Leon's first week at Hogwarts was, to put it mildly, packed to the brim.
Honestly, it was too packed.
But finally, Saturday rolled around—a chance to catch a break…
"Leon! Up you get! Starting today, we're promoting the club in the Great Hall during breakfast. It's the first day, and you can't skip it!"
Leon stirred, groggy, half-convinced he was imagining Ginny's voice.
No way. This was the boys' dormitory.
Mumbling, he rolled over, determined to sleep on…
Whoosh!
Ginny yanked open the curtains of Leon's four-poster bed.
The hazy sunlight made him even drowsier.
"Mum, it's Saturday. No school. Just… five more minutes…"
Ginny stood at the bedside, hands on hips, radiating the same fiery energy as Mrs. Weasley.
"Up! Get dressed! No more sleeping! Downstairs, now!"
With one swift tug, Ginny ripped off Leon's blanket and tossed the clothes draped over the chair onto his head. The belt's copper buckle smacked his forehead, sending stars bursting across his vision.
"Ow! I'm dying, I'm dying, my head—ow, it hurts! I'm fainting!"
Leon made a last-ditch effort to cling to his beloved bed, but Ginny? She'd grown up watching her mum wrangle six brothers. She wasn't fazed.
A few minutes later, a sulky Leon trailed behind Ginny as they left the Gryffindor Tower for the Great Hall.
She wasn't kidding about the time. The Gryffindor table was already half-full when they arrived. Ron and Hermione were there, but Harry and Colin were nowhere to be seen.
Clutching a stack of colorful flyers, Ginny frowned. "Where's Harry? And Colin? How can they both skip out on the first day of club promotion?"
Ron, busy slathering jam on his bread and sipping pumpkin juice, shrugged. "Harry got dragged off by Oliver Wood before dawn for Quidditch practice. You know how it is."
Leon, munching on bacon, chimed in, "Yeah, Colin mentioned he was going to snap some shots of Harry's training."
"Training in the first week of school?" Ginny groaned, too stressed to eat. "Harry's the star of this club! How are we supposed to promote without him?"
Hermione, packing up her bag and clearly about to leave, tried to soothe her. "Don't worry, Ginny. One day won't ruin things. I think—"
"With Harry's fame, you don't even need these," Leon cut in, picking up a garish flyer and giving it a quick glance before tossing it aside.
"What do you mean?" Ginny asked, confused.
"I mean, all you need is…"
Leon gripped the table, hoisted himself up, and stood tall on its surface. He put his fingers to his lips and let out a piercing whistle, grabbing everyone's attention.
"Listen up, everyone! The Harry Potter Global Fan Club is officially launching today! Recruitment starts now. If you're interested, head to the Gryffindor table and sign up with Ginny Weasley!"
In less than thirty seconds, Leon had nailed the club's pitch.
And it worked. Several students immediately swarmed Ginny to sign up. Others huddled with friends, discussing before joining in. Some just came to gawk or ask questions.
Within minutes, Ginny was mobbed, frantically handling the crowd alone as her so-called teammates had vanished.
She was fuming.
Just then, Luna swooped in like an angel. "Ginny, I can help."
Squeezing in beside her, Luna pulled out a quill made from some odd plant and spread out a sheet of parchment to record names.
"Luna, you're the only good one!" Ginny wailed. "They're all rotten!"
…
The rotten trio—Leon, Hermione, and Ron—bolted out of the castle, laughing as they slowed down, certain no one was chasing them.
"It's not that we're slacking or didn't want to help Ginny," Hermione said, a bit guilty. "It's just… we know Harry so well, promoting his fan club feels… awkward?"
"Yeah," Ron agreed, his face scrunching. "When I said yes, I was just thinking about earning enough Galleons to get Dad a new car. But actually doing it? So weird."
"Don't worry," Leon said, chewing on a chocolate wand and gazing toward the Quidditch pitch. "Once the Galleons start rolling in, you'll get used to it."
A light morning mist Leoned, though the sun was high. The pitch looked empty from afar—no fliers in sight.
"Training's over already?" Ron wondered, puzzled.
"Let's ask Colin," Leon suggested, pointing to the stands.
The trio climbed up and sat beside Colin, but before they could ask anything, they spotted figures in scarlet Quidditch robes emerging from the changing rooms.
"They haven't even started practice?" Ron asked, incredulous.
Colin, buzzing with excitement, was snapping photos of Harry soaring in the air. "Yeah, I've been here since dawn with Harry. Finally caught him training!"
"Hey, hold off on the camera," Leon said, pointing. "Look who's coming."
A group in green robes was approaching the pitch fast. Leon's heart raced—he'd come to witness this iconic moment. Ron's wand wasn't broken this time, so would Draco Malfoy be spitting slugs instead?
The trio descended the stands, nearing the brewing clash between the red and green teams.
"What's going on? You… Malfoy? What are you doing here?" Ron asked, spotting Draco in Slytherin's emerald robes, his tone dripping with disgust.
"I'm Slytherin's new Seeker, Weasley," Malfoy sneered, his usual arrogance on full display. He gestured to his teammates, who proudly lined up their gleaming Nimbus 2001 brooms. The golden lettering practically sparkled with Galleons.
"Little gift from my father," Malfoy taunted. "Jealous, Weasley? Your dad could work at the Ministry his whole life and not afford a single twig of these. But maybe you could sell those Comet Fives to a museum. Antique brooms that actually fly instead of sweep are rare, you know."
The Slytherins roared with laughter.
"Proud of yourself, Draco Malfoy?" Hermione shot back, her words sharp. "Gryffindor's team earned their spots with skill. You bought your way in and have the nerve to brag?"
Malfoy's smirk vanished, replaced by venom. "No one asked you, you filthy little Mud—"
Leon couldn't hold back. Knowing what was coming was one thing; hearing it in person was another. Malfoy deserved this.
With a flick of his wand, Leon hit Malfoy with a powerful Scouring Charm. Pink soap bubbles poured from Malfoy's mouth.
"Got a foul mouth? Don't pollute the air," Leon said coldly.
Malfoy, unable to speak, glared and made a rude gesture. That was the last straw. The Gryffindors' and Slytherins' tempers ignited, and the two teams clashed in a chaotic brawl.
Ron raised his wand. "Eat slugs, Malfoy!"
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