The next morning arrived far sooner than either Harry or Adam would have liked.
After finishing breakfast, the two boys left the Great Hall and made their way across the Hogwarts grounds. The weather had changed noticeably over the past week. The warmth of September was fading, replaced by the cool bite of autumn. A faint mist drifted lazily across the grass, and every now and then a chilly breeze swept across the grounds, causing students to pull their robes tighter around themselves.
Unfortunately, unlike most students, Harry and Adam weren't heading toward a relaxing weekend.
They were heading toward detention.
Neither spoke for a while.
Harry had spent most of breakfast complaining about Oliver Wood's schedule while Adam had spent most of breakfast thinking about everything he could have been doing instead. The more he thought about it, the more annoyed he became.
His weekend was gone.
He had books he wanted to read.
He wanted to spend time practicing in the Room of Requirement.
He wanted to experiment with several spells.
Most importantly, he had wanted to spend at least one day doing absolutely nothing.
Instead, he was marching toward the Quidditch pitch at ten in the morning. All because of a flying lesson that had happened over two weeks ago.
"It still feels unfair," Harry muttered suddenly.
Adam glanced at him and asked, "What does?"
"The detention."
Adam immediately nodded, "Agreed."
Harry looked relieved, thinking 'Finally, someone understood.'
Harry complained, "We flew for what? A few minutes?"
"Less than that." There was no pause when Adam gave this reply.
"And now we're losing an entire weekend." Harry appeared as if he would cry.
Adam sighed, "I know."
For a moment both boys walked in silence.
Then Harry frowned, "Do you think Oliver is already there?"
Adam thought about the man's enthusiasm yesterday, "Definitely."
Harry looked depressed.
A few minutes later they reached the Quidditch pitch.
The moment the tall wooden stands came into view, both boys immediately spotted a familiar figure standing near the equipment shed.
Oliver Wood.
The Gryffindor captain was standing with his hands behind his back, looking toward the pitch with the focused expression of a general inspecting a battlefield before a campaign.
As if sensing their arrival, Oliver turned.
The moment he spotted them, his entire face brightened.
"Excellent!" he called out loudly.
Harry immediately regretted coming.
"You made good time." Oliver immediately approached them enthusiastically.
Neither boy knew how to respond.
Oliver seemed far too happy for someone supervising detention.
As they approached, Adam noticed several items arranged neatly beside the equipment shed.
A large wooden table had been placed outside.
Stacks of parchment rested on top of it.
Several small toolboxes sat nearby.
And lined up in a perfectly straight row against the wall of the shed were fifteen brooms.
Harry noticed them too.
Unlike the battered school brooms used during flying lessons, these were clearly maintained with far greater care.
Some looked older.
Some looked newer.
But every single one appeared clean and polished.
Adam frowned. They already looked fine.
Oliver followed his gaze and smiled proudly, "Beautiful, aren't they?"
Adam wasn't sure anyone had ever called a broom beautiful before. Harry looked equally confused.
Oliver stepped toward the row and gently picked up one of the brooms, "The Gryffindor team's reserve and practice brooms," he explained. "They're used throughout the year by team members during training and drills."
He glanced down at the broom in his hands, "Most students don't realize how much maintenance goes into keeping them in proper condition."
The way he said it made it sound like some sacred responsibility.
Adam had a feeling he wasn't entirely joking.
Oliver carefully ran a hand along the handle before placing the broom back in its position, "Your first task will be inspecting all fifteen."
Harry blinked, "Inspecting?"
Oliver nodded, "Every broom."
Harry looked down the row. Then back at Oliver. Then back at the row again, "fifteen?"
"Yes."
"All of them?"
Oliver looked genuinely puzzled, "Of course all of them."
Adam rubbed his forehead. Something told him this conversation wasn't going to improve.
Oliver walked over to the table and picked up a stack of parchment before handing several sheets to each of them.
Adam looked down.
His eye twitched.
