Harry sat motionless for a while, waiting for his emotions to settle before he began searching for clues.
Grasping his wand, he gave it a gentle wave.
"Revelio!"
But nothing happened. The Order of the Phoenix's meeting room bore no traces of his old friends.
After a fruitless search in the Room of Requirement, Harry reluctantly decided to give up.
He slipped back into the Gryffindor dormitory and flopped onto his bed. Across from him, Ron lay sound asleep, smacking his lips as though savoring a dream of something delicious.
The next day, Harry slept in until noon.
He wasn't alone; many of his dorm mates did the same.
"Good morning," Ron greeted with a smile.
"It's already noon," Harry replied, drawing the curtains and peering out the window.
On regular days, young wizards received their packages during breakfast. But being a weekend, they all slept late, so the owls delivered packages at noon.
An owl swooped in through the doorway, dropping a package squarely onto Neville's lap.
"Ouch!" Neville yelped. "Carol, you always do this!"
He muttered as he opened the package, pulling out a glass orb about the size of half a fist. Inside, white smoke swirled.
"Look, it's a Remembrall," Seamus said with a grin.
"Yeah, a Remembrall," Neville replied with a sheepish expression. "Gran knows I'm forgetful—it's supposed to tell you if you've forgotten something. You hold it like this, and if it turns red—oh no!"
As the orb glowed bright red, Neville's face fell. "It means I've forgotten something!"
He frantically tried to recall what it could be when Draco sauntered past the Gryffindor table and snatched the Remembrall from Neville's hand.
"Malfoy!" Harry, already in a foul mood, shot to his feet. "Give Neville his Remembrall back."
"Why should I?" Draco sneered, tossing the orb in his hand. "This little lump is so dim even a Remembrall can't help him remember how to wear his robes properly."
With a smirk, Draco slammed the Remembrall onto the table.
"Next time, try using your fat head to think, Longbottom," he added coldly. "People like you are just—"
He abruptly stopped as Professor McGonagall appeared, her sharp gaze fixed on the scene.
"What's going on here?" she asked sternly.
"Malfoy took my Remembrall, Professor," Neville said quickly. "Harry and Ron were telling him to give it back."
Draco smirked defiantly at Harry and Ron before slinking away.
Harry's already foul mood worsened.
He had the sudden urge to cast Legilimens on Draco's pale, scrawny face—not just to teach him a lesson but also to see if he had any memories related to Cassandra.
"Well done, Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley," Professor McGonagall said, a faint smile tugging at her otherwise stern expression.
"Thank you, Professor," Harry and Ron replied in unison.
On Tuesday, after a dull History of Magic class, Flying lessons finally arrived.
The monotony of Professor Binns' droning lectures always made Flying lessons a refreshing change of pace.
Even the groggiest students perked up instantly.
Flying lessons were shared between Gryffindor and Slytherin. Unfortunately, Professor Binns, true to form, had let his class overrun, so the Gryffindor students arrived late.
The Slytherins, already waiting, looked visibly annoyed. Twenty broomsticks lay neatly arranged on the ground.
"These brooms are ancient," Ron muttered to Harry. "I heard they've been here since Bill's time at Hogwarts. Fred says they shudder at high altitudes, and the steering is awful."
"They should replace them," Harry said absently, his thoughts elsewhere.
While Ron seemed excited, Neville and Hermione were visibly nervous.
Hermione clung to passages from Quidditch Through the Ages, reciting theoretical tips to ease her anxiety. Neville, finding comfort in her confidence, stayed close, absorbing her rapid explanations.
Madam Hooch soon arrived, her short gray hair and hawk-like eyes commanding attention.
"All right, what are you waiting for?" she barked. "Stand by a broomstick—quickly! We haven't got all day!"
"Stick out your right hand over the broom," Madam Hooch instructed. "Say, Up!"
"Up!" everyone shouted.
Harry's broom leapt instantly into his hand. Hermione glanced at him, startled, as her own broom stubbornly remained on the ground.
"When I blow my whistle, kick off hard from the ground," Madam Hooch continued. "Keep the broom steady, rise a few feet, lean forward slightly, then land vertically. Wait for my signal—three, two—"
But before she could finish, Neville shot into the air like a firework.
"Whoa!" Draco exclaimed, shielding his eyes as Neville rocketed upward, only to plummet moments later.
It happened so quickly that Harry barely had time to react. He instinctively extended his hand, casting a softening charm.
Though his magic slightly cushioned the fall, Neville still landed with a heavy thud.
"Broken wrist," Madam Hooch announced briskly, helping Neville to his feet. "I'll take him to the hospital wing. No one else is to fly in my absence—anyone caught will be expelled before they can say Quidditch!"
As soon as she left, Draco seized Neville's fallen Remembrall.
"Isn't this Longbottom's Remembrall?" he taunted. "Maybe if he squeezed it, he'd remember to land on his fat behind instead of his wrist."
"Give it back, Malfoy!" Harry snapped, stepping forward.
Draco smirked. "No, I think I'll hide it. Maybe the roof? That'll teach him."
Mounting his broom, Draco hovered mid-air.
"What's wrong, Potter? Can't reach me?" he jeered.
Without hesitation, Harry climbed onto a broomstick.
"Harry! No!" Hermione shouted. "Madam Hooch said—"
But Harry was already airborne, flying with an ease that stunned everyone.
"That's amazing," Seamus muttered, awestruck.
"Give it back, Malfoy," Harry demanded icily. "Or you'll regret it."
Draco tossed the Remembrall lazily in his hand. "Standing up for Longbottom? How noble."
Harry's anger flared. Between the frustration of his fruitless search and Draco's smug taunts, he was at his limit.
He pointed his wand at Draco, his voice low and dangerous.
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