Flying Lesson
The next two weeks at Hogwarts passed in a blur for Sage. She was beginning to settle into the rhythm of classes, though she remained quiet, only speaking when directly asked by a teacher and always in a near-whisper. She felt most at ease during her library visits, the smell of old parchment and leather-bound tomes offering a semblance of safety she had never known. Daniel Granger had become her anchor, helping her learn to write and providing companionship that eased her anxiety, though Ron Weasley’s constant presence outside of the library made her skin crawl with discomfort.
Sage’s schedule was set: History of Magic and Herbology with Hufflepuff, where she was partnered with the gentle but shy Neville Longbottom—an arrangement that would last for five years. Potions and Transfiguration were shared with the Gryffindors, pairing her with the cold and sharp Draco Malfoy, who, despite his aloofness, proved to be competent and skilled, especially in Potions. Defence Against the Dark Arts and Charms were with Ravenclaw, where she was secretly delighted to be partnered with Daniel. His teasing and unfailing patience made her feel almost normal.
By the end of her second week, Friday morning dawned clear and bright—the day of their first flying lesson. While Daniel practically bounced with excitement, Sage’s stomach churned with anxiety. She had read every book she could find on flying but still felt unprepared.
The lesson started as expected, with Madam Hooch giving instructions. The students practiced getting their brooms to lift off the ground. Neville Longbottom’s nervous energy peaked, resulting in a tumble and a broken wrist. Madam Hooch hurried him to the hospital wing, leaving the rest of the class with strict instructions to remain grounded.
A tense silence settled over the field until Ron’s eyes caught the glint of Neville’s fallen Remembrall. He picked it up with a sneer. “Looks like Longbottom’s not going to remember much without this.”
Sage’s heart thudded in her chest as she saw Ron holding the delicate, glass sphere aloft. She took a deep breath, stepping forward despite the tremble in her limbs. “Please, give it back,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
Ron’s smirk widened as he mounted his broom and took off. “Come and take it, Potter,” he taunted.
The taunt struck a chord deep inside her. Sage felt a rush of defiance overpower her fear. Without thinking, she mounted her broom, and to the astonishment of everyone watching, she soared into the air, steady and sure.
Ron’s face fell as Sage approached. Panicking, he hurled the Remembrall away.
“No!” Sage shouted, shooting past him in a blur. She reached for the spinning sphere, unaware of the shocked gasps behind her.
Below, Draco and Daniel exchanged quick looks as they saw Ron’s broom start to tip, his grip faltering. Instinct took over, and both boys kicked off the ground in unison. They caught Ron’s flailing body just before he hit the ground, while Sage completed her dive, clutching the Remembrall tightly against her chest.
The silence that followed was shattered by Professor McGonagall’s sharp voice. “What is going on here?” Her eyes narrowed as she took in the scene: Ron held up by Draco and Daniel, Sage standing pale and shaking but still holding the Remembrall.
Minutes later, they found themselves in the Headmaster’s office, facing not only McGonagall but their respective Heads of House as well—Snape for Slytherin, Flitwick for Ravenclaw, and Professor Sprout for Hufflepuff. Sage stood frozen, clutching Daniel’s arm like a lifeline as the professors discussed their fate.
“Remarkable flying,” McGonagall finally said, her eyes softening as she looked at Sage. “You, Miss Potter, will be the new Seeker for Slytherin. And you two,” she continued, nodding at Daniel and Draco, “will play for Ravenclaw and Gryffindor.”
Sage’s heart stuttered. She didn’t know anything about Quidditch, she didn't think she could play. Daniel didn't know about the game but was thrilled all the same. As they walked out of the office, Draco started explaining about the game. Daniel getting more and more excited and Sage getting more and more uncertain and nervous. Draco caught her uncertain look and scoffed. “Come on,” he said, leading her and Daniel down a corridor. "Quidditch is in your blood Potter, you are born to play. We all are the youngest seeker in the century, they don't even allow the first years to bring broom, and we are getting a chance on the team, you should be proud.".
They arrived at the trophy room, and Draco pointed to two names engraved on golden plaques. “See. James Potter, Chaser. Lily Evans, Seeker.”
