Leon didn't mean to break school rules and sneak into the Forbidden Forest, honestly.
It wasn't like he was desperate for some last-minute broomstick training before flying lessons, either.
He'd already given up on that.
Worst case, he'd just fall gracefully tomorrow and salvage some dignity.
But after lunch, when he went to find Tom, he discovered the little troublemaker had wandered into the Forbidden Forest. In just a few days, Tom had already mapped out the outer edges like he owned the place.
That's when Leon got the idea to find a clearing near the forest's edge to practice basic broomstick skills.
First, he nicked a broom from the shed near the Quidditch pitch.
Then he dragged Harry along to help him train.
Harry, hearing Leon's plan, couldn't help but be impressed by his knack for chaos.
But that chaotic energy was part of why people liked Leon.
He radiated this vibrant, larger-than-life energy, like the brightest summer sun.
How could anyone from dreary, damp England resist that?
So, half-reluctantly, half-willingly, Harry followed Leon to the edge of the Forbidden Forest.
Leon glanced around, not spotting his pet, and called out, "Tom? Where'd you run off to?"
"Squawk! Tom's here!"
A slightly chubbier Tom, with his vibrant pink feathers impossible to miss, flapped over noisily and landed on Leon's shoulder.
"Fat bird! What've you been eating lately? You're heavier!"
Leon groaned as his shoulder sagged under Tom's weight, like a solid boulder had landed on him.
"Squawk! You're the fat bird! Your whole family's fat birds! Squawk! Tom's strong!"
Tom's temper flared, and he spread his wings, ready to smack his owner.
Predictably, he was quickly subdued.
"Alright, alright, lead the way already. Don't waste time—I've hired a top-tier coach here! Costs several Galleons a minute!"
Leon slung an arm around Harry's shoulder as they started down a forest path, his tone dripping with exaggeration.
"You…"
Harry just shook his head with a helpless smile.
Leon was worse than the Weasley twins with his constant joking and wild ideas.
But honestly? It wasn't a bad vibe.
With Tom leading, they didn't venture deep into the forest. Instead, they stopped at a clearing about half the size of a basketball court.
It wasn't far—Hogwarts' towers were still visible from there.
"What do you think? It's close to Hagrid's, right? Even if we run into some beast, we can bolt. I only brought you here because it seemed safe."
Leon eyed the spot. Aside from being a bit small, it was perfect—open, well-lit, with sparse vegetation compared to the forest's depths.
It wasn't big enough for a Quidditch team, but for one-on-one broom lessons, it was just right.
"Honestly, I'm not sure how to teach you," Harry admitted, scratching his head.
By now, Leon had followed Harry's instructions, placing the broom on the ground and standing beside it.
Tom perched on a nearby tree, tilting his head to watch the show.
Harry was being truthful. His own broom skills were pure talent, not something he'd learned step-by-step.
Leon shook his head, then flashed a grin, showing off two rows of gleaming teeth.
"Harry, oh Harry, Harry."
His voice was a spot-on imitation of Lockhart.
Harry's skin crawled with goosebumps.
Leon kept going, mimicking Lockhart perfectly: "Yes, yes, young man, I know what you're thinking…"
"I'll teach!"
Harry cut him off, spooked. "I'll teach, alright?!"
"Heh."
Leon stuck out his tongue at a thoroughly exasperated Harry.
After that, one taught patiently, and the other learned clumsily.
Progress wasn't bad.
After one tumble, Leon managed to hover about twenty centimeters off the ground and glide slowly.
Still, he felt uneasy, squirming on the broom like ants were crawling over him.
He muttered under his breath, "This blasted broom isn't made for humans! What's with these cushioning charms or seat-padding spells? They're useless! My butt's still sore. Why hasn't anyone invented a sofa spell for brooms? A sponge-cushion spell would do!"
Harry quickly corrected Leon's movements, coaching seriously: "Leon, stop fidgeting! Lean forward, keep your upper body low! Gently lift the broom handle to gain height, and when you press down, don't overdo it, or you'll—"
"Squawk! Idiot Leon's gonna crash into the ground! Squawk squawk squawk!"
Tom cackled from his perch, nearly falling off the branch.
"Pfft! Shut it, Tom!"
Leon scrambled up from the grass, spitting out leaves and pointing at Tom, ready to hit him with a Silencio for mocking him.
"Wait!" Harry interrupted.
"No waiting! I'm teaching this rotten bird a lesson!"
Leon rolled up his sleeves, ready to climb the tree.
"No, listen—do you hear that?"
Harry grabbed Leon, tilting his head toward a distant sound.
Leon paused, noticing a low rumbling that grew louder and clearer, heading their way.
Frowning, he couldn't place what kind of beast made that noise.
Better safe than sorry—time to run.
Leon grabbed the broom and shoved it at Harry. "Quick, Harry, get on and fly us out of here!"
Tom bounced on the branch, screeching excitedly: "Squawk! Car! Squawk! Flying car!"
Harry froze at Tom's words.
The rumbling grew closer.
Leon recognized it now—an car engine.
Soon, they spotted the pale blue car, weaving through low shrubs, speeding toward them.
"Brilliant! Mr. Weasley's car is back!"
Harry was thrilled.
Lately, all his troubles—fan clubs, monthly newsletters—stemmed from that missing car.
If they could return it to Mr. Weasley, maybe the fan club would disband?
Okay, probably not.
But surely the Harry Potter newsletter would stop publishing!
It was honestly a bit embarrassing…
Leon wasn't as optimistic.
He suddenly realized this clearing was the perfect size for a car to park.
Had they stumbled into the flying car's territory?
Vroom… screech!
The old Ford rolled up and braked.
Compared to ten days ago, it looked rough—missing a windshield wiper, rearview mirrors tangled with branches, paint scratched on both sides.
The car seemed to sense intruders in its domain.
Its high beams flicked on.
Even in daylight, the glare was blinding.
Leon and Harry squinted, turning their heads.
Vroom—vroom!
The engine roared again.
"Uh, hello, Mr. Car. How're you doing?"
Harry, thinking it was a friendly greeting, started to approach with a grin.
Leon yanked him back. "Don't go near it! Something's off!"
Leon's sharp senses picked up the car's restless magical energy.
He'd only ridden in it once, Harry maybe three times.
Neither of them was its owner.
And Leon's overuse might've contributed to its escape.
He wasn't expecting a warm welcome.
HONK!
The car's horn blared, deafening.
Blinded by high beams and deafened by the horn, the car charged straight at them.
"Run!"
Leon grabbed Harry's arm and sprinted toward the forest's edge.
The flying car chased them relentlessly.
But, as everyone knew, Leon had a terrible sense of direction.
The path he thought led out actually took them deeper into the forest.
Leon, a stamina freak, ran so fast that Harry, dragged along, was panting like a dog, unable to speak.
Tom, overweight and slow, struggled to keep up in the dense forest.
Leon was long gone, out of sight.
Luckily, the car's noise and blazing lights kept Tom on track.
Flapping hard and squawking, Tom shouted, "Squawk! Idiot Leon! You're running the wrong way!"
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