The moment the grand doors to the Great Hall swung open, the noise hit like a tidal wave. The chatter, the clinking of plates, the warm, mouthwatering smell of food—it was Hogwarts at its finest. The students were practically vibrating with excitement, ready to dive into the feast. But just as they were about to make their move, Professor McGonagall's voice cut through the noise like a lightning bolt.
"Potter, Weasley, Bones, Abbott, Granger, Grey—if you'd come with me, please."
There was no mistaking that tone. It was the kind of voice that made you immediately check if your shoes were still on the right feet.
"Uh-oh," Harry muttered under his breath, exchanging a look with Jean. "What did we do now?"
Jean, who was still looking completely starstruck by the whole Hogwarts thing (seriously, her face looked like it had been dipped in wonder), looked at him and shrugged. "I don't know. But I'm pretty sure it's not going to be good. Should we run?"
"Not yet," Harry replied, "but we're getting close."
They followed McGonagall through a quieter corridor, and even though the sounds of the Great Hall faded, Harry could still hear the buzz of the place in his head. Being called by McGonagall was never a good sign. Maybe she was just in the mood for a chat about how much she loved cats. Probably not, though.
As they reached a more secluded part of the castle, McGonagall finally turned on them, all business. She didn't even bother looking at the empty suits of armor lining the hallway.
"I need to discuss your encounter with the Dementors on the train," she said, her voice flat, yet sharp as a quill. "From what I gather, it was… rather dramatic."
Harry took the lead, figuring he was the least likely to start laughing in her face. "So, yeah. Dementors. We were just minding our own business when they showed up. You know, the usual—the temperature drops like someone's cranked the AC to 'death march.' We all felt like we were about to fall into a black hole of despair. Fun stuff, really."
Jean nodded quickly, her long, golden hair swishing around her shoulders as she spoke up. "Yeah, it was like… everything good in the world just disappeared. I couldn't breathe. It was like the air had weight. I thought I was going to lose it."
Susan, ever the calm one, added, "It was terrifying. But I think we managed to keep ourselves together."
McGonagall's expression shifted ever so slightly, the tiniest flicker of concern in her eyes. For a second, she almost seemed human. But just for a second.
"Dementors aren't exactly on my list of favorite creatures," McGonagall said dryly. "I'll be speaking with the Headmaster about this incident. It's not typical for them to be on the train. It could be… a sign of something larger brewing."
"Well, that's comforting," Ron muttered, barely holding in his sarcasm. "What's next? A basilisk in the bathrooms?"
"You know," Harry said, leaning toward Ron, "I wouldn't be surprised."
McGonagall's eyes flicked to Jean, who looked like she was about to burst out of her skin with a mix of excitement and nerves. "Miss Grey," McGonagall said, turning to her, "you've yet to be sorted into a house. We need to take care of that before the Sorting Ceremony. It won't do to leave you hanging."
Jean's eyes sparkled. "Oh, right! I'm ready. Just… don't put me in Slytherin."
Harry blinked. "Wait, are you serious? You don't want to be in Slytherin?"
"Well, not if it's full of—" She paused and made a little 'no thank you' gesture with her hands. "No offense to anyone, but you know, snakes?"
"Just... don't mess with the hat," Harry said, trying to be helpful but coming off like he was giving unsolicited advice on a first date. "It's got a mind of its own."
McGonagall, who had absolutely no time for nonsense, shot Harry a look that could freeze lava. "You'll be fine, Miss Grey."
Then, with an almost imperceptible sigh, she turned to Hermione. "Miss Granger, I understand you have quite the workload this year. Professor Dumbledore and I will need to discuss your schedule. Please come by my office tomorrow morning."
Hermione's eyes lit up like someone had just handed her a stack of the best textbooks in the world. "Absolutely, Professor. I'll be there. Can't wait to get started."
McGonagall gave a rare, fleeting smile, which Harry could tell was the closest thing she'd get to "Oh, that's nice." "You've all had a rather eventful start to the term. Take care of yourselves. Mr. Potter, Miss Bones, Miss Grey—you're well-prepared for what lies ahead. Support each other."
"Got it," Harry said, grinning. "Thanks for the pep talk. We'll try not to get eaten by a basilisk on our way to dinner."
McGonagall gave him a look that said, I know you're joking, Potter, but you should still be worried about that.
"Good luck, Jean," Harry added, giving her a reassuring smile.
Jean's grin was as bright as the sun on a clear day. "Thanks, Harry. I'll catch up with you guys soon."
