“Ohh, look!” Draco Malfoy cried, snatching something out of the grass. “It’s that remembrall thingy!”
Hermione looked. It was the day after Sunset’s lie experiment, and the second Thursday of the year- so it was also time for the first flying lesson for Gryffindors and Slytherins.
That morning, Neville Longbottom- a round-faced, very forgetful boy in their year- had unwrapped the Remembrall at the breakfast table. It was a large, glass marble, and it glowed red when held firmly by someone that had forgotten something. Neville had even demonstrated, complete with the red glow.
The description sounded awfully vague to Hermione- it wouldn’t tell you what you forgot, only that you forgot something… making it supremely useless for Neville, who routinely forgot the password to get into Gryffindor tower and which stairs on which staircases randomly disappeared to trip unsuspecting climbers.
Now, he had taken off before Madam Hooch’s whistle, lost control, and fallen off the broom from high enough to get hurt. Madam Hooch had taken him back to the castle, and told everyone else to leave the brooms where they were, on the ground.
She met Draco’s eyes- and instantly understood.
He was doing it for appearances- and to work properly, he needed a Griffindor to demand he give it back. Apparently, he was hoping she or Hailey would do it- though Ron Weasley, who had sat on Neville’s other side at breakfast, looked like he might.
“Give that here, Malfoy,” she commanded, doing her level best to sound angry… and praying that her wand, which was pinned under a wristband hidden up her left sleeve so it would protect her if she fell from a broom, wouldn’t block her from playing the part.
She was successful. As a matter of fact, she saw the pleasant surprise in Draco’s eyes at exactly how successful her effort had been.
“Oh?” Malfoy jeered, apology in his eyes. “Why should I? Why don’t I leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find- say, up a tree?”
“It won’t stay in a tree,” she answered reflexively, in a matter-of-fact tone. It was true- very, very few trees would have branches placed just right to hold the glass ball without letting it fall to the ground. “Besides, it’s not yours, and stealing is against the rules.” She sharpened her tone to a command again. “Give it here.”
He stared at her for a couple seconds. “Come and get it, then,” he sneered- then snatched up his broom and kicked off.
Hermione held out one hand. “Up!” she commanded.
Her broom, lying a few feet behind her, leaped up and forwards into her hand- and she promptly swept it under herself, careful to sit on her skirt such that she wouldn’t be flashing people down below… which was much easier said than done. Moments later, while a couple other Gryffindors- not Hailey, she noticed- cried for her not to and Philomena took off from her shoulder, she kicked off as well.
Instincts that weren’t hers took over right away, and she shot straight up in the air, before coming to a dead stop, directly in front of Malfoy- level with the tops of the tallest trees.
It was a weird feeling. She knew how to fly- she’d read all about it- but flying instinctively was another matter entirely.
On top of that, she somehow knew that those instincts were coming from her wand as well. It didn’t just make her strong and stop her from lying, an effect it didn’t seem to be having at the moment, but it also made her an expert flier.
Draco stared at her, his eyes filled with genuine surprise.
“Well?” she demanded. “Hand it over.”
There was a moment of silence. She could tell that he was doing some quick thinking.
“Catch it if you can, then,” he told her, threw it high into the air, and dove for the ground.
She watched it rise… then dove as well, following instincts that weren’t hers. She angled her dive- and when her path converged with that of the Remembrall, she held out a hand and easily caught it, before pulling up to swoop back around to Hailey, where she landed and allowed the broom to fall out from under her, to the ground.
For some reason, even though she had acrophobia- fear of heights- something fierce, she hadn’t felt it at all, even during her dive. Was that part of the invincible feeling of her wand?
“Hermione Granger!”
Hermione jumped, and looked.
Professor McGonagall was storming up the grass from the castle, her eyes boring a hole straight through her.
“Now I’ve done it,” she muttered.
Hailey chuckled. “Something tells me it’s not as bad as you’re thinking,” she told her calmly, as Philomena landed on her shoulder again.
