"Er... May I sit down?" a timid voice came from next to Harry. He looked up to see its owner: the same shaggy girl from the train whom he had helped look for Neville Longbottom's toad.
"Of course," the boy smiled, pulling out a chair for the girl, causing her to blush in embarrassment - but Potter was already used to that. "A red tie suits you very well," he made a small compliment, enjoying another wave of embarrassment that reached him through the warp.
"Th-thank you," the girl muttered and sat down next to him. "What are you reading?" she asked, glancing slightly at the book open in front of Harry.
"Goblin Wars, from Merlin to the Present Day," Harry lifted the cover, showing the title. "Quite an interesting read, I must say."
- Wow! - she looked at him, slightly surprised. - And you also read...
In general, they got along. Then again, Harry generally got along with most people he met - he was a handsome and charming boy, polite and smart.
But there were exceptions among those around him. For example, Potions Professor Severus Snape.
Snape, according to the Weasley twins, didn't like anyone at all. But it seemed like he was personally angry with Harry! He probably shouldn't have been cheeky to him during the first lesson, sarcastically doubting the absolute universality of the bezoar. He only lost an extra ten points.
These points, of course, had little effect on anything - but the perfectionism inside Harry, nurtured by the Sweet Tooth, did not give him a chance to lose even one of them without terrible mental suffering!
So, if Professor Snape simply didn't treat the other Gryffindors very well, then he was positively oozing poison when it came to Harry. The completely unfair and idiotic attack on him with the answers to the questions in the very first lesson infuriated the boy! After all, if he hadn't leafed through the textbook beforehand - which he was absolutely not obliged to do before the first lesson - he wouldn't have answered even one of those questions! Not to mention the discussions on the topic of the bezoar, which Dobryak had told a lot about in the summer.
But what enraged Harry even more was that it was almost impossible to practice warp magic in peace at Hogwarts! No, no one prevented him from calculating probability lines, meditating and training physically. But the illusions and delusions were useless here - because, as it turned out, the same ghosts and living pictures could see through them perfectly well.
As for the paintings, Smarty was extremely interested in them. He muttered about some Eldar and their soul stones, but it was impossible to get specifics from him - it was clear that until the Tzeentch demon understood the matter thoroughly, he would remain lost to those around him. And Harry did not insist. He could train himself, so he preferred not to bother Smarty. From experience, he knew that as soon as he had something to say, he would say it. And this "something" would certainly turn out to be something interesting!
Another problem was mental magic.
According to the spirit advisors, at least Headmaster Dumbledore and Severus Snape were definitely master mentalists. Their emotions were tightly closed off from the warp, and when Harry looked into their eyes, he clearly felt the pressure on his own defenses. The presence of which, by the way, for some reason did not raise questions from these two - which in itself did not mean anything! The same Alastor Moody also waved off Mrs. Figg's words out loud with indifference, and himself...
But Harry was in no hurry to pry into the thoughts of the other teachers and students either: Smarty dissuaded him from such a hasty decision. According to him, based on what they had read, one could conclude that over the centuries of mentalistics, wizards had become adept at identifying and resisting influence on the mind - and therefore it was not worth provoking them. If the headmaster or the potions teacher suspected influence on the students, they would start looking for the self-confident brainwasher who decided to delve into the minds of their charges!
And as always, everything came down to his favorite excuse - not enough data. And no matter how much Harry was annoyed that instead of studying such an interesting direction as the magic of the mind, the Smart Guy was delving into the construction of living pictures, he understood: if the spawn of Tzeentch latched onto some topic, he would move on to another only after he had squeezed all possible information out of the previous one!
Harry liked Hermione Granger, without any false pretense. Cute curls, an upturned nose and funny protruding upper incisors. Someone would say that this is a flaw, but for some reason the boy liked this cute flaw. As if he were looking at a mouse or a bunny. He wanted to stroke the girl, hug her, shake her, skin her, cook and eat her!...
