A Promise Kept - Chapter 6 - Life as a First Year

Life as a First Year

With his first week of being the headmaster of his beloved school finally behind him, he could breathe a sigh of relief that it hadn’t burned down, at the very least.

In truth, it had gone better than he could’ve hoped for, and Agilbert Fontaine could not be more pleased.

Having spent the better part of four decades working as an Auror, and another fifteen as a Professor of Defence Against the Dark Arts, not having envisioned he would find himself as the headmaster.

Yet, here he was, waiting to host his first meeting of the school year with dozens of members of staff he now led.

Agilbert had not considered that he would be elevated to his position.

There were certainly others amongst his colleagues that were more experienced than him, and perhaps even better suited to the job, but the problem with such seasoned educators is that they loved what they did and had no desire to oversee the running of the school when they could be where it mattered most.

Agilbert had not hesitated to step up when the board of governors had approached him.

As much as he enjoyed teaching, he was due a few years of peace before he retired, though he was not entirely convinced he would be granted such.

No, being the headmaster of a prestigious school was no easy task, but he found it quite suited him.

He watched as the members of staff filed into his office and began taking their seats around the table, each of them appearing quite tired from the first week back after a long summer break.

He remembered the fatigue well, the tiredness of dealing with rambunctious and over-excited first years, the nervous fifth and seventh years, and everything in between that the start of a new school term brought.

“Without wishing to sound patronising, well done,” he said sincerely. “I know that it has been a long week, and I have no intention of keeping you any longer than necessary. I just have a few announcements to share, and then you will be free to go.”

The members of staff murmured amongst themselves, and Agilbert took a moment to read through his own notes.

“Ah, I have copies of the schedule for Quodpot trials that can be arranged by each house team captain here. I am sure that will keep them from your offices, and also the patrol schedule for the prefects.”

He made copies for each of those that would need them before ticking it off his thankfully small list of points to address.

“I have been asked by the medical wing that we make time to replenish the calming draughts in the coming weeks. It sems they have already gone through more than half of the supply..”

“I already have some ready to be delivered,” Professor Mulligan replied.

He was a large man and had spent his younger years as a professional Quidditch player in Europe but had quit to pursue his passion for Potions.

Eventually, he had found himself teaching at the school and was responsible for nurturing some of the very best brewers on the continent since he’d taken up his post.

“Thank you, Patrick,” Agilbert offered. “Now, before we end the meeting, is there anything I should be aware of? How are the first years settling in?”

“As normal,” Professor Archibald Weathers answered.

The man had what seemed to be an everlasting smell of various plants about him. Even during his time off, he could be found in one of the greenhouses working.

“Normal, mostly,” Thibault Goode, the Transfiguration professor muttered.

“Here, here,” Patrick echoed.

“Something you wish to say, Professor Mulligan?” Agilbert asked.

The large man leaned back in his chair.

“Well, from what I have seen and heard, we have quite the talented pool of first years. I am already touting four potential potioneers among them who could achieve a mastery, and several others that will certainly do well if their work continues in the same fashion I have seen from them. I do not wish to speak out prematurely, but there is certainly potential there.”

“Indeed,” Goode added.

“Then keep watching and nurturing,” Agilbert urged. “Now, what of Mr Potter? I do not wish to single him out, but we cannot ignore the hippogriff in the room. You saw the reaction he got from the others even before what happened during the sorting. Tara?”

The woman cleared her throat and looked distinctly uncomfortable.

“Well, there is nothing to note other than the typical rumours of speculation as to what he is doing here instead of Hogwarts, and what happened that night.”

“We expected that,” Agilbert sighed.

“We did, but what I did not expect…”

Tara Clarke shook her head and Agilbert gestured for her to continue.

“That he might just have the potential to be a truly exceptional wizard,” Soloman Day, the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor broke in.

“Truly?” Agilbert pressed.

“Truly, Headmaster,” Patrick answered. “I cannot speak for anyone else, but from what I have seen in his Transfiguration lessons with me, he is exceptional for one his age. He has a much more mature grasp on his magic than I could’ve expected. His practical magic is flawless.”

Agilbert nodded before his attention shifted back to the boys’ Head of House.

“I agree,” Tara declared. “He confirmed that his mother is exceedingly gifted in Charms, but this is not simply an inherited talent. He is already able to use intent-based magic and has the focus to sustain it. It seems to come naturally to him.”

