chapter 15

I woke up early, my body still aching from the previous night's training in the Room of Requirement. Stretching, feeling the familiar pull of muscles that had worked hard to push my magical limits. Flying was on the schedule for today, but the excitement that gripped the other students didn't reach me the same as it did them. Flying seemed fun, sure, but it didn't ignite the same passion magic did. Flying was something to enjoy leisurely in my opinion, but some had different feelings about it which I can respect.

I slid out of bed quietly, careful not to wake my dormmates. I was already focused on the rest of the day, but my morning routine would help clear the remnants of sleep from my mind and body. Dressing in some athletic clothes and grabbing my wand, I made my way out of the castle and toward the Black Lake for some fresh air.

The grounds were peaceful at this hour, the sun just beginning to rise over the treetops. The lake's surface shimmered in the early morning light, reflecting a calm and soothing feeling. I began withTai Chi stretches, moving fluidly, letting my mind center on the movements and the rhythm of my breathing. The simple, meditative exercise helped balance my thoughts, clearing away any lingering tension from the previous night's training.

With the stretches complete, I pointed my wand toward the water, now was time to practice control and imaginative process of magic. The water rippled in response, rising in gentle waves before settling back into its stillness. I practiced my control by weaving the water in and out of patterns, my mind focused entirely on the precision of my movements.

I smiled to myself as I took in the moment. This was what I've grown love—magic in its purest form, quiet and controlled, flowing seamlessly through me. With a small flick of my wand, the surface of the lake rippled in response, small waves dancing as they twisted upward, forming slender tendrils that hovered in midair. I guided the water with delicate precision, shaping the liquid into various forms.

Deciding to start with a simple creation I thought of forming a sleek serpent, its long body twisting through the air in graceful, fluid movements. The water glistened in the early morning light, giving the serpent an almost translucent glow as it coiled and uncoiled, moving with a hypnotic grace. I smiled, watching as the serpent seemed to swim through the air, its watery form shimmering as it twisted around itself.

The serpent dissipated into a splash of droplets that rained down onto the grass by the lake.

As the droplets fell I flicked my wand crafting group of delicate butterflies, the wings fragile and intricate as they fluttered with a gentle rhythm. The tiny water creatures floated lightly above the surface of the lake, moving with such subtlety that it seemed almost ethereal. They flitted from side to side before disappearing back into the water, leaving only a few ripples behind.

I paused, watching as my creations merged back with the lake's surface. I felt my heart was calm, and my mind clear. This was what magic was to me—creation, control, and a connection to the world around me. I felt more at peace here, where his magic flowed naturally.

Satisfied, I made my way back toward the castle. Today's flying lesson would be with the Gryffindors, and though I wasn't particularly eager about it, it was important to at least get the basics down. Brooms weren't like wands—I couldn't manipulate them with spells or control them as easily. They required a different kind of balance and finesse. Some had natural talent for it, but I doubted I was as gifted in the sport as Harry was.

As I approached the Quidditch pitch, Greyson noticed the growing crowd of students. The air buzzed with excitement, particularly from the Gryffindor side, where Harry and Ron were gathered. Ron, of course, gave me his usual sour look as I passed by. I wasn't surprised; Ron had made it clear that he didn't trust him, especially after the troll incident. Hermione and Harry, however, gave him a polite nod, which he returned. Harry seemed to be warming up to my presence after the troll incident.

Madam Hooch, the flying instructor, stood in the center of the pitch, her broom in hand. Her sharp eyes surveyed the students, ensuring no one was fooling around with their brooms before the lesson started.

"Everyone gather around!" she barked, her voice cutting through the chatter. The students hurried to form a semicircle around her. "Today, we'll be learning the basics of broomstick control. Place your broomsticks on the ground in front of you and stand to the left side. When I say 'Up,' you will command your broom to rise. Got it?"

I glanced down at the broom at my feet. It felt light and foreign compared to my wand that I've grown a connect with over these 2 months.

"On my count. Ready? Up!" Madam Hooch called.

