Saturday – Slytherin Common Room
Malfoy jabbed a finger at a notice pinned on the wall and announced with great enthusiasm, "Look! Flying lessons start next Thursday! And we're with the Gryffindors! Finally time to show those losers what real flying looks like…"
He launched into a dramatic tale about how he'd been trained at home to fly with expert skill, how he soared freely through the sky, and even concluded his story with a harrowing dodge of a Muggle helicopter.
Immediately, the first-year students from wizarding families began excitedly chattering about Quidditch.
Anne, however, got up and left just as Malfoy was about to start his speech. She wasn't about to waste her time listening to an 11-year-old with an overinflated ego bragging.
She made her way to Professor Sprout's greenhouse. Lately, she'd been spending all her free time there, and she'd recently discovered that Professor Sprout had quite the interest in magical foods as well.
"Hey, Professor Sprout, good morning!" Anne called out as she entered, spotting the professor tending to some plants.
"Oh, Anne~! Good morning! Not at the library today? Or with Fanny?" Professor Sprout greeted her with a cheerful smile.
"Fanny's at the library doing research. The weather's so nice today, I figured I'd spend some time in nature instead. Are you working on the Fogtooth Leaves? Need a hand?"
"Oh, Anne, you always surprise me! That's a fourth-year plant. Let me test you, do you know how to handle it?"
Anne nodded. "Of course. First, you need to clamp the large leaves with a peachwood clip, then gently spray the roots with Asphodel extract. Gloves are a must. After that, trim the protrusions from the smaller leaves."
"Do you even know about Asphodel? Oh, Anne, I truly wish you were in Hufflepuff."
"Professor, I've been thinking the same lately," Anne grinned. "But I do like Slytherin's common room. So I guess I'll just make the best of where I am."
"Well, clever Anne, come on then. Talking is one thing, but let's see if you can put it into practice."
Anne spent the whole morning among the plants in the greenhouse. By the time she arrived in the Great Hall for lunch, it was already bustling.
At the Gryffindor table, Ron was loudly debating with Dean Thomas, a Muggle-born student, over whether football or Quidditch was better. Harry sat nearby, eating quietly, occasionally listening in, he hadn't seen a Quidditch match before and knew little about football either. Hermione had a book open in front of her, reading diligently as she nibbled on her bread. Neville, who had grown up in a wizarding family but had never touched a broom, craned his neck to see what Hermione was reading.
At the Slytherin table, Malfoy was still boasting about his brave childhood flying escapades. The other house tables weren't much different, Quidditch was the buzzword of the day.
As Anne passed by, the word seemed to echo in her ears from every direction.
She sat down next to Fanny with a sigh. "Flying lessons aren't until Thursday. That means I have to endure five more days of this? Torture."
Fanny calmly swallowed her bite of food before turning to her. "Anne, I thought you'd be the type to enjoy this kind of competition."
"I could never be interested in something so childish and testosterone-fueled," Anne replied as she scooped up some mashed potatoes. "If we're talking about ball games, I prefer snooker."
"Testosterone-fueled? I know snooker, but Anne, have you ever actually played it?"
"Hormones, Fanny. Testosterone is a chemical in the human body. And snooker… well, of course not," Anne caught herself. She was supposed to be eleven, after all. "I've just seen it on TV. Looks cool though, doesn't it?"
"Uh, okay… but, " Fanny looked like she had more questions.
Anne cut her off. "Fanny, please don't ask me what hormones are, or why the human body produces them…"
"…Alright, then, "
"Also, don't ask what book I read it in. Fanny, if you don't drink your milk soon, it'll go cold." Anne pointed at Fanny's untouched cup.
Fanny gave her a slightly hurt look but didn't press further. She picked up her milk.
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Wednesday Afternoon
After Herbology Class
With no classes for the rest of the day, Anne and Fanny headed to the library to finish their Astronomy, History of Magic, and Transfiguration homework.
Let's at least finish one subject today, Anne thought.
They had only just begun when Anne came across a question that required further research. "Ugh… so annoying…" she muttered, getting up and heading for the second floor of the library.