Agilbert hummed.

“Solomon?”

“I have observed the same. I thought that I was perhaps seeing what I hoped for given his history and what happened during his sorting, but it is not so, Headmaster. The boy possesses real talent, and the focus and drive to pursue it. He has been observed outside of the classroom working diligently by Sid and has been ushered from the library just about every evening since he arrived.”

Sid had never liked Agilbert.

The Pukwudgie responsible for overseeing the maintenance of the school was a surly creature at best and was avoided by most.

“So, he has a hunger for knowledge.”

“And something motivating him.”

“Understandable with what he experienced as a babe. His father died protecting him and his mother. I expect that has something to do with Harry Potter being as focused as he is,” Agilbert mused aloud.

“Even so, he has natural talent that exceeds his years, Headmaster,” Tara said confidently.

“Then continue to watch and monitor his progress. If he is indeed a prodigy, I expect we will know soon enough. Now, if there is nothing else, then please, be on your way.”

The members of staff left the office and Agilbert frowned thoughtfully to himself.

He could never have anticipated that during his very first sorting he would witness something of an enigma of a child being chosen by three of the totems.

It did not escape his notice however, that the one totem that did not respond to Harry Potter was the one that revered those possessed in the art of healing; an oddity for one that had survived seemingly the impossible.

The boy was indeed noteworthy, even before he had set foot in Ilvermorny, and now, already, that notoriety seemed to be growing.

If Harry Potter proved to be what he appeared to be showing potential for, then perhaps he would become one of those figures that live on in reputation and spirit, far longer than he would be among them himself.

Agilbert hummed.

The boy could be quite the feather in the cap of Ilvermorny.

The school may not be as old or even as prestigious as Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and even Durmstrang, but it was forever on the up, and one day, Agilbert expected it would be spoken of in the same way the others were.

It was students like Harry Potter that would make it so, but for now, the Headmaster’s focus was on the boy himself and bringing out the very best in him.

That was his job as both and educator, and a man who wished for nothing more than to see those with such potential thrive.

(Break)

He found it rather odd how attuned to magic he seemed to be.

Harry had spent the first week of school watching his peers being challenged by the work they had been set, even those who had been raised in a magical home, but Harry hadn’t.

If anything, he found the work as natural as breathing.

Yes, he worked hard, put in additional hours outside of the classroom, but that did not explain why he was already able to do much of what he was capable of.

Often, it felt as though he’d been doing them for years, that here had merely not done them for some time.

It was a ridiculous thought, and he knew it, but it was the only way he could explain it to himself.

“Do you never sleep?” Olivia asked as she entered the common room.

It was an enormous, circular space with dozens upon dozens of leather chairs and sofas to accommodate the entire house from first through the seventh years.

Harry could only imagine how much bigger the others were for the other houses.

“Oh sleep, oh gentle sleep, nature’s soft nurse…”

Olivia looked at him confusedly.

“It’s a quote from Shakespeare,” he explained dismissively. “My mother reads muggle literature.”

The girl shook her head and eyed the wand in his hand.

“What are you working on?”

“Nothing in particular,” Harry sighed. “Just bonding.”

“With your wand?”

Harry nodded fondly.

“It has a feather in it from a friend.”

Olivia quirked an eyebrow at him.

“A friend?”

“Aurelius,” Harry said with a smile gracing his lips. “He’s a golden griffin I rescued when he was a baby.”

“You’re friends with a griffin. Why am I not surprised?”

Harry could only shrug, though he frowned as the girl took him by the hand and pulled him to his feet.

“Come on, there will be no books today, Harry,” she insisted. “It won’t be so long before the winter comes, and we’re going to watch some Quodpot.”

He allowed himself to be pulled along, humouring the eager girl. Olivia did not release his hand until they were outside of the large stadium in the grounds, and Harry got his first look at a Quodpot pitch.

It was a large oval-shaped field with a pot situated at each end.

“Have you ever seen a game?”

Harry shook his head.

“I sometimes listen to Quidditch matches on the wireless.”

“You really don’t get out much, do you?”

“No, and if my mother had her way, she’d keep me locked up on the ranch forever.”

Olivia frowned but said nothing else on the matter, taking him by the hand once more and leading him up into the stands to where some familiar faces were waiting for them.