As Jean followed McGonagall down the hall, the group turned toward the Great Hall, where they could hear the buzz of students, the clinking of cutlery, and the sound of magic happening all around them. Ron, ever the optimist, grinned like a dog who'd just found a stick.
"Well, that was a blast. Dementors on the train, a Sorting Hat on Jean's head… What's next? A dragon in the Great Hall?"
"I think the dragon will wait," Harry said, half-laughing. "Right now, I'm just hoping the food is as good as everyone says."
"Yeah, and I hope they've got plenty of meat," Ron said, rubbing his stomach like a man who hadn't eaten in days.
"True," Hermione said, her mind already whirring with a thousand ideas. "I do hope the new ingredients for potions are better this year. Maybe I can get a few things started early."
Harry glanced back at Jean's retreating figure. Despite the whole "Dementors and Sorting" chaos, he couldn't shake the feeling that this year was going to be full of crazy moments. And maybe—just maybe—he'd get a little closer to figuring out whatever was going on with him and Jean.
"You know," Harry said, "it's just a hat. What could possibly go wrong?"
Jean's voice floated back to them, light and teasing. "Just a hat. Famous last words, right?"
And with that, they entered the Great Hall, ready for whatever madness the school year had in store.
—
The massive double doors of the Great Hall creaked open, and the noise hit Harry, Ron, and Hermione like a blast of warm air. Hundreds of students were chatting, laughing, and clinking their silverware. The buzz of excitement was contagious. Even Hermione, who was usually the picture of composure, had a slight bounce in her step as they made their way toward the Gryffindor table. But Jean, who had just arrived at Hogwarts, wasn't bouncing. She was nervous. And that was an understatement.
Professor McGonagall was leading her through the crowd with the kind of dignity that made people step aside without even realizing it. As they neared the front of the hall, where the ancient Sorting Hat sat on its stool like it had seen one too many first-years, Jean could feel every eye in the room shift toward her. This wasn't exactly how she'd imagined her first day at Hogwarts—mostly, she'd envisioned it being slightly less terrifying.
"Good evening, everyone," Professor McGonagall said, her voice slicing through the chatter. "Before we begin the sorting ceremony, we have the pleasure of welcoming a new transfer student to Hogwarts. Please join me in welcoming Jean Grey to our school."
Jean's heart skipped a beat. "Transfer student," she whispered to herself, as if saying it out loud might make it feel more real. She gave Harry a quick glance, and he winked at her from the Gryffindor table, his grin practically glowing. That was all the reassurance she needed to take another step forward.
She sat down on the stool with all the grace of a baby deer trying to figure out how legs work. The Sorting Hat, as if sensing her discomfort, plopped itself onto her head with the sort of enthusiasm you'd expect from a hat that had seen hundreds of kids sit through it.
The Hat took one look inside her mind, and Jean felt the familiar strange hum of its magic. It wasn't just looking for bravery or ambition—oh no, this was going to be interesting.
"Ahh, interesting indeed," the Sorting Hat's voice echoed in her mind, not exactly a whisper but not a full-on shout either. More like the sort of voice that was slightly too loud in a library. "A mind of great depth. An unusual combination of magic, yes, and—what's this?—mutant abilities? Fascinating! And what's this? A connection to the Phoenix Force? I haven't had a candidate like you in centuries. Well, well, well, let's see… where to put you?"
Jean's stomach twisted into knots, and she tried not to let her eyes dart around at the hundreds of staring students. That would just be awkward. She locked eyes with Harry again. He was pretending to be super interested in the enchanted ceiling, but Jean could see that he was watching her with a kind of hopeful excitement. She smirked, feeling a little more confident despite the way her knees were shaking.
The Hat hummed thoughtfully for a moment. "Bravery, certainly. But a fierce intelligence as well. A deep sense of justice. You're not quite a Slytherin, no… too kind-hearted for that. But, oh! I see you've got ambition too. You could easily fit into Gryffindor… but something tells me you might be one of those who makes your own path. Hmm… Well, I know where you belong. Better be…"
The whole hall seemed to hold its breath. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were on the edge of their seats, all leaning forward like they'd been turned into human projectors. Jean didn't dare breathe.
"Better be…" The Hat paused dramatically, then called out, "GRYFFINDOR!"
The hall erupted in applause. A few enthusiastic shouts rang out from the Gryffindor table—most notably from Harry, who was practically standing on the table, clapping like he'd just won the Wizarding World Cup. Ron was hooting, and Hermione was smiling so wide she looked like she'd won the house cup herself.