“Never, in all my time at Hogwarts-!” Professor McGonagall resumed, so furious she seemed to be having trouble stitching together a complete sentence. “What were you thinking? Could have broken your neck!”
As if, Hermione thought to herself- but she determinedly kept that thought off of her face. Nobody needed to know that her wand made her so strong she could lift cars with single fingers- how her father’s car hadn’t broken when she’d done that accidentally, she had no idea- and that even sledgehammers bounced off her skin with a resounding bang, but no pain at all. She had even, when Philomena had surprised her when she’d unlocked that little box, dented the floor with her head!
So she fully expected that, even if she had fallen off her broom instead of pulling up and landed head-first… she might have had to pull her head out of the ground, but she would have been completely unharmed.
Meanwhile, the other Gryffindors around her- not Hailey, who seemed to be caught between amusement and confusion, she noticed- started trying to argue that it wasn’t her fault. Professor McGonagall shut them down pretty quick with a few orders to be quiet… then commanded Hermione to follow her, and left.
She shared a look with Hailey- and after Hailey shrugged, still looking confused, Hermione turned to follow Professor McGonagall.
She was sure she was going to get expelled… but then, why was Hailey, the goddess whose hair was hidden inside the wand still pinned against her arm, so unconcerned? Why was she confused by Professor McGonagall telling her off for flying without permission?
There was something deeper going on there, and she wanted to find out what.
Which reminded her- perhaps Sunset would stick up for her? She kinda doubted it, but given that ‘pact’ thing Sunset had told her about, she wouldn’t be surprised if she did it anyways. After all, the very same goddess that had granted Sunset’s pact had told Hermione she was special to her!
Unless they were wrong about her.
As she followed Professor McGonagall, it occurred to her that her path was wrong for taking her to her office, or up to the dormitories- was she taking her to see Dumbledore?
Professor McGonagall led her straight to the Charms classroom, knocked, and opened the door. “Excuse me, Professor Flitwick, but may I borrow Wood, please?”
Hermione blinked. Wood? What was that supposed to mean?
A minute later, the answer was revealed as a tall, fifth-year boy whose name tag said ‘Oliver Wood’ on it when he looked curiously at Hermione.
“Follow me,” Professor McGonagall commanded them, and they followed.
Wood kept glancing at Hermione, as if trying to figure out what was going on- and when she met his eyes, she shrugged to tell him she didn’t know either.
Finally, Professor McGonagall led them into an empty classroom- except for Peeves, who she drove out of the room before closing the door.
“Wood,” she began, excitement coloring her tone. “I’ve found you… a Seeker.”
“A what?” Hermione asked promptly. She was pretty sure she’d seen that word somewhere, but she couldn’t quite remember where- whatever it was, it must have struck her as ‘useless trivia’ when she’d found it, so she had instead memorized the potentially more important text elsewhere.
Wood went from politely confused to excited in a second. “Did you really?” he asked.
“Yes,” McGonagall went on. “The girl’s a natural. Caught that thing in her hand after a fifty foot dive.”
“It’s Neville’s,” Hermione muttered.
“Just the right build for one, too,” Wood asked, pacing around her and looking her up and down, which made her feel uneasy. “Was that your first time on a broom, miss… Granger?” She didn’t miss his glance at her nametag at the end.
She nodded faintly, and glanced down at the Remembrall. It was glowing softly red.
Predictable. She’d forgotten what a seeker was.
Wood met her gaze for a few seconds. “Hmm. Ever watched a game of Quidditch?”
She blinked. “Quidditch?” she asked alarmedly.
Quidditch… was the wizards’ sport. Played high in the air, on broomsticks, with four balls.
In normal play, the Quaffle- very similar to a football, or ‘soccer’ ball to Americans- was carried by the three Chasers on each team, who would try to throw it through one of the three goal hoops on either end of the field- massive, vertical hoops, placed fifty feet above the ground. Aside from the opposing Chasers, they also had to get the Quaffle past the Keeper, whose job was to protect the goal hoops. Each time the ball passed through a hoop scored ten points.
