The Gift of Light

It's funny, I didn't think it'd happen again. That feeling, the one where the world feels just a bit too small and I can almost taste the sun in the air. But here I am, again, at Hogwarts. And this time—this time, I've got a new broom. It's not the old, rickety thing I used to ride when I was small. This one's custom-made, polished, sleek, with golden accents running down the handle like lightning. It's mine, and it's fast. And as the wind rips through my hair and the broom hums beneath me, I know something's different. This time, I'll make it. This time, I'll get the sun.

I'm soaring through the sky, heading up higher than I ever have. The clouds roll beneath me like cotton, soft and far away, and the sun feels close enough to touch. It's not just a fruit anymore, it's a challenge. It's an invitation.

And then, I see it.

A flash of gold, a streak of light through the sky. At first, I think it's just the sun, its glare tricking my eyes. But no, it's something else. Something alive. A creature. It's a bird—or something like it, but its wings are massive, each one rippling with what looks like liquid fire. It's like nothing I've ever seen before, shimmering with colors I can't name, darting between clouds and gliding higher, as if daring me to follow.

And so, I do. I push my broom faster, grinning as I feel the wind rush past me, my body leaning into the motion. I'm not just racing the sun now; I'm racing this creature too. It's exhilarating, a feeling like nothing else. My heart beats so loudly in my chest it feels like it might burst out. The creature is fast, but I'm faster, or at least, I like to think I am. We weave between the clouds, twisting and turning, both of us chasing something just out of reach.

The sun's ahead, waiting. It's almost within my grasp.

But the creature suddenly pulls up, climbing higher, its wings flapping with a thunderous sound that vibrates in my bones. I can't let it win. Not this time. So, I push harder, harder than I've ever gone before. The broom groans beneath me, and the world blurs around me as I surge toward the sky.

The sun's light is blinding, and the world is spinning faster and faster. My fingers stretch, my chest tight with the effort. It's just there. One more second. I can feel it, feel the burn in my lungs, in my muscles. I'll reach it.

But then, the broom dips. A slip. A wobble. And then, I'm falling.

I don't scream. I don't think. I just fall, the wind rushing past me like it's laughing. The ground is coming up so fast. And all I can think is, Not again. Not again.

I close my eyes and wait for the impact.

But it doesn't come.

Instead, I land softly, like something caught me mid-air, slowing me down just enough that my fall turns into a gentle roll across the grass. I blink, confused, trying to catch my breath. The sky above me is clear now, and the sun's golden glow is fading as the world settles into a soft hum of quiet.

I sit up, shaking my head as I try to clear the fog in my mind. My broom is beside me, still upright as if nothing happened. But something else catches my attention.

A feather.

It's soft and golden, shimmering in the grass beside me. It looks... familiar. No, it's not just familiar—it's from the creature. I know it. I know it. There's a pull inside me, a kind of recognition. The feather is warm in my hand, pulsing softly like it has a heartbeat of its own.

I don't know how it got there, but I know this much: the creature didn't just leave it behind by accident. It gave it to me. It's a gift, an invitation. A sign.

And as I look at the feather, I realize that maybe the sun isn't what I'm really after. Maybe the real thing I'm reaching for isn't just that golden fruit in the sky. Maybe it's something deeper, something more than just a race.

Maybe it's a connection. A bond.

Maybe, just maybe, the creature wants to be with me. And I think—no, I know—that I want that too.