Harry Potter: Awakening the Unknown

The morning light filtered into the Great Hall as students bustled about, filling their plates and chatting over breakfast. The enchanted ceiling reflected the clear sky outside, promising good weather for the day.

Harry, Hermione, and Neville found their usual seats at the Ravenclaw and Gryffindor tables, exchanging tired but eager glances as owls swooped in, delivering the morning post.

Harry was pretty excited while looking over the paper, "I think we have flying class today!"

Neville paled at the mention of flying. "I was hoping we'd have a few more days before that."

"It'll be fine," Harry assured him. "It's just about balance, right?"

"You've never flown before either," Hermione pointed out, though her voice carried more concern than scolding.

"No, but how hard can it be?" Harry said with a shrug. "We're all starting at the same level."

Neville didn't look reassured. Across the table, Seamus Finnigan, a fellow Gryffindor, grinned at them. "You lot nervous about flying? Don't worry, it's just like falling—except you try not to hit the ground."

"That's not helping, Seamus," Neville muttered.

Dean Thomas, seated beside him, chuckled. "You'll be fine, mate. It's Malfoy you'll have to watch out for—his family probably had him flying before he could walk."

Harry frowned at the mention of Malfoy. Their last encounter on the train had left a bad impression, and he had little doubt the Slytherin boy would be insufferable today.

Breakfast continued with more chatter, and soon it was time for their first classes. The morning passed in a blur.

Then came the afternoon.

The first-years gathered on the school's training grounds, where a row of old school brooms lay waiting for them on the grass. Madame Hooch, a sharp-eyed woman with short, silver hair, stood before them, arms crossed as she surveyed the students.

"Well? What are you waiting for?" she barked. "Stand by a broom. Stick out your hand and say 'Up!'"

"Up!" the students chorused.

Harry's broom leapt into his grasp at once, as if it had been waiting for him. He smirked, pleased with himself.

Hermione, frowning in concentration, struggled at first, her broom twitching on the ground before finally lifting into her hand. She gave a triumphant little nod but still looked uncertain.

Neville, on the other hand, barely managed a weak wobble from his broom. He kept glancing around nervously, as if expecting the broom to suddenly launch him into the sky.

"Firm voice, Longbottom!" Madame Hooch called. "Confidence is key!"

Neville took a deep breath, then tried again. This time, the broom snapped into his palm—but the moment he gripped it, it jerked him into the air.

"W-Wait—!" Neville yelped, but the broom shot upward. He spun wildly, arms flailing, as the broom twisted and bucked.

"Come down this instant!" Madame Hooch shouted, but it was too late—Neville tumbled off, landing hard on the grass with a pained groan.

Several students gasped, while Malfoy laughed loudly.

Madame Hooch hurried over, kneeling beside Neville. "Broken wrist," she muttered. "Come on, we're taking you to the hospital wing."

As she helped Neville to his feet and led him away, she threw a sharp look at the remaining students. "None of you are to fly while I'm gone. If I catch anyone in the air, you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quidditch.'"

She disappeared into the castle, leaving them unsupervised.

The moment Madame Hooch was out of sight, Malfoy strutted forward, bending down to pick up something from the grass.

Neville's Remembrall.

Harry recognized it instantly, the small glass sphere shimmered faintly in Malfoy's palm.

"Oh, look," Malfoy sneered, tossing the ball into the air and catching it. "Longbottom's forgotten something. Again."

"Give that back," Harry said coldly.

Malfoy smirked. "Why should I? He's not here to take it."

Hermione stepped forward. "Professor McGonagall will hear about this."

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "What's she going to do? Send me a stern letter? Please." He swung his leg over his broom. "Tell you what, Potter—I'll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find. Let's see if he can remember where."

Before anyone could stop him, Malfoy kicked off the ground, soaring upward.

Harry acted without thinking, grabbing his broom, swung onto it, and pushed off.

The rush of wind hit him instantly, but his body adjusted effortlessly. It was like he had been flying his whole life. The broom responded to every slight movement, every thought. He streaked after Malfoy, who looked genuinely surprised for a moment before sneering.

"Trying to keep up, Potter?"

Malfoy arched higher, holding the Remembrall out tauntingly.

Harry didn't answer—he simply leaned forward, pushing his broom into a dive. He shot downward, then pulled up hard, accelerating toward Malfoy.

For the first time, Malfoy looked nervous.

With a flick of his wrist, he tossed the Remembrall high into the air. "Catch it if you can!"

Harry's instincts took over, his eyes locked on the spinning glass sphere. The wind roared past his ears.

He reached out...

And caught it just before it hit the ground.

A stunned silence followed.

Then, applause erupted.

Even the Ravenclaws and Gryffindors who had been watching in shock cheered.

"That was brilliant!" Dean Thomas shouted.

Hermione, who had been holding her breath, exhaled sharply. "That was reckless, Harry."

Harry landed smoothly, gripping the Remembrall tightly. He turned to Malfoy, who was scowling.

"Guess you lost your game," Harry said coolly, tossing the ball to Hermione.

Malfoy's lips curled in irritation, but before he could make any snarky comments, a loud voice boomed.

"POTTER!"

Harry turned to see Professor McGonagall striding toward them, her expression unreadable.

McGonagall didn't scold him immediately. Instead, she scrutinized him for a long moment. "Follow me, Potter."

Hermione shot him a worried look as he walked away with the professor. They entered the castle, weaving through the halls, until McGonagall stopped outside an office.

She knocked once before opening the door.

Inside sat a Professor Flitwick.

"Ah, Mr. Potter," Flitwick greeted warmly. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

McGonagall turned to Harry. "I saw what you did out there. That level of flying isn't normal for a first-year."

Harry shifted, unsure how to respond. "I just… reacted."

Flitwick smiled. "Indeed. That was some excellent maneuvering."

McGonagall folded her arms. "First years can't join a Quidditch team, Potter. But you will be watched closely."

Harry blinked. "I—er, alright."

Flitwick chuckled. "That was impressive work, young man. You've earned Ravenclaw five points."

Harry exhaled, relieved.

As he returned to his friends, Hermione frowned at him. "No detention?"

"Nope," Harry grinned. "And Ravenclaw got points."

Hermione huffed. "Still reckless."

But there was a glimmer of admiration in her eyes.