“I was beginning to think you were a vampire,” Wendell commented amusedly.

“Well, if I was, I wouldn’t be interested in you.”

Wendell chuckled, and Harry found himself pulled onto the bench by Marisa.

“What is it with girls dragging me around today?” he huffed.

“Get used to it,” Marisa said with a grin. “You need fresh air, and Quodpot is a good way of getting it.”

“Quidditch is better.”

“I’d keep that opinion to yourself if I were you, Potter,” a voice spoke from behind.

Harry turned to see the grinning Adrian Grave seated with Alexandra Wilkinson, who was glaring at him.

He shrugged indifferently.

“Well, I heard you Americans only invented it because you’re crap at Quidditch and couldn’t keep up with the Europeans.”

Adrian snorted amusedly whilst the other natives glared at him.

“No, he has a point,” Adrian placated. “Quidditch is certainly more skilful and dangerous, but our Harry is bound to be biased. Were it not for the war in Britain, his father would likely have been one of the biggest stars in the game.”

“Is that true?” Olivia asked excitedly.

“It is,” Adrian confirmed. “I have it on good authority that he was watched closely by some of the biggest teams in Britain whilst he was at school.”

“Good authority?” Harry asked curiously.

Adrian nodded as he removed something from within his robes.

“The card doesn’t lie.”

Harry frowned as he accepted what was offered, swallowing deeply at the sight of the photo of his father riding what would now be a rather dated broom.

“James Charlus Potter, Prospect Series,” he murmured.

“I don’t think they make those anymore,” Adrian sighed. “It was a thing some time ago in packets of Droobles. You would get the gum and five player cards from the National Quidditch League. There was a few years where they ran the prospect cards, and your father was touted as one to watch for the future.”

Harry’s eyes had not left the image of his father.

He’d seen dozens of photos of the man, had heard of his prowess atop a broom, and even in Transfiguration, but he’d never seen any of the man’s achievements for himself.

This was something different, something that proved that it was not only words spoken to him by his mother or Sirius.

“You can keep that, Harry,” Adrian said gently.

“Where did you get it?”

“Well, I was something of a collector, and a Quidditch fan. When you arrived, I knew your name was familiar beyond everything else, and I wrote to my father to look through the cards. I was certain it was where I had seen the name Potter before. It came this morning in the post.”

Harry nodded appreciatively.

“Thank you,” he said sincerely.

Adrian gave his shoulder a squeeze as he leaned in.

“Think of it as a peace offering. I know it was you that slipped something into our drinks, but I have more important things to focus on than going to war with a keen first year. Truce?”

“Truce,” Harry agreed readily, swatting the older boys’ hand away as he began ruffling his hair.

“Good, now all that remains is to see if you inherited his talent.”

“I don’t want to play Quodpot,” Harry grumbled.

“Well, you don’t have a say in the matter, unless you want to receive a hefty dose of detention. I even brought you a broom,” he added, gesturing to the two resting on the bench he’d been sitting on.

Harry frowned at the grinning prefect.

“Can you even fly?”

“I can fly well enough.”

Alexandra snorted.

“You can fly, but you can’t catch a ball.”

“True,” Adrian conceded. “That is why I’m going to become and Auror and not a Quodpot or Quidditch player. Come on, Potter, no excuses from you. Up we go.”

He thrust one of the brooms into Harry’s chest.

It was a far cry from the Nimbus 2000 Sirius had brought him for his birthday, but it wasn’t a terrible model by any stretch.

Releasing a deep breath, he took it, offering Adrian a grin before launching himself into the sky, revelling in the freedom he always experienced, leaving behind his problems for a much-needed moment of respite.

(Break)

He’d only been gone a little over a week, and though he had written every night, Lily had spent much of the time fretting over the welfare of her son.

Harry had never been away from her for so long, not been out in the world on his own.

It had taken significant convincing from Sirius to allow him to leave in the first place, and now, she was regretting that she had eventually caved.

Was it too late to withdraw him?

Lily shook her head.

Harry would never forgive her, and Lily Potter knew that her son needed this, needed to stretch his wings, to receive a formal education, and experience the highs and lows that life could bring.

He’d certainly experienced the latter of the two.

She released a dep sigh as the front door to the home closed somewhere in the distance.

Lily had never felt isolated being here.

Having been little more than a prisoner in her own home whilst Harry had been a babe, the ranch had felt like true freedom, but now, she wasn’t so sure.