Jean hopped off the stool, her heart racing with exhilaration and the sweet thrill of belonging. As she walked toward her new table, she could feel the heat of a thousand eyes on her, but somehow, it didn't feel quite so terrifying anymore. She sat down next to Harry, who shot her a grin that was way too adorable for someone trying to be chill about things.
"Welcome to Gryffindor, Jean!" Harry said, his voice a little too loud, his smile a little too big.
"Thanks, Harry," she replied, her voice a bit shaky but filled with warmth. "I think I'm gonna like it here."
Ron, leaning in with his trademark mischievous grin, added, "You'll love it, Jean. Gryffindor's the best house. Everyone knows that. Plus, we have the best food." He paused, then added, "And, you know, heroic tendencies. We're kind of the underdog house in all the best ways."
Hermione, who'd been looking at Jean with curiosity, nodded. "I agree. You'll find this year full of surprises. It's going to be brilliant with you here."
Jean, who had just entered a room full of strangers, suddenly felt like she wasn't so alone. In fact, she was already starting to feel at home. She glanced around the table. Harry was watching her, his expression a bit too casual for someone who looked like they had a secret. Ron was already busy whispering about the upcoming Quidditch season, while Hermione had an excited glint in her eyes, no doubt planning their next adventure.
Jean looked back at Harry and smirked. "So, Gryffindor, huh? You know, I think I can handle it."
Harry's grin faltered for just a second before he nodded, but Jean could tell that his thoughts were elsewhere. Maybe he was thinking about something dangerous. Maybe he was thinking about how her mutant abilities could affect things. Or maybe, just maybe, he was thinking about how cool it was that someone like her was sitting right next to him.
The Sorting Hat had made its choice. And in that moment, Jean knew she had made hers, too. Gryffindor wasn't just a house. It was where she was going to make her mark.
—
The Great Hall was buzzing, a cacophony of chatter, the clinking of silverware, and the occasional loud, dramatic noise from Fred and George (who, unsurprisingly, were already making their mark on the first night back). You'd think after seven years of this, McGonagall would've become immune to the noise, but nope. She stood at the front of the room, looking every bit the stern Head of Gryffindor as she snapped her fingers.
Instant silence.
It was honestly a bit terrifying, like watching a lion train a pack of puppies to sit. But that was McGonagall. She had this way of controlling a room without raising her voice, which, frankly, was more impressive than any spell I'd ever seen.
"Thank you, Professor McGonagall," said a voice from the far side of the hall that could've only come from Dumbledore. He smiled benignly, as if they weren't about to witness the yearly Sorting Drama. McGonagall, ever the professional, ignored the old wizard and gestured to the giant doors at the back of the hall.
Then, in the way only McGonagall could, she swung open the doors with all the grandeur of a queen about to pass judgment. And just like that, the first-years began trickling in.
To be honest, it looked like a herd of confused baby sheep trying to navigate a maze of enchanted stone. The first years were adorably awkward in their oversized robes, eyes darting everywhere like they had no idea whether they'd walked into a castle or a dragon's lair (spoiler: it was both). There were a few nervous giggles, but most of them were too busy gawking at the enchanted ceiling, which was doing its usual thing—cloudy skies one minute, stars the next.
As they shuffled to the front, all I could think was, how did they even make it this far without fainting? A few of them looked like they'd just wandered in from some bizarre alternate dimension where wizardry didn't exist.
I was too distracted by my own thoughts to catch the Sorting Hat's initial creaking, but by the time it began its usual speech, I snapped back to attention.
"Another year at Hogwarts School,
Where ancient magic sets the rule.
In the heart of these enchanted walls,
Adventure and danger call."
The Sorting Hat's voice was loud and theatrical, and it was pretty clear this thing was having a blast with the whole sorting ceremony. I swear, if the Hat had hands, it would've been waving them around like a Broadway star trying to get a standing ovation.
"From four great houses, brave and true,
New challenges are coming for you," the Hat continued, pacing dramatically. I mean, it was definitely milking the moment. The first-years were on edge, some looking at the Hat like they were about to face their own personal version of a boss battle.
"Gryffindor's courage, bold and bright,
Hufflepuff's hard work, a steady light."
"Ravenclaw's smarts, sharp and clear,
Slytherin's ambition, knows no fear."
"But there's more afoot than house pride,
Change is coming, time to decide."
Okay, now I was curious. The Hat was usually cryptic, but this year? It was practically dripping with mystery. Even McGonagall, the least dramatic person in the entire room, was giving the Hat a slightly more intense stare.