Harry choked on the sentence he'd just said to Hermione and shook his head, frowning as he thought that Sweet Tooth's irritation was starting to get out of hand.
No, he himself was a little angry about all these rules, schedules and restrictions that were imposed on the students of Hogwarts. After all, there was no way to perform the Kindly One ritual, which he was so looking forward to and which Harry had placed his hopes on to protect him from the seasonal illnesses that were so annoying to him! What's more, he hadn't even had the opportunity to perform a regular ritual yet! Firstly, the disappearance of the students' pets, who were the most logical candidates for victims, would have caused unnecessary excitement. And secondly, Harry felt that someone was constantly watching over the students. I mean, in addition to ghosts and paintings. But, unlike the latter, this - or "these" - someone had not yet been seen.
And of course, it was depressing that there were no sweets to be had in the castle - the amazing desserts served at the opening feast didn't count. A feast is a feast.
But Sweet Tooth's melancholy was beginning to go beyond the bounds of what was permitted. Because it was this spirit-adviser of Potter's that had recently begun to throw into the boy's brain pictures of the utmost frankness!
For the most part, these were pictures of very cruel and slow killing of people around. Although there were also plenty of naked bodies engaged in... certain body movements. And sometimes the first and second scenes were combined, which made Harry feel really sick!
He did not understand and did not accept the information that the spawn of Slaanesh was ramming into his brain! And considering that Sweet Tooth was silent, as if he had swallowed his tongue, Harry began to panic, how had he offended one of his four friends?
The Good Guy sighed kindly to all questions and made excuses that he didn't want to interfere in Harry's relationships with other spirits. The Bully spat and swore, calling the Sweet Tooth "a vile crawling slug with disgusting slug needs" - but he didn't spoil him with specifics either. The Smart Guy was completely immersed in studying the paintings.
As a result, Harry was left alone with unsatisfied curiosity and boredom. And he did not like this state at all!
And almost everything was boring. They didn't learn any special skills or spells. Just small tests to understand the level of training and strength.
They practiced wand movements and hand movements in charms, but with the grace Harry had acquired under the influence of Sweet Tooth before school, it was as simple as it was boring.
Transfiguration was exactly the same. Only instead of developing their hands, they boiled their brains with formulas and laws of this subject. As Harry understood, the first lesson, with matches, was also something like a "knowledge cross-section", designed to give an understanding of the level of power of each student.
After the first lesson, Severus Snape began to brainwash all the first-years on the subject of safety precautions - constantly making fun of poor Neville Longbottom, who managed to melt the cauldron that time. And Harry, on the one hand, sympathized with his chubby classmate, and on the other, was openly happy and even gloated. Because while the Potions teacher was busy with the oaf Longbottom, he ignored Harry himself!
Defense Against the Dark Arts was something of a comedy show, but at least it wasn't boring. Although, to be honest, if you could get past Professor Quirrell's stutter, you could understand what he was talking about. In addition, according to the spirits, Quirrell, just like Snape and Dumbledore, was covered by mental shields from the warp, which protected the DADA teacher from mind scanning. But it felt like it wasn't his own power, but something borrowed - most likely some artifact that he hid in his awkward turban.
There was no need to even mention digging in the ground, proudly called "herbology" - it would be hard to find a more useless activity.
The only more or less useful and interesting subjects at school were astronomy and... the history of magic.
Professor Cuthbert Binns, their history teacher, was one of the school ghosts. And, as befits a ghost, he was a little removed from real life - as well as from life in general, Harry thought wryly. And Binns himself was terribly boring! His droning manner made his lessons a test of willpower and intelligence in the face of that soporific voice. But if you were lucky enough to get through this test without falling asleep, you could find something interesting in the professor's narration.
"Sir!" Harry approached the ghost at the end of the lesson, when Binns began to read out the homework in the same monotone. "You mentioned the First Goblin Rebellion of Gorefiend, which happened during the time of Merlin. Does that mean it wasn't the last?"