“Lily, we have guests,” Sirius called.

She frowned as she left her room, her eyes widening in surprise as she was greeted by two of the very few people Sirius allowed to visit them here.

“Ted, Andromeda! What are you doing here?”

The man beamed at her, and though Andromeda remained more poised than her husband, she offered her what could only be considered a bright smile coming from a Black.

“Visiting,” the woman answered. “Sirius says that you are struggling with Harry being at school.”

Lily deflated as she nodded.

“I just worry about him.”

“And as a mother, you will spend your life doing so,” Andromeda said amusedly, “and that is without everything else.”

“I know, I just wish…”

“That he was where you can keep an eye on him?” Ted broke in with a chuckle. “Believe me, we went through the same thing with Dora.”

“Even now,” Andromeda grumbled. “She’s now a seventh year and determined to become an Auror.”

“And you don’t want that.”

Andromeda shook her head.

“She is a brilliant witch, a little too much like me beneath her need to get herself into trouble when she is tormented for her abilities, but yes, I would rather she chose something else less dangerous.”

“Well, we always knew she would do something risky,” Sirius interjected. “She’s always had a way of getting herself into trouble, but equally good at getting out of it. I think she will make a fine Auror. Merlin knows Britain could use them.”

Ted nodded his agreement, even if he did appear uneasy about his daughter becoming one.

“How is he doing there?”

“I only know what he tells me, but he seems happy and settling in.”

“Then that is all you can ask for,” Andromeda comforted. “As much as you want to protect him from all the evils in the world, you can’t hide him from it forever. I know it is difficult to let go, believe me, but he will not thank you for it. You know what he is like. He can be a pain in the backside, but you’ve done a great job raising him.”

Lily bit her bottom lip worriedly.

“Maybe.”

“Besides, if he does act up, he will have me to deal with when we come to visit for Christmas.”

“And Dora,” Ted pointed out.

“More like Dora will have Harry to deal with,” Sirius said with a grin.

The metamorph had fallen victim to more than one of Harry and Sirius’s practical jokes over the years, much to her consternation.

Even so, she took it all in good spirit and even had a few successes of her own.

“He’s not near the house, Ted,” Lily assured the man as she caught him furtively looking out of the window. “He’s been miserable since Harry left.”

“Bloody griffin of all things,” the man muttered.

Aurelius tolerated Lily and Sirius’s presence, but he was not so generous with others, unless they were with Harry himself; something Ted Tonks had discovered that for himself whilst simply taking a stroll around the property during his first visit to the house.

Lily had never thought the man could run so fast, but then again, being chased by an irate griffin certainly had a way of making people do the unthinkable.

“Don’t worry, Ted, I won’t let the creature harm you.”

“I doubt you could stop him if he wanted to. If I hadn’t been so quick, he would’ve bitten my arse cheek off rather than giving it a little nip.”

“Do you still have the scar?” Sirius asked curiously.

“He does,” Andromeda confirmed, failing to prevent herself from sounding a little too amused for her husband’s liking.

Ted muttered something incoherent under his breath in response, and Sirius put an arm around the man’s shoulder.

“Come on, let’s get you some nice bourbon,” he suggested. “The Americans can at least get that right.”

The two of them made their way towards Sirius’s study, and Lily offered Andromeda an appreciative smile.

“Thank you,” she said sincerely.

“It’s not easy learning to let go, but before you know it, he won’t be such a small boy anymore. By the time he comes home after his first year, he will have changed.”

“Sirius plans on teaching him your family magic.”

Andromeda nodded approvingly.

“Well, as he is there heir of the family, he should know it, and it will be most useful to him should anyone attempt to cause him harm.”

“Did you learn it?”

“It was the only thing that kept me, Ted, and Dora safe during the war,” Andromeda said gravely. “As much as I do not agree with what most of the Blacks did with it, our magic is a gift to those allowed to study it, and one Harry should not be without.”

Lily released a deep breath.

“I’m sure Harry will be grateful for it. Come on, we’d best not leave the two of them alone for too long. Sirius will get Ted horribly drunk.”

“Then I will hang both of them from one of the barns outside and allow the griffins to do as they please,” Andromeda warned.

Lily didn’t think the woman meant it, but when it came to the Blacks, she had learned long ago that they could threaten someone in a way that was seemingly empty, innocently even, and yet they might well follow through with it anyway.