"Up!" I said, a little slower than the others. My broom rose calmly at a slow pace, landing in my hand. I saw that Harry's broom had responded instantly, as though it had been waiting for him, while Ron was given a rather passionate kiss to the face by his broom.

"Now mount your brooms, but don't take off yet," Madam Hooch instructed, eyeing the group sternly.

Mounting the broom, feeling the strange sensation of sitting on a broom but was oddly comfortable probably due to the ruins placed on it, definitely a piece of magic to look into later.

After my short daydreaming of the art of ruins, I gripped on the broomstick firmly, but not tight. I knew enough to stay relaxed, even if I wasn't particularly confident in his flying abilities.

"When I blow my whistle, I want you all to kick off from the ground, rise a few feet, and hover. Keep steady—this isn't a race!" Madam Hooch warned, eyeing the more enthusiastic students, particularly Draco Malfoy, who looked ready to shoot into the sky at the first opportunity.

I braced myself, my heart beating a little faster. I wasn't afraid of heights, but the idea of losing control on a broom unsettled me slightly.

The whistle blew, and I kicked off. For a moment, my stomach lurched as the broom wobbled beneath me, but I quickly steadied it, rising a few feet off the ground. The sensation was odd—lighter than walking, but less stable than standing on solid ground. I floated there, feeling the broom sway slightly as the wind caught it. It wasn't unpleasant, but it wasn't something that I would like to do all the time, I'd rather apperate.

Around me, the other students were having varying degrees of success. Harry was flying effortlessly, as though he had been born with a broom in his hand. Ron, on the other hand, was wobbling dangerously, his face pale as he struggled to maintain control. Now Hermione looked like she was going to be sick, as she floated only a few fear in the air, it was rather comical.

It was then that Neville Longbottom lost control completely. His broom shot up into the air, carrying him higher and higher as he clung to it in terror. The students watched in shock as Neville rose far above the pitch, his panicked shouts echoing down to them.

"Neville! Come back down!" Madam Hooch shouted, but it was too late. Neville's broom jerked violently, throwing him off. For a terrifying moment, Neville dangled from one of the castle's stone gargoyles, his robe holding for dear life. But its dexterity didn't last. With a yelp, Neville fell, crashing to the ground below with a sickening thud.

Madam Hooch rushed over to Neville, her face grim. "Broken wrist," she muttered, helping Neville to his feet. "Come on, boy, let's get you to the hospital wing."

As Madam Hooch escorted Neville away, the rest of the students remained getting off their broom as instructed by Madam Hooch before she left with Neville. That's when Draco Malfoy decided to make his move.

Spotting Neville's Remembrall on the ground, Draco snatched it up, tossing it in the air with a grin. "Look what Longbottom dropped!" he called out, his voice dripping with amusement.

Harry's jaw clenched as he stepped forward. "Give it here, Malfoy!"

Draco smirked, clearly relishing the attention. "Why don't you come and get it, Potter?"

I was still hovering on my broom, watched the scene unfold with mild amusement. I wasn't particularly invested in the rivalry between Harry and Draco. This was their battle, not mine, and I honestly had no interest in getting involved. I floated back slightly, content to observe from a distance.

Draco's smirk only widened. "Why don't you come and get it, Potter?"

With a sharp kick, Draco's broom shot into the air. He soared high above the pitch, laughing as he tossed the Remembrall higher into the air, catching it lazily each time it fell. The rest of the students looked up, some murmuring nervously, others—mainly the Slytherins—watching with amusement. Madam Hooch had disappeared with Neville, leaving the students unattended, and it was clear Draco planned to take full advantage of that.

Harry's face darkened with determination, and in one swift motion, he mounted his broom. He kicked off hard from the ground, the broom responding almost instinctively to his will. Hovering off to the side, I couldn't help but notice how naturally Harry moved on the broom—almost as if he had been flying his whole life. Harry rocketed into the air, the wind catching his hair as he gained speed.