Sage was confused "What?"
Draco flapped his hand, "See, see, they were chasers and seekers for Gryffindor's quidditch team from 1973-1977, they were the best players. They never lost."
Sage was growing more confused "O...Ok, But, but how does it say I can play, I don't think I can. No, no I, I can't, I don't think I can play, I'll say no to Snape.. I'll..."
Draco and Daniel said together "They are your parents, of course you'll know how to play", a bit horrified.
Sage’s eyes widened, the confusion deepening. “My… parents?” She had never even known their names, much less their achievements.
Draco and Daniel stared at her in horror, realization dawning on them. Sage, the Girl Who Lived, had no idea who she truly was.
The revelation in the trophy room left Sage stunned, the echo of her own voice repeating, My parents? ricocheting through her mind. Draco’s eyes darted nervously between her and Daniel, who, for once, was rendered speechless.
“Didn’t you know?” Daniel’s voice was barely a whisper, as if speaking any louder might shatter the fragile moment. Sage shook her head slowly, her fingers still tracing the engraved names. The letters seemed to blur as tears welled up, but she blinked them away.
Draco shifted uncomfortably, his usual confidence replaced by an awkward tension. “James Potter was a brilliant Chaser. One of the best. And your mother, Lily Evans, she was legendary as a Seeker,” he said, almost begrudgingly, as if admitting it tasted bitter on his tongue.
Sage dropped her hand, feeling suddenly untethered. She stepped back, the room seeming too large, the silence pressing in. Her chest tightened as she realized that everything she had thought she knew—or rather, what little she had been told—was only fragments of a much bigger picture.
Daniel’s brow furrowed as he placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Sage, I’m sorry. I thought… everyone thought you knew.”
“I didn’t,” Sage said, her voice a trembling breath. For years, she had endured the cruel taunts of the Dursleys about her parents, their lives reduced to spiteful whispers and unfinished sentences. Now, standing in front of tangible proof that they had been more—more than victims, more than shadows—she felt an unfamiliar flicker of pride and sorrow mingled with confusion.
“Why didn’t anyone tell me?” she whispered to the air, but no one could answer.
The days that followed were a blur of activity. The announcement of Sage, Draco, and Daniel joining their respective house Quidditch teams spread like wildfire through the castle, sparking curiosity and whispers in every corridor. The older Slytherins eyed Sage with both admiration and skepticism; she was an enigma, the small girl with haunted eyes and untested talent.
Draco’s pride seemed to grow in tandem with his reputation as the new Gryffindor Seeker, a twist that amused some and infuriated others. Daniel, meanwhile, approached the new challenge with his typical excitement, eager to learn every aspect of the game and drag Sage along with him.
“We need to practice,” he insisted one afternoon, finding Sage in the library surrounded by stacks of Quidditch books and ancient scrolls on flying techniques.
Sage nodded, though her heart was heavy. The truth about her parents had unsettled her, leaving her both desperate for more answers and reluctant to face what those answers might mean. The unease carried into her interactions; she sat quieter than usual in classes and found herself watching her classmates more closely, trying to piece together what it meant to be part of this world that she still felt like an outsider to.
Their first practice as Seekers took place under a sky streaked with the orange and gold hues of early evening. The pitch was alive with the sound of beating wings and the shouts of teammates. Sage mounted her broom, the polished handle familiar under her touch. Despite the anxiety gnawing at her stomach, she pushed off and felt the rush of air whip past her face.
“Focus, Potter,” called Draco from across the pitch, a smirk lifting one corner of his mouth. It was less taunt and more challenge, a reminder that despite everything, she wasn’t alone. Daniel, flying smoothly nearby, shot her an encouraging grin before diving after a Bludger.
Sage took a deep breath, the memory of her parents’ names in the trophy room replaying in her mind like a mantra. She scanned the field, eyes narrowing, searching for the glint of gold that would mark the Snitch. For a brief moment, everything else fell away—the fear, the uncertainty, the weight of expectation—and she felt the ghost of a smile touch her lips as she soared higher, ready to chase her legacy.