(Break)

Flying was one of the things she was most excited to experience when she’d learned of it upon arriving at Ilvermorny, but seeing what it entailed for herself, Marisa could not deny that she was nervous, especially with the way that Harry did it.

She knew nothing of the art, but given those around her were staring at the boy with their mouths agape told her that Harry was very good.

Even those that had been immersed in a game of Quodpot had stopped to marvel at the boy, and Marisa frowned.

“Is he good?” she asked for clarity.

It was the wide-eyed Olivia that nodded but said nothing as she continued to watch Harry taking turns around the pitch, flipping beneath his broom to fly upside down, and even flying in what appeared to be impossible angles.

However, it was when he began soaring high above the stadium that those watching were pulled from their surprise.

“What is he doing?” Wendell asked.

Many of the other students began talking animatedly amongst themselves, watching to see where Harry Potter had gone.

“THERE!” someone on the pitch yelled, pointing towards what seemed to be a speck in the sky.

“Goddamn, he is crazy!” Wendall gasped as Harry plummeted towards the stadium.

“He’s going to crash!” Isabelle croaked, covering her eyes.

Marisa could not stop watching.

Despite being filled with horror at the sight of the boy careening towards the ground, she followed him with her eyes, her breath hitching in her chest as he pulled up at the very last moment, barely a foot above the grass.

“My god,” she whispered in her native tongue, shaking her head as the students that had witnessed the spectacle cheered and applauded loudly.

At the sudden eruption, Harry pulled his broom to a sudden stop, looking around in surprise before heading back towards them and dismounting, followed by a pale Adrian Grave.

“What the hell was that, Potter?” the older boy demanded.

“I was just flying,” Harry replied with a shrug.

“Just flying? Hell, I’ve never seen anything like that here. Where did you learn to do that?”

“I can just do it,” Harry answered dismissively.

“You just climbed onto a broom one day and could do it?”

Harry nodded and Adrian snorted.

“You definitely inherited your father’s talent, but you scared the sh…”

“Language, Adrian,” Alexandra chided. “It looks as though Watson will have another player to watch.”

Harry shook his head.

“I’m not going to the trials. I don’t want to play Quodpot.”

He handed Adrian back the broom and began making his way towards the exit, where Marisa and Isabelle followed him.

“Are you okay?” the former asked.

Harry deflated as he nodded.

“I like flying,” he said with a shrug, “and I like throwing a Quaffle around with Sirius, or chasing a Snitch, but I don’t want to play.”

“You don’t have to,” Isabelle comforted, “but can you teach me to fly? Not like you, but before we have to do lessons with the others, can you show me some things.”

“And me,” Marisa requested. “I’ve never flown on a broom before, and don’t want to make a fool of myself.”

Harry’s gaze flitted between the two girls before nodding.

“After dinner tonight,” he agreed. “I’ll meet you both in the foyer.”

He continued on his way and Marisa frowned.

“Why wouldn’t he want to play if he’s good at it?” she mused aloud.

“Maybe it’s painful for him,” Isabelle answered thoughtfully. “If his Father loved Quidditch so much, maybe Harry feels he missed out on something with him.”

Marisa nodded and continued to watch as the boy made his way towards the castle.

It was understandable.

Her own father was a fan of muggle football and often took her and her sisters to matches, something they each enjoyed but would not as much without him.

“What do you think he does?” Isabelle asked. “I haven’t seen him much since we arrived.”

“Is he really famous?”

Isabelle nodded.

“Most in our world know his name.”

“Maybe he doesn’t like that.”

“Or maybe he isn’t used to it,” Isabelle mused aloud. “After what happened, he disappeared, and no one has seen him, not even in Britain.”

“Because he is here.”

“Which no one knew until now,” the French girl pointed out. “Maybe he just needs to get used to people, but he seems nice. Not what I would expect from someone as famous as him.”

Marisa nodded her agreement.

Harry had been nothing but nice to her, had even given her some final encouragement before she’d been sorted and the two had gone their separate ways.

The others in her house had treated her well enough, had been welcoming, but there was a part of her that believed that it would be even better for her if Harry had chosen Thunderbird instead of Wampus.

Not that it truly made much difference.

It wasn’t as though they couldn’t be friends or see each other if they didn’t want to, just like this evening when she would receive her first flying lesson from him.