Two of the other balls, the bludgers, were heavy iron balls that flew around on their own, trying to knock players off their brooms… and leaving them to fall somewhere around fifty feet with no way to catch themselves. Quite a few people had died because of that, but Hogwarts had an amazing track record of zero deaths on the field, ever. To deal with that danger, each team had two Beaters, each bearing clubs. Their job was to knock the bludgers away from their team, and towards the opposing team.
The fourth ball, the Snitch, was a tiny, walnut-sized, winged golden ball, enchanted to mimic the behavior of a similarly-sized bird. It moved quickly and randomly through the field, and was supposed to be extremely difficult to spot, despite being constructed of very shiny golden metal. The seventh and last player on the team was the Seeker… whose job was to catch the Snitch, full stop. Catching the Snitch was the only way the game could end- and the Seeker that caught it also won their team a hundred and fifty points… which would make the Chasers and Keeper largely pointless, Hermione had observed back when she’d been reading Quidditch through the Ages, unless the Seekers were particularly unskilled.
And that was the position they were trying to give her.
The remembrall stopped glowing red.
She slapped her hand to her forehead. “Quidditch,” she repeated. “Of course.”
They stared at her.
“Are you okay?” Wood asked.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” she told him distractedly. “I just…” She paused, and took a deep breath. “Now I understand what’s going on.” She sighed, and brushed her hair back nervously, hoping for an opportunity to casually turn down the offer. “No, I never watched any Quidditch games- I never was all that interested in sports- but I did read Quidditch through the Ages.” While it was true that she’d never been interested in sports, it was also true that she’d never had the opportunity to watch a Quidditch game. Her wand’s anti-lie behavior seemed to agree that, had she had such an opportunity, she would have turned it down. She was fairly sure her parents would have as well.
Wood paused, looking into her face; he seemed to be satisfied with her body. “Why so nervous?”
“Well, I-!” She broke off, looking at the ground. “I never expected…” She sighed. “I mean, I have muscular dystrophy and acrophobia, so I didn’t think I’d ever get offered a position on a sports team.”
“Acrophobia?” McGonagall asked surprisedly. “You’re afraid of heights? Then what was that dive?”
“I…” She shivered. “I used magic to offset it.”
“But you can do that again, right?” Wood asked.
She nodded faintly; she expected that her wand wouldn’t have let her say ‘no’. “It’s… I didn’t cast it, though.” It was an effect of her wand after all, so if she and Sunset were right, Hailey’s magic, whether she realized it or not. That’d make it a spell cast by Hailey, in theory at least; she wasn’t sure it was the sort of magic that was cast, though.
He tilted his head. “Who did?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know.” She sighed. “It’s through a magic item.”
“Ahh,” Wood muttered. “Wouldn’t be too hard to work with that, unless…” He trailed off, then scowled. “And what’s that muscular… trophy thing?”
She let out a small snort of laughter. “Muscular dystrophy,” she answered. “It’s not one of the kinds known to muggles… but it’s a genetic disease that keeps my muscles from developing.” She sighed. “Nobody else in my extended family has it, so we think it must be a mutation or something.”
He looked at her. “You seem to be strong enough?” he asked.
“Well yeah,” she answered simply, and reached up to gently stroke Philomena. “I have help.”
“Hmm,” Wood muttered.
“Congratulations,” Hailey told Hermione calmly.
Hermione flinched. She’d just told her that she’d been given the position on the Quidditch team; she hadn’t been able to find any reason to turn it down, once Wood had mentioned strengthening spells that would last plenty long enough. She’d been afraid that if she turned it down without good reason, McGonagall would actually give her the punishment she had earned.
She had very carefully not mentioned her wand- which she had returned to her pocket as soon as she was alone.
