Diospyros

The change in expression Draco made when he saw Adrien entering the Great Hall was a bit intriguing, Harry supposed. The boy seemed to be a little constipated and a little scared, which gave him a very ugly expression. It was particularly strange for Malfoy to make an expression like that shortly after he had smiled smugly at the entire Slytherin table – which, if he was being honest, was also strange, but normal in the normal Malfoy contingent.

Adrien seemed to find Malfoy's discomfort amusing, if his smile was anything to go by. What have they been up to?

The owls took advantage of the moment to invade the Great Hall, throwing orders onto the recipients' plates. One particularly large flock was carrying a large rectangular package towards the Gryffindor table – it didn't seem as discreet as the sender seemed to think. At least from the disinterested look that Greengrass had when he saw the package falling in front of Adrien from 6 meters tall. The euphoric faces of Adrien and Ron didn't help matters much either.

They were leaving the Great Hall with the package when Crabbe and Goyle stepped in their way, with Malfoy taking the package from Adrien's hands. Harry didn't think it was too surprising.

— It’s a broom – Draco said slyly, a look of disgust creasing his nose. – You're going to be in trouble, Potter. First-years aren’t allowed to have brooms.

Was it remorse that Harry heard in Draco's voice?

— You're not fighting, boys, I hope – Prof. Flitwick suddenly appeared behind them, his squeaky voice questioning the commotion.

— Potter has been given a broom, Professor – said Draco quickly.

— I know — replied Professor Flitwick, giving Adrien a big smile. – Professor Minerva told me about the special circumstances, Potter. And what is the model?

— A Nimbus 2000, professor — Adrien informed, struggling not to laugh at the horrified expression on Draco's face. – And, to be honest, it was thanks to Draco here that I got the broom – he added.

Harry couldn’t say it wasn’t funny to see Malfoy have a small, silent mental breakdown.

***

Autumn settled over Hogwarts with a cozy chill, though Harry wasn't exactly happy about how cold the dungeons were now. Even the log fire burning all day every weekday wasn't enough to really cut through the chill in the common room. The dubious benefit of this was that it was much easier to sleep now.

October passed vaguely, fading away with each class, which seemed to get longer as the months passed. Professor McGonagall seemed inclined, after so many disastrous charms in her class, to stick to theoretical magic for the foreseeable future. Harry couldn't blame her for that. Professor Quirrell seemed inclined to that approach too, though admittedly it didn't make any difference.

Professor Flitwick, however, was not exactly influenced. He was not a strict person, but he was definitely lively. His class rhythm ended up being a hindrance to Harry's reading hours, which became increasingly occupied with essays, at the same time that wands were waved in any way in class.

On Halloween morning, amid the smell of pumpkins, Professor Flitwick announced that the students would start practicing Levitation Charms – although it was kind of pointless to say so at the moment, since the class that week was still only with the Gryffindors. So everyone went to their own schedule.

Defense Against the Dark Arts was, as usual, frustrating – at least as far as Harry was concerned. He was still wondering how a stutterer had managed to become a professor when he entered the Transfiguration classroom.

— Today we'll be testing your progress with the Theory of Inanimate Transfiguration – said Prof. McGonagall, as serious as ever, to the Slytherins as soon as everyone had taken their seats. – I hope you're turning these stones – she pointed to a small pile of pebbles on her desk. –, into buttons. They can be stone buttons, I don't mind. 

Then, with a wave of her wand, the stones floated away and each student received one for themselves. Pansy Parkinson's stone ended up falling on her head, which elicited giggles from some, a twitch from Professor McGonagall and a flushed, constipated face from Parkinson herself. Well, what to do with the pebble? 

Harry looked closely at the stone. It was misshapen, but at the same time seemed to be smooth on the surface. It wasn't too heavy or hot, and it was cement-colored and kind of greenish. It was hard, to be sure, but by no means very resistant, as Goyle proved when he accidentally squeezed the stone with his hand on the table.

— Claudere! – He recited, pointing at the stone with his wand.

The stone retracted, flattening out like a balloon. Then the sides rose up and swallowed the stone itself, forming a half-fluid, half-viscous mass that spread out over the table and then came together in another absorbing movement, forming a small, flattened cylinder. Four holes appeared in the middle of the cylinder as the fluid receded from them and formed a circle at the edges. Everything became cream-colored when all the fluid turned solid.

— This is the first time – Prof. McGonagall breathed next to Harry, scaring the hell out of him. –, in almost forty years at this school I've seen something like this. Mr. Potter, could you explain how your spell reacted like that?

Harry really didn't know what to say. So:

— Was it supposed to be different?

The professor gave him a look that was a mixture of incredulity, resignation and something that, if Harry was right, was a lot like affection. Interesting.