(Break)

“Let us not pretend that you have not noticed something odd about him, Albus.”

“I am not pretending, Severus. I am merely observing.”

“At an unacceptable risk. If he is to succeed…”

“He will not. It is not possible for him to get what it is he wants.”

“But allowing him in the school amongst the students…”

Albus held up a hand.

“He is weak, Severus, at best, and will not do anything foolish to attract attention to himself, not unless he believe it to be worth doing so. It is the stone he seeks, nothing else.”

The Potions master’s lips curled in distaste.

“And what happens when you are forced to confront him? Quirrell is weak, but in any form, the Dark Lord is not.”

“He is not,” Albus agreed, “but he is still limited. Without his own body and magic, there is little he himself can do. Why else is he relying upon Quirinus to do his bidding?”

Severus shook his head, frowning as a loud knock sounded at the door.

“Come in, Hagrid,” Albus called.

The giant of a man entered, his usually jolly demeanour absent as he approached, holding his crossbow in his hands.

“Professor Dumbledore,” he greeted the headmaster gravely. “I found something in the forest you should see.”

“What is it?” Albus asked worriedly.

“A unicorn, sir, a dead one at that. I don’t know what did it, but the centaurs say it was no creature.”

Severus shot a pointed look towards the headmaster, who released a deep breath.

“Thank you, Hagrid. I will look into it as a priority.”

The large man nodded before leaving the office, closing the door behind him.

Severus waited until his footsteps faded away before speaking, his tone tight and displeased.

“He has cursed himself greatly.”

Albus nodded.

“Quirinus is a fool,” he sighed, “and not powerful enough to sustain the Dark Lord off his own strength.”

“But to rely on such a measure… Does he not know he has cursed himself so?”

“Perhaps not,” Albus said darkly, “but what it is clear is that there is no going back for him, not now. The moment the Dark Lord sees no further purpose in him, he will die.”

Severus nodded his agreement.

Quirrell would indeed perish, paving the way for whatever remained of the Dark Lord to take his body for himself, meaning he wished to take the stone belonging to Flamel to ensure his immortality.

It was a damned foolish game to play, and Severus could not understand why Albus would play it.

“He must be watched closely, Severus,” the headmaster declared. “When the time is right, we must choose our moment carefully to act against him. He cannot be allowed to take the stone, nor to take control of Quirinus. Both or even one would be disastrous.”

“You intend to allow Quirrell to weaken himself so that he might be dealt with without much resistance.”

Albus nodded.

“Quirinus is not without his own talent, and I do not doubt the Dark Lord has taught him much, at least enough that would see him be able to continue fulfilling his current role of hosting him. No, it is for the best that he is weakened as much as we can allow.”

Severus did not like it, but he understood the logic.

The Dark Lord was undoubtedly the most dangerous wizard alive today, and they could take no chances where he was concerned.

(Break)

He hadn’t intended to show off, or make a spectacle of himself.

The only people Harry had ever flown with had been Sirius and Nymphadora and though both had told them he was a talented flier, he’d not considered just how good he was.

He’d often fly with the herd of griffins, and even alone, pushing whatever broom he found himself atop to its limit, but he’d bever seen anything he’d done as beyond the norm, not until today.

Since leaving the Quodpot pitch, he’d spent the rest of the afternoon avoiding his peers, ignoring the compliments sent his way by those he happened across, not knowing how to take their words.

Harry didn’t believe they were mocking him but having only been praised for his ability by Sirius and his second cousin, it was not something he was used to.

“If you really don’t want to play, you should probably tell Adams over there that you’re not interested,” Adrian suggested. “He will approach you, but if you want my thoughts on the matter…”

“You’re going to give them anyway.”

Adrian nudged him with his elbow.

“We are the smallest house by considerable margin and are talent pool is not as wide as the rest of them. We haven’t won a championship in twenty-three years,” he explained. “More than that, I think you could use the outlet. You can’t spend all of your time locked away doing whatever it is you do. It’s not gone unnoticed that you’re not socialising with your peers outside of the classroom, and we all need friends, Harry.”

Harry shook his head.

“I’ve never had friends,” he said with a shrug.

