While Ronald occupied himself with dinner and later detention with Filch, the caretaker, Harry was focused on successfully casting a charm he discovered in his fourth-year books: the Attention Disruptor Charm. Although not as effective or long-lasting as the Notice-Me-Not Charm, this spell required significant mental concentration to locate the charmed object, something Harry suspected his red-haired dormmate, Ron, struggled with—unless it was related to food, of course.
It took Harry nearly three hours to cast the charm correctly on himself; he wanted to avoid the charm interfering whenever he needed to access his belongings or go to sleep. With a mischievous grin, he thought it was time for some payback. With Neville, Dean, and Seamus in the common room, there was no need for Harry to hide his actions—no one would see him and report back, so he approached Ron's bed and cast the charm over it, this time without keying in anyone else. This way, Harry could feign innocence as a fellow victim of the prank. Without needing to recast, the charm would last about three days. Once it was in place, Harry quickly returned to his own bed.
That night, the four boys enjoyed a good laugh at the expense of Ron, who was unable to find his own bed.
/ *** \
Harry's second week at school was significantly better than the first. He was becoming more familiar with the castle and getting lost less frequently. By the time Friday's Potions class arrived, he had managed to earn back enough points for Gryffindor to counterbalance what Snape—er, Professor Snape—had taken from him the previous week. This time, the potions master skipped the usual questioning and assigned the lesson's task right away. Thanks to his glare having little effect on Harry, who continued to brew correctly, the double period went smoothly for him.
On Wednesday of that week, Harry visited Hagrid at his hut near the Forbidden Forest. The giant man was very friendly—though his cooking was frankly inedible for most—and had vast knowledge about animals and the forest. However, as Harry prepared to leave, he noticed a newspaper—the Daily Prophet—containing a headline that piqued his interest: "Failed Robbery of Gringotts Bank." While Hagrid busied himself clearing the table, Harry quickly scanned the article. The robbery had failed because the vault they aimed to raid was emptied earlier that day—the same day Hagrid had brought Harry for a visit—while the robbers had managed to escape unnoticed. It was concerning that someone could bypass the goblins' defenses, but for now, Harry dismissed it, although he noted that whatever the thieves were after was now on Hogwarts grounds.
/ *** \
On Monday evening of the third week, a note appeared on the Gryffindor common room's information board announcing a flying lesson scheduled for Thursday. This immediately ignited a competition among pure-blood and half-blood first years, each trying to spin the most absurd tales about their broomstick talents. In Gryffindor, Ron Weasley was undoubtedly the reigning champion in that contest. Regardless, the lesson would reveal whether he had any real skill on a broom.
Meanwhile, Harry was more intrigued by what the Ministry's archives would reveal about his name. Following Professor McGonagall's suggestion, he had submitted a request to look up his registered name, but it had been over a week without any word. Given his uncle's tirades about the bureaucratic inefficiencies, he didn't expect a response anytime soon.
Wednesday brought a gift for Neville from his grandmother—a Remembrall, a small glass ball that filled with red mist when its holder forgets something. Naturally, this made Neville the target of jokes from several Slytherin students, particularly Nott. However, after Harry politely pointed out that such jokes were beneath their social standing, the Slytherins backed off, much to Neville's relief.
Come Thursday, the weather was ideal for flying, cool and breezy, with a clear sky and the autumn sun shining overhead. Following their Charms lesson with the Ravenclaws, the Gryffindors rushed to the grounds for their flying lesson, where they found the Slytherin students already gathered, lined up in front of the school brooms, separated by gender. The Gryffindors had no choice but to stand behind their own line of brooms. Almost immediately, Madam Hooch appeared, resembling a gray hawk.
"Welcome to your flying lesson," she announced, her sharp yellow eyes scanning the first-years. As everyone stood by their broomsticks, there was no initial problem. "Extend your leading hand over the broom and say 'Up!'" she instructed. The air filled with shouts as students attempted to summon their brooms. Harry successfully made his broom fly into his hand on the first try, while many others struggled—Hermione's broom twitched on the ground, Neville's remained immobile, and Blaise's broom smacked him in the face, drawing laughter from Gryffindors.