Cuthbert Binns looked at the boy with a very surprised look over his ghostly glasses. But he still deigned to answer the question:
- That's right, mister, uh...
"Potter, sir. Harry Potter!" Harry's usual charming smile crept onto his face. He wasn't sure his charm would work on the ghost, but he wasn't going to change his habit.
- Oh, yes! - Binns even perked up a bit. - October 31, 1981, Godric's Hollow, the fall of the Dark Lord Voldemort. An interesting and still rather ambiguous historical fact that...
"So what about the goblin rebellions, sir?" the boy allowed himself to remind himself of the topic of conversation, fearing that the ghost would again slip into reasoning about another "historical fact" - in this case, his, Harry's, own "feat".
- Hm, - the ghost measured the boy with a strange look again. - Let's say that these events began to be called "uprisings" relatively recently, around the 17th-18th centuries. Right after the final unification of wizards into single quasi-state communities, in our case under the leadership of the Ministry of Magic. "Politically correct formulations", hmmm, - the ghost snorted with unexpectedly emerging contempt. Harry was even taken aback by such a display of emotion from the previously boring and colorless Binns. - In fact, these were real wars, during which European civilization, and even all of humanity, risked ceasing to exist! But now it is fashionable to present these conflicts as some kind of "rebellions of non-humans" that were suppressed by almost a handful of ordinary people, - the ghost pursed his lips and snorted contemptuously again. "However, if you are interested in details," he suddenly remembered, realizing that he had fallen out of his usual role as a bore, "then I can recommend several books from the library that have not yet been censored. They tell about the war with the Bloodthirster horde and the subsequent attempts of the goblins to regain their power in the British Isles, in detail and almost without cuts.
And so Harry sat in the library and read with interest the book recommended by Binns. Even Ruffnut found something interesting in its contents - although Harry least suspected him of being fascinated by the printed word.
"He is Blargolag, the Great Enemy!
He lapped up blood like a ghoul.
He plunged the whole world into darkness.
And into the flames from beyond the Edge!
Having broken the metal of his shackles,
With the onslaught of a thousand blades,
Boar's bronze tusks
Will overthrow the Universe!…"
"Well, that doesn't really sound like a description of a normal rebellion," Harry thought, trying to distract himself from the strange thoughts inspired by Sweet Tooth, who was offended by the whole world.
The book was quite old - from the 19th century, or even earlier. And so it was full of Latin insertions and excerpts from ancient ballads and poems.
"And this Blargolag – or Bloodthirster, as his name roughly translates – is not your average goblin chieftain ," Ruffnut said in a surprisingly calm voice. "And considering that Bloodthirsters are the name given to the greater daemons of my master Khorne, then..."
"We have an interesting picture of the past and future emerging!" - the Smart Guy's voice suddenly sounded in Harry's head.
"Smart boy!" the boy rejoiced. "You're back!"
"Come to think of it, I never left," he chuckled in response. "And I didn't even miss anything interesting. Apart from the protracted hysteria of our Slaaneshi friend."
"Tell me that it's not justified!" Sweet Tooth's voice suddenly rose. "This bastard school!... This sadistic hat!!"
"Calm down ," the Smarty winced, under the angry growling of the Bully and the silence of the Kindly One. "Harry was merely given minor and - I note - temporary restrictions on certain relationships with other individuals..."
"Small? Small?!" Sweet Tooth screamed again, so loudly that Harry's head even started to hurt. "We were simply castrated! Literally! What do you mean, no sex until we're sixteen?! That's outrageous!"
"As if that's going to stop you from having fun in other ways for the next five years ," Smart Guy calmly parried Sweet Tooth's hysteria. "That's even good, to be honest. We'll spend less time trying to get into people's pants and more time learning."
"But this is monstrous!" Sweet Tooth tried again.