“Well, now you’ve got me,” Adrian said with a grin, “and lots of others,” he added, nodding towards the other first years. “Besides, letting them get to know you will help. They’ll get to see that you’re just like the rest of us, except for being a Quodpot superstar in the making. What happened in Britain, none of us really know much about it, only that it was you that put a stop to it. To us, it’s so far away from here that it means little, but you’re here, and you should use that for some normality.”

“And playing Quodpot is normal?”

Adrian snorted as he shook his head.

“No, only the craziest of people play it, even at school level, but I think you’d enjoy it.”

“You think I’m crazy?”

“Only someone at least a little crazy would spike their prefect’s morning pumpkin juice on their first official day of school,” Adrian pointed out.

“Maybe.”

“Ha! I knew it was you!” Adrian said triumphantly. “Anyway, that is water under the bridge. Just think about what I said, Harry.”

“I will,” he sighed, catching sight of Marisa and Isabelle taking their leave of the hall, each shooting him an expectant look. “For now, I am going to be teaching those two how to fly.”

“Then I won’t keep you any longer.”

Harry offered him a nod before taking his leave of the hall, only to bump into a somewhat familiar girl.

“I owe you an apology.”

“You do?” he asked confusedly.

“From when we bumped into each other. I was quite rude to you, and my mother would be furious.”

“Ah,” Harry said in realisation, vaguely remembering the incident outside the Charms classroom. “Because of who I am?”

The blonde girl frowned as she shook her head.

“No, because she taught me manners,” she replied. “You have no idea who I am, do you?”

The question was not asked with any sense of self-importance, but a tone of surprise.

“Sorry, I don’t.”

The girl eyed him questioningly before laughing.

“Sabine Van Droombeeld,” she introduced herself, offering her hand in a formal manner.

Harry accepted it, kissing the back of her knuckles as Sirius had taught him.

“Harry Potter,” he returned in kind.

The girl offered him a curtsey.

“You have my apologies for my rudeness, Harry,” she sighed. “I thought you had bumped into me on purpose, and it wasn’t until I thought about it after that I realised I wasn’t looking where I was going either, but that is no excuse. I have been looking out for you, but t seems you’re not around so much.”

“It’s fine,” Harry said dismissively. “Just a misunderstanding that is behind us.”

Sabine offered him a smile.

“Thank you for being understanding, and don’t be a stranger. You certainly make this place more interesting. Nice flying, by the way. If you keep it up, I expect my father will be in touch when you’re older. He owns the New York Hollows.”

“I have no idea what that is.”

Sabine laughed once more as she shook her head.

“I’ll see you around, Harry Potter. It was nice to meet you, and clear up our misunderstanding, as you put it.”

Harry watched the retreating girl curiously.

It was a rather odd exchange, and in truth, he had forgotten about the incident entirely until Sabine had spoken of it.

He shook his head as he took his leave of the castle and made his way towards the stadium where Isabelle and Marisa were waiting for him.

“Are you okay?” the latter asked.

“I’m fine,” Harry assured her, though Marisa did not seem convinced. “Shall we?”

Both girls nodded as they clutched the brooms they had evidently retrieved from the shed whilst waiting for him.

“To start with, you need to place them on the floor and stand at the side of it where you can catch it in the hand you use most.”

“Why?”

“Because you need to show it that you are confident, that it can trust you as a rider.”

“Are you sure about this?” Marisa asked. “This isn’t one of your jokes to make us look stupid, is it?”

Harry chuckled amusedly as he held up his hands reassuringly.

“I promise, it is no joke.”

He placed his own broom on the ground next to him before hovering his right hand over it.

“Up!” It immediately shot into his waiting hand as he offered both girls a triumphant grin. “Now, it is your turn.”

Neither were so confident, and Harry did his utmost not to laugh as the brooms acted up, and Marisa’s even rolled away from her in her protest, forcing the girl to chase it across half the length of the Quodpot pitch.

“It’s not funny!” she protested when she managed to return with it.

“It is a little bit funny, but don’t worry, you will get there. It just takes practice.”

Marisa nodded before placing the broom back on ground, only for it to begin rolling away from her again.

“Don’t laugh, Harry,” she warned.

He managed not to for a moment, but as Isabelle’s followed suit and the two girls began giving chase to their wayward mounts, Harry could not help himself.

Seeing them scrambling after their brooms was something he would not forget in a hurry but he had meant what he’d said. They would get it soon enough but between now and then, Harry would be grateful for the entertainment.