Mother Magic and the Philosopher's stone

Chapter Twelve

Harry struggled to keep up with Madam Hooch's quick pace, her long strides being three of his own. He wasn't sure where he was going- was he in trouble? He knew it was a dangerous move but honestly, he wasn't thinking, he just wanted to protect his friend. His heart lurched into his throat at the prospect of being kicked out in his first week. How could he face Lady Magic after that? She'd surely be disappointed in him.

It took a few moments but suddenly Harry recognised where he was going, it was the way to the Ravenclaw tower. Was she taking him to grab his bags? Making a show of kicking him out? Her face was an unreadable mask, amber eyes looking forward, never back at him. Instead of going straight to the top however, the Quidditch instructor stopped halfway to the common room, and knocked on a slightly off-coloured stone brick in the side of the tower. It seemed to shimmer slightly, small swirls of blue magic sparking outwards before fading away. And then, where the stone was, there was a door.

The door opened with a small squeak, and inside was professor Flitwick, the head of house. 'Rolanda! Come in, come in, and you have- Mr Potter with you?' He ushered them inside, offering them a cup of tea. The charms professor's office was small and round, though clearly had a few undetectable extensions on it due to the size of the tower compared to the office. The windows that should be looking out onto the Hogwarts grounds seemed to be looking out on a tropical beach somewhere nice and sunny. Immediately Harry wanted to be able to use that on the windows in his bedroom. Flitwick gestured for them to sit down, conjuring two small round stools with bright blue cushions on them, before almost skipping round to the other side of his desk. It was littered with paperwork, two sheets of which seemed to be a cat and a dog teasing each other.

'Fillius,' The white-haired woman started, 'Mr Potter here is an exceptional flyer, we might just have a shot at winning the cup this year if you give him permission to play.' That was definitely not where Harry thought the conversation was going at all. He expected to be yelled at, perhaps hit, and strung up from the ankles in the dungeons like Filch always muttered about. He wasn't going to be punished for such a dangerous move?

'Really?' The charms professor seemed to jump up in his seat, eyes bright with excitement. 'You really think so? We haven't won since you played chaser back in '78!'

'I do.' She turned to the boy, somewhat forgotten in the surprise of the proposal. 'Mr Potter, have you ever played Quidditch before?' He shook his head.

'Ridden a broom before?!' He shook his head again. She bit back a gasp in surprise. 'All natural talent then, just like his father.' The boy bit back a question about his father. Sometimes he still felt a pang of longing for them. He had never talked about them before.

'Mr Potter!' Flitwick clapped his hands, laughing all over himself like he had just received a tickling charm to the behind. 'Would you like to play Seeker for the Ravenclaw Quidditch team?'

Seeker- something that was his. But he was also a first year, they weren't allowed to play- surely?

'But sir,' he started, 'I'm just a first year- I'm not allowed to play.' The professor waved off his concern,

'Poppycock- That rule is in play for the safety of first years, there are sometimes exceptions made for brilliant players like you. Youngest Seeker in a century, you'll be.' The raven-haired boy, now youngest seeker in a century smiled wide.

'I'd really love to sir.' Flitwick, if it was even possible, smiled wider than before. Harry sipped his tea politely, noting the overall too-sweet taste.

'I'll send a message to Mr. Davies immediately. I'm sure you'll do Ravenclaw proud Mr. Potter.' And with that they were waved out of the office, leaving behind the smaller gentleman merrily writing out a missive, and scolding the paper cat for biting the dog (who happened to be the minutes to the last prefect meeting).