She already knew exactly where to go. On her first visit, she had memorized the layout, what subjects were on which floors, which shelves held what.
She found the astronomy section easily, grabbed two books, and was on her way back down when a familiar silhouette caught her eye.
She paused. That back looked very familiar, and it had disappeared into the Quidditch section.
Hogwarts doesn't have many people I recognize… and at this time of day in the library, it has to be Hermione. She was still reading about Quidditch? Since Saturday?
That was such a waste of time. Athletic ability was mostly based on talent. Books couldn't help you much with that.
Feeling a rare sense of responsibility to guide her peers toward better study habits, Anne walked over.
"What are you reading?"
The sudden voice startled Hermione, but once she saw it was Anne, she quickly relaxed. She silently turned the book so Anne could read the title: Quidditch Through the Ages.
"Hermione," Anne began, "sports rely heavily on talent. Sure, books can help you a bit, but with Quidditch, honestly, you're just wasting time."
Hermione's brows furrowed. Her voice rose with frustration. "You're here to mock me too? I didn't grow up on a broom like the rest of you wizard kids! These 'pointless books' are the only way I can learn about Quidditch!"
Okay, trying to help people sometimes comes with the risk of being misunderstood. Anne sighed.
"Let me explain. My parents were both wizards, yes, but only my mother was pureblood. They died when I was young. I was sent to an orphanage when I was eight. Until I got my Hogwarts letter, I knew as much about the wizarding world as you do."
Hermione's expression shifted to surprise. She opened her mouth but didn't know what to say.
"I'm just saying, you've been reading about Quidditch since Saturday. I'm sure by now you've memorized everything about broomsticks. But sports aren't like potions or spells. Take swimming, for example, reading ten books about it won't teach you what one hour in a pool can. These books are fine for passing the time, but don't invest so much energy into them."
Hermione flushed and mumbled, "I just… don't want to fall behind. I want to prove I'm not worse than anyone else."
Such a stubborn child, Anne thought. But it was understandable. Alright, time to play big sister again.
"Hermione, let's say you don't do well in flying class tomorrow. So what? That doesn't mean anything. Everyone has different strengths. I'm great at Herbology, but I'm terrible at Transfiguration. You might not be great on a broomstick, but you're amazing in class. And besides, flying gets easier with practice. The others have been training for years, so what if they're better? There's no shame in that. Oh, and by the way, flying class doesn't count toward grades!"
Anne finished with a dry throat. "Anyway, that's all I wanted to say. If you want to keep reading about Quidditch, be my guest. Bye."
She walked away, leaving Hermione staring after her.
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Thursday
Flying Class
It was a clear day, with a gentle breeze.
Anne, Fanny, and the three other girls from their dormitory walked together, unusual, since the Slytherin boys had already bolted out of the Great Hall straight to the front lawn where class would be held.
"They act like getting there first means they'll get to fly first," muttered Pansy Parkinson, a short girl with dark brown hair who liked to hang around Malfoy.
Anne silently agreed.
When they arrived, only the Slytherins were there. Their class had 15 students, 5 girls and 10 boys. Thirty-five broomsticks lay on the ground.
Malfoy was holding one and looking disgusted. "This thing's worse than the broom we use at home to sweep the floors. Can this even fly?"
His friends all chimed in, agreeing loudly.
Soon the Gryffindors arrived, followed by their flying instructor, Madam Hooch. She had short, gray hair and piercing yellow eyes like an eagle's.
"Well, what are you waiting for?" she barked. "Everyone stand next to a broom. Hurry up!"
Anne looked down at her broom. It was old and worn, its twigs sticking out at odd angles. For once, she found herself agreeing with Malfoy.
"Stick out your right hand, over your broom, and say, 'Up!'" Madam Hooch instructed.
"UP!" everyone shouted.
To Anne's surprise, her broom jumped straight into her hand. Only a few others had similar success, Malfoy and Harry among them. Hermione's broom rolled over a bit. Neville's didn't budge at all.
