after tomorrow, on Saturday. Gryffindor versus Slytherin. Always a great matchup. It will be a fun game, I'm sure. I hope I'll see you all there."
After all his classmates had left the Charms classroom, Harry waved off Ron and Hermione, who were waiting for him. His friends left the room, and the door swung shut behind them. Harry turned to his professor, who watched him curiously from his raised seat.
"Is there something I can help you with, Mr. Potter?"
"Yes, professor," Harry wrung his hands, thinking of the best way to approach his theory. "I had some questions about the charms on riding brooms."
"Ah yes, broom magic is one of the more popular applications of enchantment," The tiny professor nodded excitedly. "Many of my former students have found great success in the industry. Very lucrative, yes, yes. Were you having trouble with your broom, Mr. Potter? Professor McGonagall mentioned that you joined your house team. You must be very excited, what with your first game this weekend."
"Yes, sir, I'm very excited to play on Saturday. But no, my broom seems to be working fine." Harry thought about how to phrase the question without sounding dumb. "Sir, are brooms alive?"
"That is a very complicated question, Mr. Potter. Can you elaborate on what you mean by alive?"
Harry scratched his chin. "I guess something like a wand sir. When I met Mr. Ollivander, he said that the wand chose the wizard. He talked as if they were alive and could choose their master," He paused and thought about how to best phrase his question. "I guess what I'm asking is whether a broom can reject an owner. Kind of like a wand."
"While I do not claim to be an expert on wand-making, I believe that the wand selection process is more complex than some kind of arbitrary preference. Wands have different cores, woods, and measurements. These components all add qualities to the wand." Flitwick held his wand in his hand and Harry noticed that the wand was smaller than his own and was also a much lighter shade of brown.
"You might remember, Mr. Potter, that when he gave you your wand, Mr. Ollivander might have told you certain types of magic that your wand would be good for. Do you remember?" Harry nodded. Flitwick seemed very excited to be discussing such a topic with a student. It was very rare that a first-year took an interest in such an abstract type of magic.
"He said my mum's wand was good for charms work."
"I'm not surprised at all. No, Lily was quite the prodigious student in my class. It is truly one of my biggest regrets that she decided to pursue a career in potions instead of charms," Flitwick shook his head ruefully, grinning at Harry who drank in the information about his mother. The young boy was surprised to hear that Flitwick knew his mother. He wondered if the professor would tell him stories about her another time. "But yes. Each component that makes up a wand gives it certain qualities it looks for when 'choosing' an owner. But that is not to say that the wand itself is alive."
"So that means a wand isn't actually alive? Some wands just have parts that are better suited for certain people. Are brooms also like that?"
"No, Mr. Potter. Wands are usually custom-made. For example, Mr. Ollivander is very proud of the fact that his wands are all one of a kind. On the other hand, brooms are mass-produced. Your broom has the exact measurements, enchantments, and materials as every other broom of its make," Flitwick shook his head. "As a result, brooms are designed to avoid the scenario you're suggesting."
"So, all brooms should work the same for everyone then?" Harry mused, more to himself than anything. "Then why…"
"Mr. Potter, has something happened with your broom that has led to this conversation?" Flitwick raised an eyebrow. Harry nodded and told Flitwick about his Nimbus and how it felt dull compared to the school brooms.
"Hmmm. I think I may have an idea what your problem is. First, May I take a look at your broom? I would like to make sure what you're feeling is not some sort of prank."
With Harry's nodded assent, Flitwick called for someone named Floppy. A small creature appeared between them with an audible pop.
The creature was smaller than Flitwick. It had large bat-like ears and was dressed in a tea towel with the Hogwarts crest sewn where a breast pocket would be. Large eyes the size of tennis balls flitted back and forth between the other occupants of the room.
"Floppy, would you mind going down to the Quidditch pitch and getting us Mr. Potter's broomstick?" The tiny creature nodded and disappeared with a soft pop. A minute later, it reappeared holding Harry's Nimbus carefully in its tiny palms. Flitwick took the broomstick and smiled at the creature. "Thank you Floppy, that is all."
The creature disappeared again, and Harry stared at the spot it had disappeared from.
"Professor, what – who was that?"
"That was Floppy, Mr. Potter," Flitwick answered absently. He looked over Harry's Nimbus. "She is a house elf who works for Hogwarts. House elves are creatures that live to serve wizards. They're quite clever and immensely loyal and devoted to their masters."
Flitwick pulled out his wand and waved it over the broomstick in a multitude of complicated patterns. The broom was still for a few seconds before it began glowing. First, it glowed a dull white, before the bristles emitted a soft yellow light. The saddle and footguards glowed a pale blue before Flitwick tapped the broom and it lurched on the professor's desk. Then, the lights faded away.