— It was supposed to be an automatic transfiguration, Mr. Potter. It could have followed an order, but it's still automatic. Apparently, you must have put a lot of force into the spell, since we can see a different process from the standard one. I expect an essay on button transfiguration in the next lesson, understand? – Harry nodded. – Good. Five points for Slytherin, for managing to completely transfigure the stone.

It was certainly going to be an experience to discover that the button would remain a button.

***

The flying lessons went down like a good icebreaker in the afternoon - even with the irony of the weather cracking the students' lips at any height above the ground. Apparently, he was the only one among Slytherin and Gryffindor who was willing to fly in the cold weather. Well, Adrien doesn't count as willing, since no weather bothers him when he's on a broomstick. It took a while before he realized something was wrong.

— MacDougal – Harry called his colleague, approaching him in the air. – Is anyone missing?

The boy took a moment to answer him, shaking his head to other students and frowning thoughtfully:

— I don't think Granger's here.

Harry was a little curious, although the girl's fear of flying could be a strong indication of why she wasn't in class, even after weeks of lessons. The answer turned out not to be very pleasant.

— I heard from Parvati – Pansy Parkinson gossiped in the evening, at the Halloween Party. – She was telling Lila that Granger had spent the afternoon in the bathroom. Crying.

— Why was that? – Tracy Davis asked, curious.

Pansy turned her head towards Harry, smiling mischievously.

— Adrien Potter called her annoying. – The girl made a strange sound in the depth of her throat. – And Ron Weasley said she didn't have any friends.

If she had expected Harry to be embarrassed, she was disappointed. However, if she had hoped to upset him, she had done very well. Before he could say anything to the girl, Professor Quirrell rushed into the hall, his turban askew on his head and terror on his face. Everyone watched as he approached Dumbledore's chair, leaned on the table and gasped:

— Troll... in the dungeons... I thought I should tell you.

Then he collapsed on the floor.

There was a commotion. It took several firecrackers exploding from the tip of Professor Dumbledore's wand for people to fall silent.

— Monitors – he said in a deep, resounding voice. –, take the students from your houses back to the dormitories, immediately!

Harry stared at the Headmaster with an expression that clearly indicated how surreal he thought that was.

— Come on, Potter! We have to go to the common room – Genma Farley was trying to chase him away with the other first-years.

— ...are you idiots? The Slytherin common room is in the dungeons.

That seemed to flow like ice down the Slytherin monitors' heads, which caused Harry's left eye to twitch. Genma went over to Snape, who was walking past Dumbledore to the exit, and the professor's bestified look made Harry's eye twitch again.

While Dumbledore seemed to be having a disconcerting discussion with the head of Slytherin, Harry noticed something. Hermione Granger was still in the girls' bathroom.

Looking back, running out wasn't exactly a very smart decision.

***

Adrien really wanted to hit himself for having offended Hermione Granger earlier. He knew he'd messed up, but he hadn't expected it to end up with him in a bathroom of girls running around in circles to get away from a troll with Ron and Hermione.

— Get down! – He shouted, seeing the mallet the size of a tree flying towards them, narrowly passing over their heads and destroying the bathroom sinks. – Run!

The troll may have been big, but he wasn't particularly intelligent. It couldn't speak better for them either. Running around the sink turned out to be the best plan to escape the attack of the creature, which apparently didn't know it was capable of making its way towards them. The pipes, bless them, were still in the way between them even after the sinks disappeared under the troll's hammer.

— What do we do, what do we do... – Ron was truly panicked, following Adrien's footsteps desperately as he pulled Hermione with him. – Adrien, do something!

— I'm trying!

— GRANGER!

The three Gryffindor boys stopped in mid-run, turning suddenly to see Harry appearing in the bathroom doorway. There was no time to realize that their survivalist race had come to a halt, as the troll reminded them of his presence with a roar and a frantic rush towards the new presence.

— HARRY! – Adrien shouted, scared, watching the creature run at his brother.

Harry instinctively drew his wand and shouted without thinking:

— Conjunctivitis!

The troll let out another roar, this time more like a scream, and put his hands up to his eyes, which reddened and swelled up horribly like his enormous pimples. His frantic run was not interrupted by the blow of the spell, perhaps due to the creature's own inertia or stupidity, which resulted in him running into a particularly hard-looking stone wall right in the face, knocking the creature over in pain.

— POTTER! – The voice of a furious Professor Minerva McGonagall rang out from the corridor. – What do you think you're doing, running from the hall? – Her voice died away as soon as she saw the troll rolling on the floor in pain.

“Incarcerous!”

