Over three days, the troll gradually lost its importance.
First, it stopped growing.
Then people began to agree, at least, on which floor it had been found.
Eventually, someone remembered there was a match coming up.
From then on, Harry Potter appeared in conversations even more often, but at least he no longer had to stand beside a troll.
Now he was going to fall off his broom.
Or win the match single-handedly.
It depended on which table the speaker sat at.
At breakfast, a badge hovered in front of my nose.
Green.
Flashing.
Very pleased with itself.
**SLYTHERIN WILL CRUSH GRYFFINDOR**
I watched it for a moment.
It turned slowly, as though giving me a chance to read the message again.
I pushed it aside with a finger.
It came back.
Malfoy noticed immediately.
“Don’t look at it like that. It hasn’t done anything to you yet.”
“It’s blocking my breakfast.”
“It’s called supporting your house.”
He adjusted an identical badge pinned to his robe.
Of course he had one.
“Could it support the house a little further to the left?”
Blaise snorted over his cup.
Draco caught the flying badge and put it beside his plate.
It immediately tried to rise again.
He held it down.
“This one was for you.”
“Does it do that all the time?”
“That’s the idea.”
I looked at the green flashes escaping between his fingers.
“That explains a lot.”
My eye barely hurt now.
When reading normally or walking around the castle, I sometimes forgot about it altogether.
Flashing magic directly in front of my face, however, could still attract its attention faster than mine.
I didn’t need one of my own to wear all day.
A few seats further along, older students were discussing the team.
Listening to them, you might think they were preparing for a siege.
Flint sat in the middle, eating breakfast and receiving suggestions with the expression of someone who intended to ignore most of them.
The Gryffindor side looked similar.
Only red.
Harry sat beside Ron, a little more rigidly than usual.
Ron was talking, sweeping his hand in an arc over the table.
Hermione moved her cup before he could hit it.
I reached for my tea.
“Are you going tomorrow?” Blaise asked.
“To the match? Yes.”
“Draco says we need to get seats early.”
Malfoy raised his head.
“Unless you want to look at the backs of older students.”
That sounded sensible enough.
I looked at him.
“I want to see the pitch.”
“Then we’re going early.”
His tone suggested the matter was settled.
I didn’t argue.
Though I hoped he’d be bored of the badge before we headed for the stands.
I had some difficulty taking all the excitement seriously.
I’d known people who could argue about football for hours.
In my previous life, you only had to go online.
Here, similar discussions involved objects that could fly, glow and insult the opposition all by themselves.
Perhaps that was what Muggle supporters were missing.
At the next table, someone was explaining the Seeker’s role to an older Hufflepuff.
The Hufflepuff listened for a while.
Then reminded the speaker that he played the position himself.
Blaise heard it too.
We exchanged looks.
“At least he knows the rules now,” he murmured.
The badge beneath Malfoy’s hand flashed again.
This time, I noticed a thin wisp at its edge pulse just before the lettering changed.
I looked more closely.
Light jumped between the letters.
Then the badge jerked upwards.
Two different effects.
Two spells?
For a few seconds, I forgot that I’d just been trying to get rid of it.
Malfoy noticed my interest.
“Want it after all?”
“No.”
“You’re looking.”
“I’m wondering how to switch it off.”
He moved the badge out of reach.
At the staff table, McGonagall was talking to Hooch.
The latter demonstrated something with a short movement of her hand.
The professor listened closely.
Further along, Snape sat over his breakfast.
Beyond him, I saw the turban.
One brief glance was enough.
Something near Quirrell’s shoulder seemed displaced.
A small irregularity, visible only for a moment before blending into the rest of the scene.
My eye twinged.
I returned to my cup.
I didn’t need a reminder of what had happened the last time I’d tried to examine it more closely.
Malfoy leaned back.
“That face again.”
“What face?”
“As though something’s offended you, but you haven’t decided what yet.”
I looked at his badge.
“There’s plenty of competition.”
He gave a crooked smile.
Then someone called to him from further down the table, and the conversation turned to the team.
I let it go without me.
The corridor was worse.
Green and red ribbons curled beneath the ceiling.
Someone had released small balls of light that flew over our heads and burst against the walls.
One exploded in front of a sleeping witch’s portrait.