"You'll make up for it after you turn sixteen!" Smart Guy snapped, and that was the end of the conversation.
What's strange is that despite the fact that Harry only performed rituals in honor of Nurgle and Khorne, thus slightly strengthening Ruffnut and Kind, for some reason the unofficial leader of their four remained Smarty. With just words, he could force any of Harry's spirit advisors to retreat, which earned them all a bit of respect.
And they were discussing the restrictions that had been automatically placed on Harry after he had been sorted, and which they had only discovered the day after the opening feast. One of which was a ban on any sexual contact until he reached the age of sixteen.
How it worked and what the limits of these "contacts" were, Slastena still threatened to find out. But it was already clear that this restriction was in effect beyond the school's borders as well.
However, Harry did not particularly go into the details of this restriction. He was still, due to his age, not very clear about the principle of "sexual interaction". Although, for example, he sometimes glanced at beautiful girls, finding them very cute. As in the case of Hermione Granger.
"Um... Can you hear me?" asked the girl sitting next to him, and Harry finally looked up from his book and his thoughts, turning his attention to Hermione.
"I heard and understood you perfectly," Potter replied calmly, looking at her over his glasses. "Flying lesson. Today. You read about Quidditch and general information on this topic, but you haven't found any specifics yet. And I can tell you right away that you won't," he sighed, closing the history tome, leaving a bookmark on the poem about Bloodthirster Blargolag (whatever the tautology of such a combination might be) and turning to Granger.
"Well..." Hermione swallowed, lost, temporarily transforming from a self-confident "nerd" who knew everything in the world into an ordinary eleven-year-old girl. "I'm really worried. Honestly, it's terrible that you can't learn how to fly a broom from books!"
"It all seems logical to me," Harry shrugged. "It's a purely practical skill, you can't get by with theory. And in the wizarding world, a broom is one of the most common and easy-to-learn ways to move around. And you remember," he chuckled, "that this subject is not included in the exam lists. And if you submit a petition, you can refuse it altogether!"
"What do you mean, refuse?!" Granger exclaimed with some kind of holy anger, but then she drooped in embarrassment and blushed - under Madam Pince's displeased gaze. "How can you refuse one of your school subjects? It's... it's!..."
"Quite normal," Potter chuckled. "You better tell me: what did you and Weasley disagree about?"
Granger pursed her lips and said,
- He's a dirty, slovenly, ill-mannered boy! And he says nasty things to girls!
"Well, I wouldn't say that these 'nasty things' were so undeserved..." Harry said thoughtfully.
In fact, Ron managed to surprise him that time - he was so effective and rude to the senior girls that they left him alone, you had to be able to do that! Although it was clear that most likely it happened under the influence of his older twin brothers, but the fact itself... The smart guy even depicted something like applause in Harry's head. And he said that for a little boy, the younger Weasley swears very amusingly. Apparently, life in a large family produces some peculiar fruits.
So, one of the older girls, a sixth-year, tried to scold Ron for "hanging out with slugs." Although Harry knew perfectly well that the whole "driving" consisted of Weasley arguing with Malfoy about chess. That time, in the train compartment, their confrontation ended in a draw — and both boys were fired up with the idea of taking intellectual revenge!
But the way Ron responded to his rather rude attack amazed and amused Harry.
"It's not for you to bring this up, Gutterby," he had snapped back sullenly. "They say you played such a lousy game of Quidditch in the final last year, it was as if you were deliberately playing along with Slytherin. Is their captain such a sweetheart that you were deliberately missing the hoops?" There were a few nervous chuckles around. "Do you miss the toilet in the loo too, or is it only when Flint is around?"
In short, Ron was left alone. Although this Gutterby and several of her friends have developed a huge grudge against the younger Weasley!
And now it turns out that they turned the younger girls against Ron too.