Thick metal ropes appeared out of nowhere, binding the troll's arms, legs and limbs like immense silver snakes, tightening it to the point of immobility. The creature screamed, only to be hit by another of Professor McGonagall's spells, which left a bump on its head.

— What... happened... here! – Prof. McGonagall shouted controllably, more like choking. Adrien, Ron and Hermione thought it was time to leave the bathroom. – And you three! What were you thinking? – Professor Minerva had a repressed fury in her voice. – You're lucky you weren't killed. Why aren't you in the dormitory?

Harry couldn't help thinking that he hadn't been very bright in his frantic run, and he exchanged a glance with his brother and Ron, both of whom seemed to reflect the same emotion of strangeness.

— Please, Professor Minerva, they've come to find me.

— Miss Granger!

Hermione had finally managed to calm down enough.

— I went out looking for the troll because I thought I could fight it on my own. You know, I've read all about trolls.

Ron, who was uselessly holding his wand, dropped it. Hermione Granger, telling a blatant lie to a professor?

— If they hadn't found me, I'd be dead now. Ron helped me escape from the troll and Adrien distracted him so we could get away. Harry hit it in the eye with a spell and it hit a wall and fell. They didn't have time to call anyone. The troll was about to finish me off when they arrived.

The boys tried to pretend that the story was not new to them.

— Well... in that case... – said Professor Minerva, staring at the four of them –, Miss Granger, how silly of you to think of facing a mountain troll on your own!

Hermione lowered her head. Adrien had lost his voice. Hermione was the last person in the world who would disobey the rules, and there she was pretending to disobey them, to get them out of a jam. It was like Snape starting to hand out sweets.

— Hermione Granger, Gryffindor will lose five points for that – said Prof. Minerva. – I'm very disappointed. If you're not hurt, you'd better leave for Gryffindor tower. The students have just finished celebrating Halloween in their houses.

Hermione left.

Professor Minerva turned to the boys.

— Well, I still think you were lucky, but there aren't many first-year students who could take on a full-grown mountain troll. You each get five points. Professor Dumbledore will be informed. You can go now.

They left the bathroom quickly and didn't say a word until they reached the stairs. It was a relief to get away from the troll’s stench, not to mention the rest.

— We should have won by more than ten points – grumbled Ron.

The kick he received from Harry and Adrien remedied his bad mood.

***

The November cold bit into the students' bones uncomfortably, a thin layer of ice appearing every day on the floor and the vegetation around the castle turning gray. At any hour, the gamekeeper, Hagrid, could be seen defrosting brooms downstairs, wrapped in a moleskin coat, with rabbit gloves and huge beaver boots.

Classes on November 1st were canceled for all students, a period evidently set aside for the residents to take a break from the subject of the mountain troll. Unfortunately, some people ended up not being able to enjoy the day off.

On the second, the first Saturday of the month, the games of the tournament between the Hogwarts houses for the Quidditch Cup were to begin. Oliver Wood, the Gryffindor captain, pulled his limbs together for a last-minute training session so violent that when the players took the field they felt like their bones were vibrating.

— I want to see a fair game, boys – Madame Hooch, the match judge, announced when everyone was gathered around her. Harry noticed that she seemed to be speaking particularly to the Slytherin captain, Marcus Flint, a fifth year. He seemed to have some troll blood, if Harry was honest with his opinion.

Madam Hooch gave a loud blast on her silver whistle.

Fifteen broomsticks rose into the air. The start had been given.

“And the Quaffle was promptly batted away by Angelina Johnson of Gryffindor – what a great Chaser she is, and a pretty one, too.”

— JORDAN!

— Sorry, Professor.

The Weasley twins' friend, Lee Jordan, was broadcasting the match, closely watched by Professor Minerva.

“And she’s really playing at full strength, a lovely pass to Alicia Spinnet, a good find by Oliver Wood, last year she was in the reserves – back to Johnson and… no, Slytherin has the Quaffle, the Slytherin captain steals the Quaffle and runs off – Mark is flying like an eagle high above – he’s going to go… no, he’s stopped by a brilliant save from Gryffindor Keeper Oliver, and Gryffindor have the Quaffle – in the process Gryffindor Chaser Katie Bell dives around Mark and runs up the pitch and – OW – that must have hurt, she’s taken a Bludger to the back of the head – she’s lost the Quaffle to Slytherin – now Adrian Pucey runs towards goal but is blocked by a second Bludger – thrown by either Fred or George Weasley, it’s hard to tell which – in any case a good move by the Gryffindor Beater, and Johnson has the Quaffle again, the way is clear in front of her and off she goes – really flying – dodges a speeding bludger – the goals are in front of her – come on now, Angelina – keeper Bletchley dives – he doesn't arrive in time – POINT FOR GRYFFINDOR!”

