It was a clear, breezy afternoon.
The first-year Gryffindor and Slytherin students stood eagerly on the grass of the Quidditch Pitch, excited for their very first flying lesson.
Many of them had never even touched a broom before, while others were itching to show off in front of their new classmates.
A boy, about their age, sprinted across the pitch from the far side. He had short dark-brown hair, gray eyes, and a refined look.
"Attention, everyone! Today's flying class is canceled!" he called out. "Madam Hooch has had something come up!"
"What happened?" Romilda Vane shouted shrilly.
"It's canceled, simple as that," the boy shrugged. "It's been rescheduled for Sunday morning!"
After delivering the news, he headed toward the castle.
"He's not joking, is he?" a few first-year Gryffindor girls whispered among themselves.
"Probably not… It's already 2:15, and Madam Hooch should have been here a quarter of an hour ago!"
Still talking, the Gryffindor and Slytherin first-years drifted off toward the castle in small groups.
...
Madam Rolanda Hooch appeared on the eighth floor of the castle, standing before a huge, hideous stone gargoyle, a parchment in her hand.
"Password?" the gargoyle asked lazily.
"Scones," Madam Hooch replied.
The gargoyle sprang aside, revealing a spiral staircase that began to turn on its own.
At the top stood a gleaming oak door, fitted with a brass knocker shaped like a griffin's head.
Beyond it was a spacious, elegant circular room filled with various small, whimsical sounds.
"Good afternoon, Rolanda!" Professor Albus Dumbledore looked up from his copy of The Daily Prophet, eyeing the unexpected visitor.
"Hello, Headmaster Dumbledore—sorry to disturb you." Madam Hooch greeted him, then quickly unrolled the parchment in her hands. "A student helped me compile this data… and he's also made some suggestions for changing the rules of Quidditch."
"Is that so?" Dumbledore's gaze skimmed over line after line of figures before coming to rest at the signature at the bottom.
The portraits of former headmasters and headmistresses, who had just been dozing quietly in their own frames, suddenly crowded into Dumbledore's portrait. In an instant, dozens of heads were jammed together inside a single frame.
"He's out of his mind!" Dexter Fortescue bellowed, looking like an enraged donkey. "Remove the Golden Snitch and the Seeker? He's destroying Quidditch!"
This wizard, who had served as Hogwarts headmaster from 1642 to 1711, had once been a brilliant Seeker himself. In 1622, as captain, he had led the England national team to victory in the Quidditch World Cup—the only time England had ever won the title.
"That's right!" Headmaster Phineas Black said hotly. "A second-year Muggle-born student, daring to tamper with rules that have stood for centuries… He's ignoring the power of tradition! If I were still headmaster, I'd see to it he felt the sting of the whip!"
"How do you know he's a second-year Muggle-born?" Headmistress Dilys Derwent asked pleasantly.
"Didn't you see the name at the bottom—Jon Hart?" Phineas shot her a look. "Dumbledore's mentioned him more than once, a second-year mud—"
"Don't use that word!" Several other headmasters promptly shoved something into his mouth and dumped him into a frame next door.
"Oh, I see now!" Dilys Derwent said with a smile and a wink. "I remember him—a very talented Hufflepuff first-year. I actually support his suggestion; it's interesting and quite logical. In fact, back in September 1755, I had the very same idea about changing the Quidditch rules—"
"Silence, Dilys!" Dexter Fortescue roared. "You'd ruin Quidditch!"
"Show some respect, Dexter!" Dilys shot back, utterly unfazed.
The two launched into a shouting match… Phineas Black clearly wanted to join in, but the sock stuffed in his mouth kept him silent.
"Enough!" Dumbledore's sharp command cut through the argument.
The headmasters retreated to their own frames, each resuming a pretense of sleep.
"Yes, some very thoughtful suggestions," Dumbledore said, turning back to the parchment. "For example, giving Beaters gloves and placing a protective spell around Keepers—both excellent ideas… Wouldn't you agree, Dexter?"
Headmaster Dexter Fortescue opened his eyes grudgingly. "Yes—if we're talking about just those two."
"As for the other two points, they're open to debate," Dumbledore went on. "Take, for instance, the time limit on Quaffle possession. Rolanda, I think you should discuss that with the house Quidditch captains and their Chasers. If approved, there should be a one- or two-year adjustment period before it's introduced in the Quidditch Cup."
"You're right, Headmaster." Madam Hooch nodded thoughtfully. "And the last one… about the Seeker and the Golden Snitch?"
The room fell completely silent. Every portrait seemed to hold its breath, eyes flicking toward Dumbledore.
"To be honest, I find that idea the most interesting—and it has solid reasoning behind it." Smiling faintly, Dumbledore gave a small wave of his hand, drawing thick lines through the section about the Seeker and the Golden Snitch. "However, even as honorary president of the International Association of Quidditch, I'm not in a position to say too much about it… So whoever made the suggestion can deal with that themselves in the future."
Dexter Fortescue let out a sigh of relief.
Dilys Derwent gave a dismissive snort and closed her eyes.
Dumbledore handed the parchment back to Madam Hooch. "By the way, Rolanda—did Mr. Hart have any requests after making these suggestions?"
"Requests?" Madam Hooch hesitated, then said slowly, "I think he mentioned… if the proposal was accepted… he hoped to receive a Special Contribution Award, if possible."
"Did he now?" A glint appeared in Dumbledore's blue eyes, and a fresh sheet of parchment floated to his desk.
"No, Albus!" Phineas Black had at last freed himself from the sock and cried out, "You can't just hand out a Special Contribution Award! It's the highest honor at Hogwarts—each student can only earn it once in seven years!"
"Perhaps our criteria differ, Phineas," Dumbledore replied calmly. "In my view, this is more than enough."
He began writing slowly:
For his outstanding contribution to Quidditch, Mr. Jon-Erik Hart is hereby awarded the Hogwarts Special Contribution Award (1993).
Hogwarts Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore
Fawkes, the phoenix, fluttered over and pressed a talon print beside Dumbledore's signature.
"Albus, shall I arrange to have a medal made for him?" Dilys Derwent asked with a smile.
"No need," Madam Hooch interjected quickly. "Mr. Hart said he doesn't want this made into a big deal."
"All right…" Dilys looked faintly disappointed.
...
Madam Hooch left the office with the award certificate.
Phineas Black's mouth was promptly stuffed with a sock again—he had nearly blurted out "Mudblood" in anger.
"Oliver?" Dumbledore's gaze shifted to the highest portrait.
It held a middle-aged headmaster in military uniform, his expression severe.
"What is it, Albus?" Headmaster Oliver Cromwell asked evenly.
"I'm not well-versed in the school rules from your time," Dumbledore said with a smile, "but I'm curious—does the Special Contribution Award serve any purpose beyond honor?"
"Hogwarts Rule 67," Oliver Cromwell recited coldly. "A student who has made an outstanding contribution to any course may be exempted once from corporal punishment by that course's teacher."
"Corporal punishment was abolished fifty years ago. That rule now seems to grant exemption from one exam instead."
"Thank you, Oliver."
"You're welcome, Albus."