There were forms.
Actual forms.
Each broom had its own page. Each page contained multiple categories.
Condition of bindings.
Condition of grip.
Alignment.
Balance.
Enchantment stability.
Handle integrity.
Twig wear.
General observations.
At the bottom was even a section labeled additional comments.
Adam stared at the parchment. Then at Oliver. Then back at the parchment.
"Why does a broom need paperwork?" he asked.
Oliver looked horrified. The reaction was so immediate that Adam almost took a step back.
"Need paperwork?" Oliver repeated.
As though Adam had just asked why students needed oxygen.
After initial shock, Oliver answered,"How else would maintenance records be kept?"
Adam immediately regretted asking. Harry lowered his own parchment. He no longer wanted answers either.
Oliver either didn't notice or simply chose to ignore their suffering. He seemed far more interested in explaining the inspection process.
"For example," Oliver said, picking up another broom, "most people would look at this and say it's perfectly fine."
Harry nodded.
Adam nodded.
Because it was perfectly fine.
Oliver pointed toward a section near the handle, "Look closer."
Both boys leaned forward. After several seconds, Harry frowned. Adam narrowed his eyes.
There was a tiny crack.
Barely visible.
"You see it?" Oliver asked triumphantly.
Neither boy wanted to admit that they did.
"Minor damage now becomes major damage later.", Oliver carefully turned the broom, "And this grip is beginning to loosen."
He pointed at another section, "The balancing enchantment is also weaker than it should be."
Adam blinked. That actually caught his attention.
"We can tell that?"
"Of course."
For the next ten minutes Oliver enthusiastically explained how broom maintenance worked.
To Adam's annoyance, parts of it were genuinely interesting.
Flight enchantments slowly degraded over time.
Bindings affected stability.
Even tiny imperfections could influence handling.
The information itself wasn't the problem.
The problem was that there were fifteen brooms.
Fifteen.
When Oliver finally finished explaining, he looked at them expectantly, "Any questions?"
Harry slowly raised his hand.
Oliver nodded.
"How long is this supposed to take?"
Oliver glanced at his clipboard, "About an hour."
Harry's shoulders slumped.
Adam's mood worsened further.
An hour inspecting brooms.
Then cleaning.
Then organizing equipment.
Then more work.
His entire day was already planned for him.
And not by him.
"Excellent," Oliver said cheerfully. "Let's get started."
Then, to their complete disbelief, he entered the equipment shed.
A few moments later he emerged carrying a wooden chair.
A chair.
He placed it beside the table, sat down comfortably, opened a thick notebook, and immediately began writing something.
Harry watched him for several seconds.
"What is he doing?" he whispered.
Adam looked over.
Oliver was already making notes while occasionally glancing toward the Quidditch pitch.
"I think he's planning practice."
Harry followed his gaze. Then he looked at the notebook.
Then the clipboard.
Then the stack of schedules.
Then the row of perfectly organized brooms.
A terrible realization slowly dawned on him.
"Adam."
"Yeah?"
"I think Oliver likes Quidditch too much."
Adam picked up the nearest broom and sighed heavily.
"I reached that conclusion yesterday."
With no hope of escape remaining, the two first-years finally began their detention while Oliver Wood watched over them with the satisfied expression of a man whose weekend was proceeding exactly according to plan.
By the time the Gryffindor team finally arrived at two o'clock, both Harry and Adam felt as though they had already worked an entire day.
The broom inspections had taken longer than Oliver originally predicted. Not because the work itself was difficult, but because the Gryffindor captain seemed physically incapable of accepting vague answers. Whenever either of them wrote that a broom was in good condition, Oliver would inevitably appear beside them and ask why it was in good condition.
After that came cleaning.
Then organizing.
Then equipment inspections.
By the time lunch ended, both boys had become far more familiar with Quidditch equipment than they had ever wanted to be.
At two o'clock sharp, the rest of the Gryffindor team arrived.