She woke and began shouting.
Peeves appeared almost immediately.
Apparently, he recognised a promising start to the day.
Beside the stairs, we passed a banner shouting slogans by itself.
For a while, it called for a Gryffindor victory.
Then it began doing so in Latin.
The student holding its pole looked as surprised as everyone else.
I slowed.
A pattern of tiny wisps flickered across the fabric, appearing and disappearing with each word.
I wanted to stay and watch.
On the other hand, McGonagall was passing.
It seemed wise not to be too close to the banner’s owner when the questions began.
I walked on.
Halfway to Charms, a group of older students carrying brooms passed us.
One handle came close to my shoulder.
I moved aside instinctively, then looked after it.
A thin, bright line ran along the wood.
Near the twigs, it split into smaller strands.
They moved with the broom, but with a slight delay.
Nothing like the spell I used to levitate the rod.
I stopped.
The student walked a few paces further.
Changed his grip.
The strands at the broom’s end shifted.
“Oliver.”
I looked at Blaise.
He stood at the classroom door.
“Coming?”
“Now.”
I looked back at the broom once more.
I saw nothing else.
For the rest of the way, I tried to recall whether the school brooms looked the same.
When flying on them, I was usually occupied with looking ahead.
Perhaps I’d missed something.
Flitwick waited beside his desk.
I sat and laid out my things.
The class was still talking about the match.
I heard Potter’s name, Flint’s name and at least three different opinions about the Nimbus.
Malfoy put his bag beside the desk.
“Apparently, that banner from this morning knows Latin,” I replied.
Draco looked at me.
“What’s that got to do with anything?”
“I heard both in a corridor.”
Blaise sat on the other side.
“My brother once fell off a broom while it was on the ground.”
Malfoy raised his eyebrows.
“How?”
“I don’t know. The family still talks about it.”
I smiled and opened my textbook.
Flitwick climbed onto the stack of books behind his desk and clapped his hands.
“Precision today!”
Light objects appeared on every desk: feathers, pieces of parchment and small wooden discs.
“Drawing an object towards you is one thing. Stopping it where you want is another.”
The professor moved his wand.
A disc slid from the end of his desk towards him and stopped beside his hand.
“Pay attention to the entire movement. Not just the beginning.”
He looked towards the window.
“And a reminder: inkwells stay where they are.”
Someone moved theirs further from the centre of the desk.
I took my wand.
The feather slid across the desktop and stopped in front of my hand.
On the next attempt, I tried a little faster.
This time, it brushed my fingers before it stopped.
I adjusted the movement.
Flitwick was right.
Getting something near my hand wasn’t particularly difficult.
The trouble began when I didn’t want to have to catch it afterwards.
Enough was happening around me to make choosing one thing to watch difficult.
A feather on the next desk bounced instead of sliding.
A wooden disc behind Blaise rolled onto the floor.
By the window, a sheet of parchment folded in half and moved like a small, ungainly tent.
I saw brief wisps between wands and objects.
Some disappeared immediately.
Others lingered while the spell was still working.
I tried to catch the difference.
But the scene was much more chaotic than the cauldron.
Whenever I focused on one object, three more moved beside it.
My left eye began to ache.
I didn’t give up immediately.
I chose the disc on my own desk and watched what happened just before it stopped.
The wisp shortened.
Or perhaps it faded from the object’s end.
I repeated the spell.
The second time, I saw it more clearly.
I smiled.
Then a book flew off Ron’s desk and struck Harry’s shoulder.
“That wasn’t mine,” Harry said.
Ron stared at the book in bewilderment.
“I know.”
“Then why did you call it over?”
“I didn’t mean to!”
Hermione put down her wand.
“Your movement is too wide. I showed you.”
“I was aiming at the parchment.”
“The book was on the parchment.”
Ron looked at the desk.
For a moment, he said nothing.
Then moved everything further away.
I couldn’t suppress a smile.
Malfoy noticed.
“They’re doing brilliantly.”
“Especially with the book.”
“He ought to throw it at Potter during the match. He might catch something.”
I didn’t answer.
Flitwick was approaching our row, and I preferred to show him a properly summoned disc rather than the start of another conversation about Gryffindor.