Madam Hooch corrected the students' grips and demonstrated how to mount their brooms without sliding off the end. "Now, when I blow my whistle, you'll kick off from the ground hard," she said. "Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle. Three. Two. One..." Before she could whistle, Neville's broom began to rise on its own, likely due to his nervousness.
"Aah!" Neville cried out, clearly wishing for solid ground beneath him, as he struggled and failed to bring his broom back down.
"Come back, boy!" Madam Hooch shouted, but Neville still couldn't regain control of his broom. Harry quickly noticed Neville's grip on the handle was slipping. Without thinking twice, Harry shot off the ground and zoomed toward Neville at a speed the old broom shouldn't have been able to achieve. As Neville slipped off and began to fall, Harry was there to catch him. However, while he had the strength to save Neville, his broom was not powerful enough to support both their weights, and they began to plummet towards the ground.
In a moment of impulsive heroism, Harry made a daring decision: just nine feet from the ground, he threw the broom aside and oriented himself and Neville to minimize injury from the landing—a skill he had learned during his time with the Dursleys. The landing was still harsh, with the horizontal momentum exacerbating the impact. Neville ended up with a broken wrist and scrapes, while Harry fared much worse—his back was scraped along the rough ground, and his clothes were severely damaged.
"Everyone stay put while I take these two to the hospital wing," Madam Hooch commanded sternly. "Leave your brooms where they are or you'll be expelled faster than you can say 'Quidditch!'" While Neville could walk on his own, Harry had to be levitated to prevent further injury.
The hospital wing was a pristine, sterile space located on the first floor of the east wing of the castle, with the familiar fragrance of a hospital. Managed by Madam Pomfrey, an exceedingly caring medi-witch, she quickly began tending to the boys' wounds while muttering about the dangers of flying lessons. Meanwhile, Madam Hooch worked to magically repair Harry's clothing.
"First, Mr. Potter," Madam Hooch finally said when Harry's grimace of pain had faded. "I'm awarding forty points to Gryffindor for your quick thinking in saving your classmate, but I strongly advise against such impulsive actions in the future." Harry nodded weakly in agreement. "Additionally, given how you handled your broom, I suspect flying might be in your blood. I'll speak with Minerva about the possibility of you trying out for the Quidditch team. She certainly could use a solid flier, but this must remain confidential, understood?" Harry nodded again, along with Neville. "Excellent. I'll take my leave now. Have a quick and painless recovery, you two." With that, she departed, leaving Harry and Neville in Madam Pomfrey's capable hands.
/ *** \
The next morning, Harry was discharged from the hospital wing with barely enough time to eat breakfast before hurrying back to the Gryffindor tower to gather his things for the day's classes. The attention he received for his stunt—both positive and negative, particularly from those who thought he was merely showing off—added to his stress. Professor Snape, in particular, seemed determined to take points away from Harry that Friday morning for trivial reasons, such as how loudly he breathed.
Transfiguration proved to be a more favorable class than Potions. Professor McGonagall showed pride in Harry's progress, easing the gothic tension Snape created. Harry also began to find Transfiguration easier, earning back some of the points he lost earlier that day. As the bell rang, signaling the end of class, students began to pack their belongings.
"Mr. Potter, please stay behind," Professor McGonagall called, prompting Harry to move toward her desk instead of heading for the exit.
"Yes, Professor?" he responded.
"Rolanda Hooch came to see me yesterday to discuss your broom handling skills and suggested that I look into the possibility of you trying out for the Quidditch team." Harry attempted to feign surprise, but he sensed that McGonagall saw through his act. "I also spoke with Oliver Wood, the Gryffindor Quidditch team captain. He commented, and I quote, 'If this boy catches as well as he does his classmates, I see no issue with him being on the team.' Apparently, he witnessed you catch Mr. Longbottom from the classroom window." McGonagall continued, "Thus, I contacted the Headmaster seeking permission for you to join the team, which he granted, with the stipulation that you must go through the tryouts. Unfortunately, the Headmaster insisted that you cannot have your own broom this year; he fears it would reflect favoritism on my part, which would harm not only you and myself but the entire school." Harry nodded in understanding.