Oliver's attention immediately shifted from detention supervisor to Quidditch captain.
The transformation was honestly frightening. Within minutes he was barking instructions across the pitch while players mounted their brooms and took to the sky.
Harry and Adam had expected to spend the next hour standing around.
Instead, Oliver found additional work for them.
Somehow.
Whenever a practice Quaffle landed outside the pitch, they retrieved it. Whenever equipment needed moving, they moved it. Whenever Oliver wanted something fetched from the storage shed, one of them was sent running.
It wasn't difficult work.
It was simply endless.
The worst part was that they had front row seats to Quidditch practice.
Harry watched the players dart through the air above him with growing frustration.
Adam wasn't much better.
He had never been particularly interested in sports, but after spending half a day maintaining flying equipment, being forbidden from actually flying felt oddly unfair.
An entire hour passed.
The afternoon sun had begun to drift lower in the sky while the practice continued overhead.
Harry had just returned another Quaffle to the edge of the pitch when he noticed someone approaching.
Oliver was walking toward them. Beside him were Fred and George Weasley. The twins looked suspiciously amused.
Harry immediately became wary. Whenever the twins looked amused, trouble usually followed.
Adam seemed to reach the same conclusion.
The three older Gryffindors stopped in front of them.
Oliver crossed his arms and looked between the two first-years.
For a moment neither Harry nor Adam spoke.
Then Oliver nodded, "Good work."
Both boys blinked. The praise was unexpected.
Oliver gestured vaguely toward the equipment shed behind them, "You've worked hard today."
Harry wasn't sure how to respond.
Adam looked equally surprised.
Oliver nodded again, "Honestly, better than I expected."
Fred immediately looked offended, "Oliver."
George shook his head sadly, "That was almost a compliment."
Oliver ignored them, "As captain, I believe hard work deserves recognition."
Harry's eyes narrowed. That sentence sounded dangerous.
Adam's reaction suggested he felt the same.
Fred grinned.
George grinned.
And suddenly, the danger seemed to have increased significantly.
Oliver leaned forward slightly, "Which brings me to a proposal."
Harry immediately knew he wasn't going to like this, "What kind of proposal?" he asked cautiously.
Oliver's expression became serious, "First, one condition."
Nobody spoke.
Oliver pointed a finger at both of them, "This does not reach Professor McGonagall."
Harry immediately understood.
Adam immediately understood.
The twins immediately looked delighted.
Whatever Oliver was planning, it definitely violated the spirit of their detention.
"Professor McGonagall specifically stated that you would not be flying," Adam pointed out.
Oliver nodded, "Correct."
Harry felt hopeful.
Then Oliver continued, "Officially."
The hope disappeared.
Fred burst out laughing.
George looked proud, "Now you're thinking like a Quidditch captain."
Oliver ignored him. He turned back toward Harry and Adam, "You've spent the entire day around Quidditch equipment."
He pointed toward the pitch.
"You've inspected brooms."
Another point.
"Handled practice equipment."
Another point.
"Observed training."
Another point.
"And listened to me explain half the sport."
Harry wasn't sure that last part counted as a benefit.
Oliver spread his hands and continued, "At this point you probably know more about Quidditch than some second-years."
Adam wasn't convinced that was true.
Harry wasn't convinced either.
Oliver continued before either could object, "So."
A slow smile appeared on his face.
"Get yourselves a broom."
Harry froze.
Adam froze.
The twins immediately began laughing.
Oliver pointed toward the sky where the rest of the Gryffindor team continued practicing.
"Join us."
For several seconds neither first-year spoke. Then Harry looked at him, "Seriously?"
Oliver looked offended, "Of course seriously."
Harry's eyes immediately drifted upward toward the players circling high above the pitch.
The temptation was immediate.
Unfortunately, so was common sense.
"If Professor McGonagall finds out—"
"She won't."
"How do you know?"
Oliver looked toward Fred and George.