"Before you start telling me what a jerk Ron is, is that your opinion or Gutterby's?" Harry asked. He liked his insight, supported by his ability to sense the emotions of others, analyze probabilities, and listen to the spirits. Showing off his superiority to people around him, despite the fact that he was only a first year, was quite pleasant - he hadn't noticed that in himself before. "His family doesn't have a very large income, that's why he dresses so modestly. And the fact that he tries to eat as quickly as possible at the table... Hmm, well, that's more a consequence of the principle "in a large family, don't click your beak," he grinned. "Have you noticed? Ron tries to shove as much food into his mouth as quickly as possible, as if he's afraid that it will be taken away from him. Of course, he does it... not very neatly.
"But he really does communicate with that nasty Malfoy!" Hermione said indignantly, but somehow without any fire.
"So what?" Harry shrugged. "I talk to him from time to time too - so what?"
He suspected that he, as the Boy Who Lived, could be forgiven for such trifles. But the Weasleys, whose family had been in Gryffindor for generations and had been at odds with the Slytherins all that time, got it in the neck for such antics! Harry himself heard Ron arguing with his brother Percy, who was preaching about "unworthy acquaintances" and urging him "not to ruin his and his father's reputation."
It was unclear how Ronald could ruin his father's reputation with such connections. But it was clear that McGonagall and Snape were quite favorable to his and Malfoy's chess initiative. Potter would not be surprised if a school chess club was soon created - and the first participants would be Weasley and Malfoy.
The argument with Granger ended before it had even really begun - the break was ending, it was time to go change into warmer clothes and head out into the yard for flying lessons.
Madam Hooch, a pretty woman "a little over forty" with short gray hair and strange yellow eyes, gave a short briefing, explained all the necessary points and made sure that all the students coped with the summoning of brooms. She even managed to scold Malfoy for the wrong grip - to which he tried to protest, but was forced to comply with the teacher's demands. Grumbling under his breath about the fact that he had been flying for more than a year.
And everything was fine until Longbottom made a false start and fell from a height of three meters, breaking his wrist.
"Boring!" Malfoy said sadly, walking up to Potter and a frowning Granger as Hooch led Neville to the Hospital Wing. His usual companions, Crabbe and Goyle, were hovering behind him as usual. "Potter, how about flying while the teacher's away?"
"Will we make it before she gets back?" Harry asked with interest. Both he and the Sweet Tooth inside really wanted to try flying - it must have been an unusual sensation!
"It's a ten-minute walk to the hospital wing," the blond snorted. "By the time she explains everything, leaves this blockhead and comes back, another fifteen minutes will have passed. In that time, I'll have time to show you a couple of tricks," he grinned smugly.
"It turns out you can't even hold a broom properly," snorted Ron, who was standing nearby.
"What do you know about Quidditch, Weasley?" snorted the Slytherin. "The grip she showed me was casual. That is, it's designed so that you don't have to lift your palms off the shaft. And my grip is sporty, designed so that at least one hand remains free..."
- Wait a minute! - Hermione suddenly intervened. - You're not serious, are you? Harry! You can't just go and disobey a direct order from a teacher! You'll get expelled!
"Listen, you…" Malfoy began dismissively, narrowing his eyes unkindly.
"I'm not 'you', I'm Hermione Granger!" Hermione stubbornly raised her head, and Harry realized that if he didn't intervene now, everything would end in a squabble, and they definitely wouldn't have time to fly.
"Granger, pager, Power Ranger," Harry mimicked the girl. "Hermione, don't be a bore! We're not forcing you to break the rules either. And don't worry about us - Malfoy is right, we'll make it down before Trick gets back," he waved his hand carelessly.
And, paying no more attention to the indignant girl, he sat down on the broom.
As soon as Harry pushed off the ground and the broom carried him upward, he was so overwhelmed with delight that for a few moments he couldn't even breathe! And the first somersaults were absolutely breathtaking!
No one except Harry and Draco dared to follow them into the sky, so they flew together. Ron just muttered something sullenly and refused.