“Please don’t,” she squeaked. “I don’t- I don’t want it.” She sighed.
“Yeah, I know the feeling,” Hailey told her. “I never wanted to be entered into various athletic and scholastic competitions against my will at my last school, either.” She sighed, putting an arm around her shoulders. “Never forget that I’m here for you whenever you need me, okay?”
Hermione smiled, leaning into her warm embrace. “Yeah,” she said, slipping her arm up underneath Hailey’s, and wrapping it around Hailey’s shoulders. “Same here.”
Hailey chuckled softly, and looked at the table. “Anyways, how about we get some dinner?”
Right at that moment, two red-haired third-year boys that looked almost exactly alike hurried over.
“Well done,” one of them told Hermione, as they sat down quickly on her other side.
“Wha-?” Hermione asked, looking up at them.
Hailey chuckled softly.
“Wood told us,” the boy- George Weasley, according to his nametag- continued. “We’re on the team too. Beaters.”
“We’re going to win that cup for sure this time,” Fred told her. “You must be good- Wood was almost skipping when he told us.”
Hermione buried her face in Hailey’s robes.
Both twins looked instantly uneasy, glancing past Philomena at Hailey before looking back down at her. “Wh-what’s wrong?”
“She didn’t want the position,” Hailey told them calmly, amusement in her voice, then patted Hermione’s shoulder. “But if that’s the case, why did you take it?”
Hermione leaned into her again, and looked up at her. “I didn’t have a choice,” she told her. “It was either that or I got thrown out.”
“She wouldn’t have thrown you out,” Fred told her. “Take points or detention, sure, but it’s hard to get expelled from this place.”
“Believe me,” George said. “We’ve tried. A few times.”
Hermione looked at them. “Did you ever do something you’d just been expressly ordered not to do?”
“Loads of times,” Fred told her.
“Like in our first flying lesson,” George told her. “After the usual skittish person took off early- you’d think they would expect it by now- George and I leaped into the air as soon as Madam Hooch was gone.”
“Yup,” Fred said. “When Professor McGonagall caught us, we were playing Quidditch with some apples Fred stole from breakfast.”
“Huh?” Hermione asked confusedly, looking between them.
Hailey giggled. “They’re wearing each other’s name tags,” she told her.
The twins blinked, and looked down at their own name tags. “Oh yeah, that’s right,” ‘Fred’ said.
Hermione joined Hailey in laughing- and moments later, they did too.
Professor Dumbledore sighed as he ate dinner. It was the day of the first flying lesson for Gryffindor and Slytherin first-year students- Thursday of the second week- and he had already caught himself hoping that young Hermione Granger wasn’t planning on standing out in any more ways. She was already the first phoenix-bonded since himself, and as of that evening was also the youngest Hogwarts quidditch player in about a century with even a school-provided broom- even though the broom hadn’t even been ordered yet.
Then of course, she was very, very close friends with young Hailey Potter- even though their houses were a hundred kilometers apart and both muggle dwellings, according to the Castle database- and could often be found leaning against or hugging her.
Such as now. Even while they ate- or at the moment, as they talked with one Draco Malfoy that had approached them from behind- they had their arms around one another, and Granger was visibly leaning into Potter.
Then of course, even though Professor McGonagall had guided Harry Potter through Diagon Alley, and Harry Potter had gotten the other wand with one of Fawkes’ feathers in it, Harry Potter… didn’t exist, according to the castle database, and hadn’t shown up at the Sorting. He’d even checked the Book of Attendance, but the name simply didn’t appear in it.
The closest match was Hailey Potter… who, according to Professor McGonagall, looked remarkably similar to Harry, despite being of the opposite sex.