"Your broom is in perfect working condition, Mr. Potter. No hexes or jinxes, and the only enchantments I've found are the ones that are supposed to be there." Flitwick returned the broom to Harry, who was disappointed to feel the same emptiness when he held it. "Now, we shall discuss what I believe is my theory for why your broom feels awkward. First, could you describe what you feel when you hold your broom, and why you believe it to be odd? What is your frame of reference?"
"Frame of reference, sir?"
"What are you comparing the sensation to? What makes you think that this sensation isn't normal?"
"Oh, well. The best way I can describe it is that it feels like I'm using someone else's wand," Harry rambled through the story of the time he'd used Neville's wand. "I mean, the broom works really well. It's really fast. Brakes and turns really well too. But when I used the school brooms during flying lessons, it felt completely different." Harry was pacing now, and Flitwick watched him with barely concealed mirth.
"I felt like there was something other than myself controlling the broom. Like it was reading my thoughts and doing what I wanted it to before I could ask. Neville's wand felt like it was… rejecting me, and the school broom felt like it was accepting me as its user. Just like my wand," Harry paused, and his eyes were screwed shut in concentration. "But my broom, it just feels empty."
The professor's eyes flashed with recognition. When Harry turned back to his professor, Flitwick held before him two feathers.
"Mr. Potter, can you hold both of these feathers for me, and tell me if you feel something?"
Harry took the feathers in each hand, weighing them against each other. Physically, they looked and felt identical. However, the one in his left hand buzzed with a vibration that he would not have felt if he hadn't been searching for it. Once he took notice, the vibration became more prominent, and warmth prickled his palm. The feather didn't seem to be rejecting him like Neville's wand had, but it wasn't accepting him either. It felt neutral, just like his broom.
"Professor, this one feels warmer," Harry lifted the feather on the right, and Flitwick's face split into a wide grin, showing sharp teeth. Harry supposed there might be some truth to the rumours about his goblin ancestry after all. "It feels foreign, just like my broom."
"That feather you are holding, Mr. Potter, has an anti-summoning charm on it. I needed a charm that wouldn't leave any physical evidence because I wanted to see if you would be able to detect the magic without using your physical senses," By now, Flitwick was bouncing in his seat. His excitement was contagious, and Harry felt himself break out into a confused grin. "It seems that you have a high sensitivity to magic, Harry. That means that you can detect spells and enchantments, and with some practice, even identify them and their caster."
"Sir, does that mean that what I feel from my broom is the enchantments that are placed on it?" Harry's eyes lit up as all his theories and ideas connected and began to make sense. "Someone else must have enchanted my broom, so am I recognising their magic? Is that why it feels foreign?"
At Flitwick's nod, Harry continued pacing. "But unlike a wand, my broom won't choose an owner, so it doesn't actually affect my flying," He turned and looked straight at Flitwick. "But sir, why do the school brooms feel so natural then? Those were also enchanted by someone else."
"To explain that Harry, I have to explain to you a basic concept of enchanting. Now, this is usually taught in N.E.W.T. level charms, but I have never been one to discourage curiosity, so I will tell you a simplified version," Flitwick paused, and Harry could see the cogs whirring in the professor's head. "Enchantments are not magic in themselves, but they are sustained by magic. For lack of a better term, they feed on the magic of their surroundings. That's why many wards and enchantments on abandoned buildings or objects fade after time."
Harry nodded, frowning in concentration. "So, when I cast the levitation charm, it eats some of my magic and uses it to maintain the spell?"
"Precisely! When a broom-maker enchants a broom, the charms are sustained using the maker's magic. But when you use the broom, it starts using your innate magic to power itself instead," Flitwick waved his wand and drawings appeared on a nearby chalkboard of a blue stick figure riding a red broom. Next to them, a red figure stood holding a wand. The colour of the broom changed from red to blue, matching the rider.
"Over time, the broom will stop using the maker's magic entirely and use only yours. Once that happens, the broom will, as you put it, accept you as its owner. Then, instead of the enchanter's magic, you will feel your own."
Flitwick paused for a moment as Harry processed the new information. Harry felt like his head would burst, and he struggled to keep up with the intelligent professor.
"Like a pet, professor?" Harry asked, his eyes widening in understanding. "When I bought my owl Hedwig from the emporium, she didn't trust me until I started taking care of her and giving her treats. She would have associated the store workers with treats. But now, over time, as I kept feeding her, she came to associate me with them instead. She accepted me over them."
Harry was bouncing on the balls of his feet, eyes glittering excitedly. Flitwick nodded exuberantly. "Exactly, Mr. Potter. A perfect analogy too! Take five points to Gryffindor." Harry beamed.