Malfoy regretted that there wasn't even a ball lying around to throw back and forth with. But, in principle, it was fun anyway - it was enough for Harry for the first time!
They came down at the last moment, trying hard to pretend that nothing had happened. The other students, especially the boys, looked at each other cheerfully, but said nothing to the teacher.
However, the rest of the lesson also went well. Everyone got to fly, but not everyone liked it - the same Granger rose barely one and a half meters into the air, after which she turned green and quickly returned to the ground.
Ron was quite confident on the broom, but still not as easily as Malfoy or Harry Potter. The latter, by the way, surprised everyone with his grace, giving rise to constant questions: "Are you sure this is your first time flying?"
Madam Hooch looked at Potter with great interest, dropping a phrase about how his father's blood was visible. It turned out that he was also an excellent flyer and played Quidditch for the Gryffindor team in his time.
Already approaching the pointed arch that led into the castle, Harry heard Malfoy's shout from behind:
- Hey, Potter! Catch!
He turned around sharply and only caught a glimpse of some object flying towards him out of the corner of his eye. Well, towards him - it was flying much higher, risking crashing into the upper parapet of the arch.
A sharp jump onto the wall of the niche, push off and send the body upward, in a graceful somersault catching the flying glass ball thrown by Malfoy. And freeze, catching the amazed and admiring glances of those around you.
"Merlin's beard…" one of the guys drawled.
"Wow, Potter!" Malfoy exclaimed as he ran up. "How did you do that?!"
"Innate skills," Harry smiled modestly. And then he began to examine the object in his hands. "And what is this?"
"It's like that glass thing Longbottom always carries around," Draco snorted. "I just picked it up in the grass. I was thinking about hiding it somewhere for that oaf to look for, but I'm too lazy. So I decided to give it to you. He's in your house… having fun," he laughed at his own joke. "And he didn't regret it, as you can see! It's not every day you see such tricks…"
"Mr. Potter!" McGonagall's voice came from the courtyard. "Never... In all my work at this school, never!..." she tried to say breathlessly, hurrying towards them. Finally, having caught her breath a little, she said: "Mr. Potter, how did you do it?"
"Agility and training, Professor," Harry said crisply. "I've been running and climbing a lot since I was a kid."
"That's obvious," she returned to her stern manner of speech. "Come with me, Potter."
- Um... professor? - Harry was wary. Had his special abilities been revealed? Or had she seen him flying with Malfoy? But then they would have called the latter too. - Did I do something wrong?
"What? Oh, no," McGonagall smiled encouragingly. "I just thought you might want to meet someone."
And five minutes later she placed Harry in front of an older student in a Gryffindor robe and introduced him. After which she said:
- Wood! I think I found you a catcher.
"And why do we need this hassle?" snorted Smarty when they were already back in Gryffindor Tower. "It's not like we wanted to stand out from the crowd..."
"You wanted to blend in, but Harry and I were very much in favor of it ," snorted the pleased Sweet Tooth. "Besides, it's the only way to fly legally! Uh-h... It was wonderful!" he said dreamily.
"Seeker ," Ruffnut snorted contemptuously. "If you're going to play this Quidditch, you're going to play Beater! It's perfectly legal to hit people with iron balls flying at breakneck speed - that's where the fun is."
"However ," continued Smarty calmly. "Now we will have access to the Quidditch pitch and will be able to train physically, thereby continuing our progress."
"Every road leads somewhere, right?" Harry thought cheerfully. He was in a great mood.
"Exactly!" confirmed Smarty. "Besides, with your abilities, winning any match is practically in your pocket."
Quidditch was a real find for Harry Potter! Training allowed him to dispel boredom and continue to develop physically. And in warp magic too, surprisingly! Attempts to discern the course of the game in the warp allowed him to increase the interval of clearly visible future to two minutes ahead, and scanning the emotions of those around him during moments of concentration stretched across the entire Quidditch field, making it possible to read the emanations of not only the players, but also the spectators.