The similarities stopped there. Harry had a lightning scar on his forehead, and had been given to the Dursleys to take care of, as his only remaining relatives… unless one counted death eaters, of course. He’d known how nasty the Dursleys were, and that they absolutely despised the magical world. Dumbledore wasn’t happy, but they would have raised Harry as a lamb for the slaughter, necessitating all of Dumbledore’s manipulative strength to get Voldemort to make the crucial mistakes that would ensure his defeat and Harry’s survival. After Sunset’s spell exploded, he’d been unable to reform his monitoring charms- so he’d relied on letters from Mrs. Figg… who had only seen the boy walking to and from school with Dudley, and seemed to be of the opinion that he was doing well.
Then Harry had… disappeared, and Dudley had turned out to be a wizard. How could he have predicted that?
But back to Hailey. She wasn’t just any total stranger that Hermione had gotten so close to so quickly. She seemed to have a strange sense of where she needed to be, enabling her to save Sunset on her first night at Hogwarts; that had made waves, at least in part to how quickly she’d managed to do what Dumbledore had failed to do in seven years by reforming her. On top of that, the entirety of Gryffindor house- including the upper-year students, prefects, and even the Head Girl- seemed to respect Hailey somehow. She was apparently a very scary girl should anyone ever cross her, and was extremely protective of those she held dear… such as Hermione, who rarely left her side.
But even so, Hailey and Hermione were both ‘straight-A students’, in muggle terms- both of them had perfect scores in every subject so far, even including Potions with Professor Snape… who had been awed by their performance. Both of them were members of Sunset’s Research Team, which had even already found a project… though Sunset had probably provided that by resuming her old research. Hopefully in a safe manner this time- but he hadn’t heard any stories about anyone getting sent to Madam Pomfrey, and the instrument in his office that tracked the number of patients there hadn’t responded, so…
Oh yes. Sunset Shimmer… She hadn’t just turned around so suddenly when Hailey saved her; she also practically worshipped Hailey, and lived for the research sessions that Hailey showed up for.
All in all, basically all of his plans were completely useless… and he had no idea where to begin in reforming them.
Especially since they had already begun. Voldemort was already nearby, probably hosted by Professor Quirrell under that ridiculous turban, and the Philosopher’s Stone was in the chamber sequence he had created for that very purpose. Even the Mirror of Erised was already on its way.
He needed to figure things out, and fast- and Granger and Hailey Potter throwing their unexpected wrenches into the mix was not helping.
“I wonder if you’ll be joining flying lesson number two today,” Hailey mused over breakfast.
Hermione looked up at her. “Huh?” It was Thursday morning, a week after the first flying lesson. “Um… Yeah? Why?”
Hailey shrugged. “Just because you did so well on the first one,” she answered. “After I ran circles around the rest of the class last week- apparently I’m a natural- Madam Hooch declared me able to fly and excused me from further lessons.”
Hermione shrugged. “Well of course you’re a natural,” she answered- then quickly stopped herself. She was pretty sure her crazy flying skill actually came from Hailey… who might just have ‘be really good at flying’ as one of her divine powers, as oddly specific as that would be.
Hailey chuckled. “Yeah, especially if I’m favored by a goddess, who knows what effects that has.” She paused, and tilted her head. “I wonder why, though?”
“Good question,” Hermione answered.
“Oh, the mail is here.”
Hermione looked up- and sure enough, a hundred or so owls were streaming into the Great Hall as usual. Also as usual, Hermione had to wonder why a castle containing only three hundred people received a hundred letters every day for various recipients, but again as usual, no answer was forthcoming.
Then an odd package got her attention. It was long and thin, wrapped in brown paper, and carried by a set of six owls. “Who’s receiving a piece of plywood?” she asked- and was rewarded by Hailey’s snort of laughter.
Then the owls swooped over, and dropped it square in front of her.
Hailey’s hand shot out, and she caught it mid-air, her fingers puncturing the paper on the bottom of it as she kept it from landing on their food.
Hermione blinked, then quickly caught a letter dropped by another owl.
“Ahh,” Hailey observed calmly. “Not a bad cleaning tool you’ve got here.”