The twins immediately placed hands over their hearts.
"Because we are trustworthy individuals."
Harry stared at them.
Adam stared at them.
Even Oliver looked unconvinced.
Fred coughed.
"Mostly trustworthy."
George nodded.
"Occasionally trustworthy."
Harry looked back at Oliver, "That's your plan?"
Oliver hesitated, "...It sounded better before you said it out loud."
The twins immediately lost control and started laughing again.
Meanwhile Harry and Adam found themselves staring toward the sky.
The offer was ridiculous.
It was irresponsible.
It was probably against at least three different school rules.
Yet despite all of that...
Neither of them could deny that it sounded incredibly tempting.
Adam stared at Oliver for a few moments before finally looking toward the sky again. The rest of the Gryffindor team was still circling above the pitch, occasionally diving, turning and accelerating across the open air. The sight alone was enough to make his fingers itch.
If he was being honest with himself, this was probably exactly what Professor McGonagall had expected.
The detention had never really been about punishment. It was about making them understand flying properly.
Making them appreciate it.
Making them respect it.
After spending half a day maintaining brooms and watching practice, Adam found himself understanding that much.
Of course, he wasn't stupid enough to say that out loud.
Instead he immediately turned toward Harry.
"Come on."
Harry blinked, "What?"
"If we're going to get into trouble, we might as well do it quickly."
Before Harry could respond, Adam was already jogging toward the row of reserve brooms.
Behind him, Fred and George erupted into laughter.
"That's the spirit!"
"Definitely a Gryffindor."
Harry looked between Oliver and Adam before giving up entirely and running after him.
A few minutes later both boys were mounted on brooms once again.
Adam wrapped his fingers around the handle and felt a familiar sensation settle over him. Unlike the battered training brooms used during flying lessons, these felt considerably better maintained. Even sitting on one felt different.
Above them, Oliver blew a whistle.
The sharp sound echoed across the pitch.
Immediately the players began descending.
A few moments later the entire team was hovering around them.
Harry couldn't help looking slightly intimidated.
Adam wasn't much better.
For the first time, they weren't watching Quidditch players.
They were surrounded by them.
Oliver pointed toward the sky.
"For now, nothing complicated."
Both boys visibly relaxed.
Then Oliver smiled, "Just fly."
The relief vanished.
Oliver ignored them.
"Get familiar with the pitch."
He pointed upward.
"Different speeds."
Another point.
"Different heights."
Another.
"Different orientations."
Another.
"Get comfortable moving around other players."
Adam frowned.
That last one sounded important.
Oliver seemed to notice.
"Flying alone and flying with other people are completely different things."
He glanced toward the team, "The sky gets crowded. Quidditch pitch looks large but at fast speeds, You blink- You crash."
A moment later Oliver kicked off the ground. The rest of the team followed. Harry and Adam quickly followed after them. The pitch rapidly shrank beneath them. Wind rushed past Adam's face.
The familiar excitement of flight returned almost immediately. Unlike during Madam Hooch's lesson, nobody was simply hovering. The players constantly moved. Someone was always accelerating. Someone was always turning. Someone was always crossing paths with somebody else.
For the first few minutes Adam focused entirely on not colliding with anyone.
Which proved surprisingly difficult.
People moved everywhere.
Katie Bell suddenly shot past him from the left.
Alicia Spinnet crossed overhead.
Angelina Johnson dived beneath him before climbing again.
The sky felt alive.
Adam quickly discovered that maintaining awareness in three dimensions was far harder than it looked from the ground.
Then he noticed Harry.
Adam couldn't help staring for a moment.
Harry was ridiculous.
There was no other word for it.
The boy moved as though he belonged on a broom. Even when he made mistakes, his corrections were instinctive.
Natural.
Effortless.
Adam felt a small wave of admiration.
It wasn't often he encountered someone who was genuinely talented at something.
Harry didn't seem to think about flying. His body simply understood it. It was honestly unfair.