There weren't many spectators at the training sessions, though. His new friends from Gryffindor were Granger and the younger Weasley, and sometimes the latter's older twin brothers. Malfoy didn't come to the stadium - and Harry's teammates wouldn't let him anyway. It would be a shame to give out the game strategy to a potential opponent!
So Harry was looking forward to his first match with great impatience! To shine in front of the whole school, to fly to his heart's content, and even to practice his abilities - it's hard to imagine a better illustration of combining the useful with the pleasant.
Oliver Wood, the captain of the Gryffindor team, was absolutely delighted with the new Seeker! He was agile, graceful and surprisingly fast! Not least because a certain benefactor sent the boy a Nimbus 2000, the latest sports broom!
"Headmaster Dumbledore and McGonagall ," Smarty snapped categorically when Harry was surprised by such an anonymous gift. "McCat is a graduate and the Dean of Gryffindor, Dumbledore is also from this house and was also the Dean at one time. And these two emanate unambiguous intentions to pull their beloved house out of the reputational hole in which it has found itself."
"But you said that the director's thoughts and feelings are completely closed and impossible to read," the boy was surprised.
"If directly, then yes, it is completely unrealistic ," the demon agreed. "But if you had listened to me more carefully, you would have understood that it is possible to read a person's intentions indirectly - along the lines of fate, by probabilities and simply based on banal logic. Even a person deprived of your abilities can notice that the headmaster is keeping an eye on Gryffindor in general and you in particular."
"But that's a very expensive gift!" the boy frowned. "Such gifts are not given simply out of a desire to help your favorite faculty. Especially by people like Dumbledore."
"And the boy is growing up ," Dobryak laughed good-naturedly in his deep, guttural voice. "He's already drawing the right conclusions himself."
"Dumbledore is a multifaceted personality ," Smarty drawled thoughtfully. "If it weren't for his rigid mental shield, I would have assumed that he was a client of one of my relatives - his plans are too multilayered and his deeds are ambiguous. Even those that we read about in official sources."
Harry nodded, understanding what the Tzeentchite spirit was talking about. They had read a lot during their time preparing for Hogwarts and at the school itself - after all, it was a wizarding school! There couldn't be any uninteresting books here!
So Harry also studied several books on the history of twentieth-century magic, especially those dealing with the current Headmaster. And many of Dumbledore's quotes about the "Common Good" were very reminiscent of the rhetoric of his main opponent during World War II, Gellert Grindelwald.
Dumbledore was a very complex character, oh, very complex! And it was hard to believe that he was just having fun in his old age, trying to favor his own red-bannered faculty. But they decided to leave him as one of the options anyway - you never know?
And what could they do? Smarty and Harry scanned the broom from the shaft to the tips of the twigs, but found nothing except the charms cast during production. So, the effect of the broom had to be purely psychological. If Harry had been the same downtrodden weakling he had been before meeting his four companions, he would have definitely fallen for this fairy tale and would have definitely followed the lead of the "kind and generous" giver. Now... time will tell. In any case, he and Sweety were simply unable to refuse such a gift!
Wood didn't ask where Harry got the new broom from - after all, he could have ordered it himself. And permission to have a personal broom in his first year didn't raise any questions - Oliver himself saw how McGonagall looked at Potter with anticipation, holding the Nimbus in her hands. It was clear as day that the assistant headmistress, a rabid Quidditch fan, could not help but use her powers to "go meet such a bright talent."
But here is Potter's own strange quirk in the design of this broom...
"Harry, why did you paint the whole broom red?" Wood couldn't resist asking him one day. "I'm honestly surprised it didn't start acting up after that - it could have damaged the delicate charms on the twigs! But it seems to fly even better now..."
"It's simple," Harry smiled then. And gave a very mysterious explanation: "Red is faster!"
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