The Gryffindor fans fill the cold air with roars, and the Slytherin fans with groans. Draco Malfoy in particular.

“Slytherin in possession of the Quaffle.” Lee Jordan continues narrating. “Chaser Pucey dodges two Bludgers, two Weasleys, Chaser Bell and flies towards – wait a minute – is that the Snitch?”

There was a murmur from the fans when they saw Adrian Pucey drop his sip, too busy peering over his shoulder at the golden flash that had passed his left ear. 

Harry saw it. A small golden trail in the air, cutting through space like a small golden star with wings. Slytherin's seeker, Terence Higgs, had seen the pommel too, along with his brother. Headlong, they rushed towards the pommel – all the Chasers seemed to have forgotten what they were supposed to do, they stopped in mid-air to watch. 

Adrien was faster than Terence – he was watching the little round ball, its wings flapping, shooting upwards - he was faster... 

— Ohhh! – A roar of anger erupted from the Gryffindor crowd below. Marks Flint had blocked Adrien on purpose and the boy's broom lost its way, Adrien held on to keep from falling. 

— Foul! – shouted the Gryffindor crowd. 

Madame Hooch turned to Marks in annoyance and then gave Gryffindor a free throw in front of the goal posts. But in the confusion, of course, the Golden Snitch had disappeared from view again. Harry narrowed his eyes. 

In the stands, Dean Thomas was shouting: 

— Get off him, judge! Red card! 

— This isn't soccer, Dean – reminded Ron. – You can't eject a player from the pitch in Quidditch, and what's a red card? 

Lee Jordan was having a hard time remaining neutral. 

“So – after that obvious and disgusting dishonesty...” 

— Jordan! – scolded Professor Minerva.

“I mean, after that clear and revolting foul...”

— Jordan, I'm warning you...

“All right, all right. Mark almost killed the Gryffindor catcher, which can happen to anyone, I'm sure, so a penalty in Gryffindor's favor, Spinnet takes it, out, no problem, and we continue the game, Gryffindor still in possession of the ball.”

It was when Adrien dodged another bludger, which passed dangerously close to his head, that it happened. His broom took a dangerous and sudden turn. For a split second, he thought he was going to fall. He gripped the broom tightly with both hands and knees. He had never felt anything like it before.

It happened again. It was as if the broom was trying to knock him over. But a Nimbus 2000 didn't suddenly decide to knock down its rider. Adrien tried to turn back towards the Gryffindor beacons; he intended to warn Oliver to ask for time - and then he realized that the broom had gotten out of control. He couldn't turn it. He couldn't steer it. It zigzagged through the air and occasionally made sudden movements that almost knocked him off balance.

Lee was still commenting.

“Slytherin still in possession – Marks with the goal – past Spinnet – past Bell – hit hard in the face by a bullet, I hope he broke his nose – it's a joke, professor – Slytherin scores – oh, no...”

The Slytherin crowd cheered. No one seemed to have noticed that Adrien's broom was behaving strangely. It was slowly carrying him higher and higher, away from the game, swerving and bucking along the way.

— I don't know what Adrien thinks he's doing – muttered Hagrid loudly, the gamekeeper somewhere to his right, in the Gryffindor crowd. And he peered through his binoculars. – If I didn't know better, I'd say he'd lost control of his broom... but that can't be...

Suddenly, people in all the stands were pointing at Adrien in the air. His broom had started to toss back and forth, and he could barely hold on.

Then the crowd screamed. The broom had swerved violently and Adrien had dismounted. He was now dangling, holding on with just one hand.

Harry pulled out his wand, pointing it at his brother.

— Finito!

The broom stopped abruptly, losing its buoyancy and falling through the air next to Adrien. The Gryffindor screamed in fright and Daphne Greengrass and Tracy Davis, who were standing next to him, gave him horrified looks. Somewhere, he could identify a collective gasp as Adrien jumped on his broom in mid-air and flew off again.

— Neville, look! – shouted Ron, pulling Neville's hands away from the boy's eyes.

Adrien was flying fast back to the ground when the crowd saw him put his hand to his mouth as if he was going to vomit – he landed in the cat field – he coughed – and something golden fell into his hand.

— I caught the Snitch! – he shouted, showing him high up, and the game ended in complete confusion.

— He didn't catch the snitch, he almost swallowed it — Flint was still ranting twenty minutes later, but it didn't make any difference, Adrien hadn't broken any rules and Lee Jordan was still happily shouting the result: Gryffindor had won by one hundred and seventy points to sixty.

Harry watched his brother follow the gamekeeper back to his cabin with Ron and Hermione Granger, perhaps to celebrate together. He simply ignored it, resigning himself to dealing with Slytherin’s bad mood (particularly the boys) for the rest of the day.