Meanwhile Adam himself had to consciously process everything.
His height.
His speed.
The position of nearby flyers.
The direction of movement.
It took effort.
Harry simply flew.
No wonder Oliver looked at him the way he did.
The thought barely crossed his mind before laughter echoed somewhere nearby.
Adam turned.
Fred and George.
The twins were circling lazily while batting a Bludger between themselves.
Or at least that was what they appeared to be doing.
In reality, they were absolutely targeting him and Harry.
The Bludger wasn't actually coming close enough to be dangerous.
Not yet.
But every few seconds it would suddenly whistle past somewhere nearby before changing direction again.
"Watch out!", Fred shouted.
The Bludger passed several meters away.
Then George immediately followed.
"That was close!"
"It wasn't close!"
"It looked close from here!", Adam narrowed his eyes.
The twins laughed.
A moment later the Bludger changed direction again.
Harry instinctively ducked.
The twins almost fell off their brooms laughing.
Adam couldn't help smiling. They were definitely doing it on purpose. Then another shadow flashed past his vision.
Angelina Johnson.
The older girl flew directly toward him.
For a split second Adam thought she wasn't slowing down.
Then, at the very last moment, she tilted her broom and swept past him with barely any distance between them.
Adam nearly jumped.
Behind her, Alicia was laughing.
Katie wasn't much better.
The three girls had clearly reached the same conclusion as the twins.
Namely that terrifying first-years was entertaining.
"Careful, Adam!" Angelina called over her shoulder.
Her tone suggested she wasn't sorry at all.
A few moments later Katie rushed toward Harry.
Harry reacted better than Adam had.
The older girl veered away at the last second.
Harry looked startled.
Katie looked delighted.
The team was bullying them.
Politely.
Adam stared after the girls.
Then a grin slowly appeared on his face.
Fine.
If that was how they wanted to play.
The next time Angelina approached, Adam was ready. Instead of avoiding her, he accelerated. Angelina's confident smile immediately disappeared. The distance between them rapidly closed.
At the last moment both changed direction. They passed each other safely. But this time it was Angelina who looked surprised.
Fred immediately started laughing, "Oh?"
George looked intrigued, "Oh!"
Adam felt something awaken inside him.
Challenge.
The same feeling he experienced whenever he trained. Whenever he learned something new. Whenever somebody implied he couldn't do something.
For the next twenty minutes he focused entirely on catching up.
Observing.
Learning.
Adapting.
The first few attempts were rough.
Several times he misjudged distances.
Several times he reacted too slowly.
Several times he nearly lost sight of someone passing through his blind spot.
But gradually he improved.
The pitch became less chaotic.
The movements began making sense.
Patterns appeared.
Angles appeared.
People tended to favor certain approaches.
Certain turns.
Certain speeds.
The more he observed, the more he learned.
Soon he found himself anticipating movements rather than merely reacting to them.
The next time Alicia tried rushing his blind spot, Adam rolled slightly and appeared directly in her path.
The older girl blinked, then laughed, "He's learning."
Unfortunately, those words only encouraged everyone.
Soon half the team seemed determined to test him.
Meanwhile Harry continued flying naturally through everything.
The strange thing was that Harry wasn't competitive.
Not yet.
He learned quickly.
Very quickly.
But unlike Adam, he wasn't trying to challenge anyone.
He simply absorbed what he saw and quietly improved.
Almost like a sponge.
Adam occasionally glanced toward him and found himself impressed all over again.
Harry really was a natural.
The annoying kind of natural.
The sort that made difficult things look easy.
An hour earlier Adam had been convinced Oliver Wood was stealing his weekend.
Now, as he banked through another turn while trying to return Angelina's earlier kindness, he found himself grinning despite the wind rushing against his face.
Perhaps Oliver Wood wasn't completely insane after all.
Only mostly insane.
Which, Adam suspected, was still significantly above the Hogwarts average.