"The school brooms, much like Hogwarts itself, are an anomaly. The school brooms are quite old, and hundreds of students have used them. From what we understand, the brooms consume magic from every person who uses them, but everyone uses the school brooms," The drawing rippled, and the rider started changing colours. The broom kept changing to match the rider, before settling on a neutral white. "That means that while the broom has long since forgotten its enchanter, it hasn't gained a new owner. The enchantment recognizes no owner and thus treats everyone the same."
Harry frowned. "So, the school brooms would listen to anyone the same, but my broom will only accept its owner, which will eventually become me. Oliver Wood swears by the same Cleansweep that he's been using since his first year. He says that no other broom feels quite right, does that mean he also has a high sensitivity to magic?"
"Not necessarily, Mr. Potter. As you said, your broom functions perfectly well even now, when you aren't its recognised owner. The only reason you notice anything peculiar is because of your special talents. Such a high sensitivity is very rare. Many wizards can sense magical items, especially muggleborns who grew up without magic and can distinguish between the magical and the mundane instinctively," Flitwick looked nostalgic for a moment.
"They can only tell whether an object or location is magical, but they won't notice anything else. You have already shown that you can distinguish magic from different sources. That is significantly rarer,"
Harry nodded. He was following along, if barely.
"Mr. Wood might be able to discern that his broom feels a lot more comfortable than others. That is because his broom is attuned to his magic, not because the other brooms are attuned against him. Do you understand the distinction, Mr. Potter?"
"Yeah, I think so," Harry closed his eyes as his thoughts swam with broomsticks and complex magical theory. "So, if Hedwig was to run into me in the Great Hall, she'd be affectionate because she likes me." Harry smiled fondly at the thought of his pet.
"When someone meets her for the first time, she won't be affectionate or hostile, she'll be neutral," Harry's eyes snapped open and he looked straight at Flitwick, who gave him an encouraging smile. "But she's pretty bigheaded for an owl, so people might think she's being hostile, compared to other owls. But I know her, and I know what she's like when she actually is hostile, so I can tell when she isn't."
"But, if she ran into someone she didn't like, say Malfoy," Flitwick only chuckled, and Harry grinned wider imagining Hedwig pecking at Malfoy's hair. "She might be outright hostile."
Now Harry paused, struggling to relate his rambling analogy back to brooms.
"So, when Oliver rides his Cleansweep, the broom feels good. But because he compares all brooms to his Cleansweep, the other ones make him feel bad," Harry snapped his fingers. "But they're not, they just don't make him feel anything at all, and so he thinks it's bad. But me, I can actually feel when the broom feels bad, because it doesn't accept me. We think we're feeling the same thing, but it's different because I can feel more sensitively, is that right?"
Harry was gesturing wildly, and Flitwick was nodding, confirming everything Harry was saying. "The broom isn't against me, but its magic doesn't recognize me yet, and unlike other people with new brooms, I notice that because of my sensitivity to magic!"
"Exactly, Mr. Potter!" Flitwick looked overjoyed that Harry had understood. "And a phenomenal analogy too, using your pet owl to understand a magical concept. Take five points for some excellent critical thinking! I do hope you take Arithmancy in your third year, I think you and Professor Vector would get along well."
Harry didn't know what Arithmancy was, but he resolved to ask Hermione later. He was too mentally drained to absorb any new information.
"Thank you for your help professor," Harry grinned. "So, how would I go about making my broom accept me, then?"
"Well, simply use it, Mr. Potter," Flitwick said, handing the broom back to Harry. "And because brooms have small charms that are active at all times, like anti-rotting charms, even close proximity will help if only a tiny amount."
"Thank you so much professor, you've been really helpful," Harry grinned at the professor, who smiled back. "About my magical perception. If I can use it to identify spells, I imagine that would be a really useful skill to have. Do you know how I can learn it? Could you teach me?"
"Alas, your particular talent is quite a rare one. I don't know any with your talents that are still among the living," Flitwick's cheery disposition darkened for a moment before he shook it off. "However, I did have the honour of having a close personal and professional relationship with the last person I knew to have such high magical perception, so I might be able to provide you with some modicum of guidance."
"Who was it, professor? The last person you knew who was like me?"
"Why, Mr. Potter, it was a student named Lily Evans. Though you would likely know her as Lily Potter."
A/N: Quite the yap session at the tail end of this chapter, eh? I really liked the Flitwick and Harry mentor-mentee dynamic and it just gained a life of its own at a point. Guess we'll have to wait to see where that plot thread ends up.
As always, reviews always appreciated. I'd love to hear what people think of Dynasty so far