"I understand, Professor. Is there a rule against students owning more than one broom? If I make the team, I could purchase one and transfer ownership to someone on the team until the end of the year." McGonagall confirmed that no such rule existed. This was a clever solution, though Harry knew it had a slightly Slytherin vibe.
"Very well, Mr. Potter. Now, I know you have another class to attend, so I suggest you hurry if you don't want to be late." Harry nodded and rushed out of the Transfiguration classroom.
Later that day, after fourth period concluded, a burly fifth-year student named Oliver Wood approached Harry in the Gryffindor common room.
"Potter, Professor McGonagall asked me to evaluate whether you're suited for the Seeker position on our Quidditch team. Be at the stadium tomorrow at eight AM for the tryouts," Oliver said. "And don't think I'll go easy on you just because you're a first-year. If you make the team, keep up with your studies; she has warned that if your grades slip due to Quidditch, she'll suspend you from the team until your third year. I'd hate to lose another Seeker." Harry nodded, understanding the importance of balancing sport with academics.
"I need to become a Seeker first," Harry replied. "I'll be there."
"Great," Oliver responded. "Have a good evening." He then moved to a quieter area of the common room to focus on his homework.
/ *** \
As an early riser, Harry had no trouble arriving at the Quidditch stadium before the scheduled time. Only three other students were attempting to secure the Seeker position, with another five vying to be Chasers. At eight sharp, Oliver Wood, clad in his Gryffindor Quidditch uniform and carrying a broom, gathered the students in front of the lockers to change into their uniforms. He then gave a brief introduction to Quidditch and outlined his expectations for the team members. Once he was finished, he distributed school broomsticks to ensure there were no advantages and led them out onto the field, where the rest of the team—Fred and George Weasley, along with Alicia Spinnet and Angelina Johnson—were waiting.
"Alright, everyone. Those trying out for Chaser, follow the ladies to that end of the stadium. I'll join you shortly," Oliver instructed, pointing to Alicia and Angelina. For the Seeker hopefuls, he announced, "I will now release fifteen Snitches. You'll have two hours to catch as many as possible while the twins act as Beaters trying to stop you. If there's a tie, we'll repeat the round with the previous winners. Understood?" After receiving affirmative responses from the Seeker candidates, he released two Bludgers, and once the Weasley twins were airborne, he unleashed the fifteen tiny golden Snitches. "Begin!" he shouted, starting the two-hour timer.
The next couple of hours became a furious scramble for survival, with the Weasley twins showing no mercy to the Seeker candidates. Two of the challengers lasted only minutes before crashing out. Thankfully, Harry showcased enough skill to avoid injury. He managed to catch eight Snitches, easily surpassing his competitors and feeling a strong sense of victory—the sheer thrill of flying added to the challenge.
At the two-hour mark, Wood approached the group to review the catch count. With his eight Snitches to the three of his nearest competitor, Harry secured the position.
"Congratulations, Potter," Oliver declared, although the losing third-year scowled in defeat. "I've heard from Professor McGonagall about your broomstick situation. Is it true?"
"Yes, the Headmaster made an exception for me to join the team," Harry replied. "However, there's no rule against owning multiple brooms, so I plan to buy one and temporarily transfer ownership to someone on the team until the year's end." Oliver nodded, acknowledging the point.
"What kind of broom are you considering? As a Seeker, you'll need a high-quality one—perhaps a Cleansweep Seven or a Nimbus 2000..." Wood suggested.
"Unfortunately, I can't afford that," Harry said. "I ordered a broom catalog yesterday, and the best options I could afford are a Cleansweep Four or a Comet 270 new, or a used Cleansweep Six." He knew he had around two thousand Galleons in his vault, but that was meant to last throughout his seven years at Hogwarts, so he hesitated to spend excessively.
"The difference among the latest Cleansweep models lies mainly in their top speed, which isn't critical for me as a Keeper. I'll offer you my Cleansweep Six in exchange for your Cleansweep Four. Just make sure to bring home the wins," Oliver said. Harry nodded in appreciation.
"Thanks. I'll be there," Harry stated with determination.
"Good. You'll receive details about your first training session tomorrow at seven. Don't be late!" Wood emphasized before Harry made his way out.