The professor watched two attempts.
Then asked me to stop the object on a marked line.
I tried.
The disc went a little too far.
On the second attempt, it stopped exactly on it.
“Very good, Mr Peverell. Remember the end of that movement.”
“Yes, Professor.”
He studied me more closely.
“Not enough sleep?”
“A little less than I should.”
“Precision is very fond of sleep. It’s worth indulging it occasionally.”
I smiled and nodded.
It was hard to explain that curiosity about precision was what had recently kept me at my desk longer than intended.
Once he’d gone, I added a short note in the margin.
**End of spell — observe separately.**
Beside it, I wrote:
**Brooms.**
I underlined that one.
After the lesson, I didn’t put away my wand immediately.
I moved the disc once more, very slowly this time.
At a low speed, it was easier to watch a single wisp.
I didn’t reach for the pressure.
First, I wanted to remember what a properly working spell looked like.
Blaise waited with his bag over his shoulder.
“Planning to stay for the next lesson?”
I put down the disc.
“Finished.”
“Good. I think they’re third years.”
Older students were indeed gathering at the door.
I packed my things.
In the corridor, Hermione caught up with me.
“Peverell.”
I turned.
“Granger.”
She looked at my face, then the notebook still in my hand.
“Do you write down observations after every attempt too?”
I closed it automatically.
“Not every one. I wouldn’t have time to practise.”
“Slowing the movement earlier helps with stopping the disc.”
“I know. That’s what I was testing.”
She nodded.
For a moment, it looked like an ordinary conversation about lessons.
Then she glanced at my left eye.
“It looks better.”
“Glad I’ve passed inspection.”
“I didn’t say you’d passed.”
I looked at her.
The corner of her mouth twitched.
This time, I almost laughed.
Harry and Ron waited a few paces away.
Ron was explaining something, demonstrating a sharp dive with his hand.
Hermione glanced towards them.
“Are you going to the match tomorrow?”
“Yes.”
“Me too.”
She sounded a little as though she was still coming to terms with the idea herself.
“Bringing a book?” I asked.
She gave me an offended look.
“No.”
I wasn’t sure the answer had come quickly enough.
Harry called to her before I could comment.
She went to them, and I joined Blaise.
That afternoon, the castle filled with even more colour.
On the stairs, we passed two Ravenclaws betting Chocolate Frogs on the result.
By a window, an older Slytherin tried to detach a red ribbon that had wrapped around his sleeve as he passed.
He tugged.
The ribbon snapped and showered him with sparks.
Someone behind me began clapping.
The Slytherin turned so quickly that it seemed sensible not to linger.
I walked on.
The smell of cold air drifted through open doors leading to the grounds.
Nearby, I heard the returning team’s voices.
First, I saw bats.
Then brooms.
I stopped beside the wall.
Flint walked in the middle of the group, his broom over his shoulder.
Its twigs were still damp, its handle gleaming with fresh polish.
Several overlapping strands ran along the wood.
On the next broom, they looked different.
Thinner. Find the original chapter at g.com.
Changing direction more sharply towards the end.
I studied them.
Flint noticed me first.
“Peverell.”
I raised my eyes.
“Come to see the team before our victory?”
“I thought the victory was tomorrow.”
“You can start getting used to it.”
Someone beside him laughed.
Flint adjusted the broom on his shoulder.
The strands near the twigs moved with it.
I looked at them again.
The captain noticed where I was looking.
“Interested in the equipment?”
“A bit.”
“What do you fly?”
“A school broom.”
He grimaced with more understanding than I’d expected.
“That explains a lot.”
One of the Beaters stopped beside him.
Flint took his broom off his shoulder to adjust his bag strap.
It was much closer now.
A thicker wisp along the handle forked where the twigs began.
When he turned the broom, the pattern shifted smoothly while keeping its shape.
I wanted to ask which spells kept it working.
But I doubted Flint had come back from practice to give me a lesson.
“Big difference?” I asked, indicating the broom.
“Compared with a school one? Try stopping exactly where you want instead of three feet further on.”
“I have.”
“And?”
“That’s why I’m asking.”
He smiled briefly.
“At least you know something’s wrong.”
Someone at the end of the group called his name.
Flint swung the broom over his shoulder.