Once everyone had a broom in hand, Madam Hooch demonstrated how to mount it properly and hovered through the rows correcting their grips. She pointed out errors for every single student.
"All right. When I blow my whistle, you're going to kick off hard from the ground. Hold your broom steady, rise a few feet, lean forward slightly, and come straight back down. On my whistle. Three, two, "
But Neville, too nervous to be left behind, kicked off early.
"Come back down, boy!" Madam Hooch shouted. But it was too late. Neville soared into the air, clinging to his broom with terror in his eyes. Then he lost balance and fell with a thud onto the grass.
His broom continued to climb higher and eventually vanished toward the Forbidden Forest.
Madam Hooch rushed over. She looked almost as pale as Neville.
"Broken wrist," Anne heard her mutter. "Come now, up you get."
She helped Neville to his feet and turned to the rest of the class. "I'm taking him to the hospital wing. Nobody moves a muscle! Brooms on the ground, anyone so much as says 'Quidditch,' and I'll have you out of Hogwarts before you can blink!"
No sooner had she left than Malfoy started cackling. "Did you see his face? That big oaf?"
His goons laughed along.
The Gryffindors glared daggers at him.
Then Malfoy spotted something. He picked up a small white glass orb that had fAaron where Neville crashed. It sparkled in the sunlight.
"Look at this! That oaf Longbottom's gran sent him this thing!"
Harry stepped forward. "Give it here, Malfoy."
Malfoy sneered, jumped onto his broom, and floated up. "Come get it, Potter! Maybe I'll leave it on a tree branch."
Harry grabbed a broom.
"No!" Hermione cried. "Madam Hooch said, " But Harry was already airborne.
He flew smoothly, stopping right in front of Malfoy.
The Gryffindors, except Hermione, cheered. Anne sighed, what a bunch of impulsive kids.
Still, the orb in Malfoy's hand looked familiar. She turned to Fanny. "Fanny, what's that thing Malfoy's holding?"
Fanny glanced away from the sky. "It's Neville's Remembrall. His gran sent it this morning. By the way, where were you? You missed breakfast."
"I was at the greenhouse. My uncle's package arrived yesterday," Anne replied. But something about the orb looked different from hers. Ever since the map incident, she'd been extra cautious about anything Aaron gave her.
"What does it do?" she asked. Fanny explained, "If you forget something, it turns red."
So it wasn't the same after all. Anne was relieved. "Isn't there another orb like that, one that records past images? Like a Muggle camera?"
"You mean a Recall Orb, right?"
"Oh, I see." Anne nodded.
While they chatted, Malfoy tossed the Remembrall and Harry caught it just inches from the ground.
Unfortunately, Professor McGonagall had seen the whole thing, and she was now marching toward the field at lightning speed.
"Harry Potter!" she shouted. "In all my years at Hogwarts, " Then she marched him off.
Malfoy and his cronies laughed triumphantly. "He's gonna be expelled for sure!"
Thanks to the two incidents, flying class ended early. But on the way back to the castle, Fanny frowned the whole way.
Anne spun a Knut in her fingers and glanced at the two Slytherin boys tailing them. She sighed and asked, "Fanny, what's wrong? Still thinking about earlier?"
Fanny looked surprised that Anne had noticed, but nodded. "I know I shouldn't question professors' decisions, but it was clearly Malfoy's fault, and yet Professor McGonagall…"
Anne didn't answer directly. Instead, she asked, "Do you think Professor McGonagall is powerful? And what do you think of Harry?"
Fanny hesitated, but answered honestly. "She's definitely powerful, Head of Gryffindor, really skilled. And Harry... I don't know him well, but he doesn't seem like a bad person."
Anne nodded. "Exactly. So do you think someone like Professor McGonagall only saw Harry misbehaving and not the whole picture? If you can tell Harry's not a bad kid, don't you think she can too? He's not going to be expelled."
Fanny's eyes brightened. "You're right!"
Anne glanced at the two boys who suddenly turned and walked faster. She muttered under her breath, "Might even turn out lucky for him."
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A/N: After watching Fantastic Beasts, I was struck again by how vast Rowling's magical world is.
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