Draco, still tossing the Remembrall in the air, glanced back over his shoulder and saw Harry gaining on him. His smirk faltered for a second, but then his eyes lit up with mischief.

"Think you can catch me, Potter?" Draco taunted, his voice echoing across the pitch. He turned his broom sharply, swerving toward the castle. I watched with mild interest as Draco led Harry away from the Quidditch pitch showing some rather decent skill on his end as well, their brooms now streaking across the sky, high above the school grounds.

Just as Harry began closing the gap between them, Draco pulled the Remembrall back, his hand poised as if he were about to toss it casually into the air again. But this time, Draco changed his tactic. With a wicked grin, he hurled the Remembrall—not into the air, but straight toward one of the castle's stone walls.

For a split second, the glass orb glinted in the sunlight as it soared through the air, speeding toward the rough stone surface. Draco's laughter rang out across the field. "Let's see you catch that, Potter!"

Harry didn't hesitate. Without thinking, he leaned forward on his broom, and in an instant, he shot forward at breakneck speed. His broom seemed to respond to his every thought, accelerating so fast that the students below gasped. The wind roared in Harry's ears as the ground blurred beneath him, but his focus never wavered from the Remembrall, which was hurtling closer and closer to the castle wall.

The crowd below fell silent, all eyes on Harry as he raced against time. The Remembrall was mere feet from smashing into the wall, but Harry didn't slow down. If anything, he sped up, diving straight for the ground, his body flattening against the broom to minimize resistance.

Just as the Remembrall was about to make impact, Harry's hand shot out. His fingers closed around the glass orb a mere second before it could shatter against the stone wall. With a sharp twist of his broom, Harry pulled out of the dive at the last possible moment, skimming the ground as he leveled out and landed lightly on the grass. His landing was smooth, and he stood with the Remembrall clutched triumphantly in his hand, his chest heaving from the exertion.

The Gryffindors erupted into cheers, their voices carrying across the pitch. Even some of the Slytherins, including myself, couldn't help but feel impressed. Harry had moved with an instinctive grace that made it clear he was born to fly.

Draco's face, however, was a mask of frustration. He landed roughly a few feet away, his smirk now gone, replaced by a sneer. "You think you're something special, don't you, Potter?" Draco spat, but the jealousy in his voice was unmistakable.

Harry didn't respond. He simply handed the Remembrall to Ron to give to Neville later. Ron though seemed like a princess looking at Harry with a mixture of awe and admiration. I remained in the background, watching the scene unfold with an amused expression. I had no desire to join the crowd or celebrate with the Gryffindors, but he had to admit—Harry's talent was undeniable.

Just then, Madam Hooch returned to the pitch, her sharp eyes sweeping over the group. "What's going on here?" she demanded, clearly sensing that something had happened in her absence. But before anyone could answer, Professor McGonagall appeared, her expression serious as she strode toward Harry.

"Mr. Potter," she said briskly. "Come with me."

The students exchanged curious glances, whispering amongst themselves as Harry followed Professor McGonagall back toward the castle. Most assumed he was in trouble for flying without permission. McGonagall's expression hadn't been one of anger—there had been something else in her eyes, something that suggested Harry's skill had caught her attention in more ways than one.

As the students began to disperse, Ron and Hermione exchanged worried whispers, mainly Hermione thinking he will be expelled for not listen to Madam Hooch. Draco, on the other hand, smirked as he watched Harry disappear into the castle. His earlier arrogance had grown, and it was clear he was happy about be Harry getting caught, though little did he know, he started the rise of one fantastic seeker.

I floated back to the ground, my feet touching the grass gently as he dismounted his broom, slightly surprised the professor didnt yell at me for being the air still. I hadn't been particularly invested in the flying lesson, but watching Harry's performance had been entertaining, to say the least. I walked past the other students, content to let them revel in their excitement.

I remained quiet, watching the others as they speculated about what Professor McGonagall wanted with Harry. I didn't need to join in the conversation—I already knew Harry had just earned himself a spot on the Quidditch team, though as well as the wrath of Hermione when he got back.