“Come and watch tomorrow. You’ll see how it’s supposed to look.”
They walked on, discussing the wind and the pitch.
I stayed by the wall.
I didn’t know whether I’d been looking at a braking charm, a stabilising one or something else entirely.
But the differences between the brooms were clear.
I wanted to examine them when nobody was waving a handle beside my head.
At dinner, Malfoy returned to the question of seats.
Blaise wanted to sit high enough to see the whole pitch.
Crabbe asked whether we ought to bring food.
Goyle thought we should.
That was the point we agreed on fastest.
“Who are you backing?” Draco asked me.
“I haven’t seen either team play yet.”
“That doesn’t stop you choosing Slytherin.”
“Apparently.”
He pushed a green badge towards me.
This time, it lay still.
I looked at him.
“Switched it off?”
“You can tone it down.”
“So you do know how.”
He took it back before I could add anything.
Blaise smiled at his plate.
I knew what was supposed to happen during tomorrow’s match.
The knowledge returned with every mention of Potter and his Nimbus.
Today, there was nothing to examine but ordinary brooms.
Those were what I intended to work on.
I reached the seventh floor after dinner.
I passed the tapestry thinking of somewhere quiet to examine enchanted objects.
And a broom.
When I entered, one leaned against the wall.
I stopped in the doorway.
For a moment, I wanted to say something to the Room, but didn’t know what.
Thank you?
Where did you get it?
Can you do that with everything?
In the end, I went closer.
The broom was plain.
A dark handle, neatly trimmed twigs, no lettering I recognised.
It didn’t look like a Nimbus.
Nor did it look like a school broom that had survived generations of students and resented them for it.
I touched the wood.
Smooth.
It smelled of resin.
I put my bag beside the desk.
First, I examined the broom normally.
The join between handle and twigs.
The binding.
The surface of the wood.
Then I stepped back.
“Up.”
It sprang into my hand.
I smiled.
I doubted I’d ever tire of that.
I put it on the floor and repeated the command, watching the magic this time.
Something brightened along the handle just before it moved.
The strands near the twigs tightened, then the whole broom leapt upwards.
I caught it awkwardly, too absorbed in watching to position my hand.
The wood struck my fingers.
“Yes. Need to watch that too.”
I put it down again.
On the third attempt, I knew where to look.
Not at the whole broom.
At the spot beside the binding.
The pattern changed before the object moved, only settling once I held it.
It wasn’t quite like levitation.
There, I saw the trace of a spell I was casting myself.
Here, the magic was already in the broom.
The command merely activated something.
I crouched beside the wood.
My left eye stung slightly.
I let it grow used to the image instead of immediately trying to look deeper.
Several strands ran along the handle.
Near the twigs, they divided into smaller ones, harder to follow.
Every movement of the broom changed what I saw a little.
I cleared space on the desk and laid it horizontally.
That was easier.
For a moment, I wanted to try the pressure.
Find out whether the broom would tremble like the rod.
But I levitated the rod with my own spell.
If something fell apart, I knew how to start again.
I couldn’t enchant a broom.
If I broke the one I’d just been given, I’d be left with a very interesting stick.
I preferred to examine a working example first.
I took out my notebook.
Drew the handle, binding and twigs.
Beside them, I marked the places where changes were easiest to see.
Then I lifted the broom a few centimetres above the desktop in my hands and turned it slowly.
The strands shifted.
I returned it to the previous position.
Another change.
My smile widened.
It wasn’t merely a glowing outline.
Something here was responding.
When I looked at the clock, I understood why Malfoy considered my wanderings a waste of time.
From his perspective, I disappeared for an entire evening and came back with nothing.
From mine, I was sitting over a broom, trying to see how flying worked.
I ran a finger over the drawing.
Put a question mark beside one strand.
I didn’t know what it did.
Didn’t know whether it looked the same in flight.
Tomorrow, fourteen brooms would be flying over the pitch.
Different models, different speeds, sharp turns and braking.
I closed the notebook.
Until now, I’d wanted a good seat mainly to see what happened to Harry.
Now I had another reason.
Before leaving, I leaned the broom against the wall.
I looked at it one last time.
Up close, it seemed quite ordinary.
I thought that was what I liked best.