"Mysterious powers on the rise,
New gifts that might surprise your eyes.
With these powers come trials intense,
Dark forces grow, thick and tense."
Wait—did the Hat just mention dark forces? My attention shifted. The students were muttering among themselves, exchanging nervous glances. I could practically hear the wheels turning in their heads: What kind of dark forces are we talking about here?
"A serpent's shadow, dark and cold,
Seeks to take a stranglehold.
Yet, not alone does darkness creep,
Others seek to sow and reap."
A chill swept through the room. Even the ghosts, who usually couldn't care less about anything, looked like they were second-guessing their decision to haunt Hogwarts.
"Sinister forces, unseen, unknown,
A fight for power, seeds are sown.
Yet in these halls, hope shines bright,
A future forged, a beacon of light."
I caught a glance at Jean—she was staring at the Hat like it had just announced a new season of The Mandalorian (that really caught her attention). "Is it just me, or is this starting to sound like one of those Lord of the Rings movies?" she whispered to me, her voice only loud enough for our row to hear.
Before I could respond, the Hat finished its cryptic speech with a flourish. It was like it had really gotten into the whole storytelling thing. The room fell into a heavy silence, the kind you get when everyone's wondering what's going to happen next—and also, I think, when they're a little freaked out.
Professor McGonagall didn't waste a second. "When I call your name," she said, her voice cutting through the tension, "you will come forward, put on the Sorting Hat, and be sorted into your houses."
There was a beat of silence. No one made a sound.
And then, one by one, the first-years began to step forward, their names being called out in the same old ritual. The Hat's silly rhymes were still ringing in my ears as the sorting ceremony started.
"Oliver Thorne!" McGonagall called out.
A skinny kid with hair that looked like it had never been properly combed stepped forward and sat on the stool, a nervous smile plastered on his face. The Sorting Hat hardly had a moment to touch his head before it cried out: "RAVENCLAW!"
The Ravenclaw table erupted into applause as Oliver shuffled off to join them, and the room settled back into its usual rhythm. But the whispers about the Hat's ominous words about mysterious powers and dark forces didn't stop.
As the sorting continued, I couldn't help but wonder just what kind of dark magic was on the rise. I mean, mysterious powers? Serpent's shadows? It sounded like we were going to be in for a year of way more than just homework and Quidditch.
I nudged Hermione, who was eyeing the sorting with intense concentration. "Do you think the Hat was just trying to make things dramatic, or are we really in for some trouble this year?"
She didn't even blink. "Honestly? After everything we've been through, I'm more worried about what's going on with the 'mysterious powers' part. The last time something like this happened, you ended up fighting a basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets."
I tried to suppress a grin. "Great, just what we needed. More deadly creatures."
But I wasn't kidding. Something big was coming, and this year, I had a feeling Hogwarts wouldn't be as safe as it seemed.
—
The Great Hall hummed with energy as students buzzed about, their excited chatter filling the air like the sound of a swarm of bees—each conversation its own little world, each voice competing to be heard over the next. The tables were brimming with eager faces, some familiar, some new, but all united in their shared anticipation for the year ahead. The enchanted ceiling overhead mirrored the clear night sky, dotted with stars like a cosmic scatter of glitter, and for a moment, everything seemed to hold its breath.
Harry, for one, was struggling to contain his excitement. Hogwarts was, in a word, magic—literally and figuratively. As the last few students were sorted into their respective houses, Harry couldn't help but glance around, marveling at the towering stone walls and the flickering candlelight that illuminated the vast hall. The place felt alive with history, its every corner soaked in the magic that pulsed through its walls.
At the staff table, Professor McGonagall looked every bit the picture of a stern but fair authority figure, her sharp eyes scanning the room as she sat with her usual composure. Beside her, Harry noticed a new face—Remus Lupin, the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. He looked slightly out of place, his tired eyes carrying a burden Harry couldn't quite place. Still, there was an air of warmth about him, a gentleness in his smile that stood in stark contrast to the usual stoic professors Hogwarts was known for.
But Harry's attention was soon diverted as Dumbledore rose from his seat, the movement graceful, like a conductor preparing to lead an orchestra. His robes shimmered in the candlelight, giving him an almost ethereal quality, and when he spoke, his voice rang out with a soothing confidence that made the entire hall fall silent in an instant.
"Welcome back, everyone!" Dumbledore's eyes twinkled with that mischievous gleam, as if he were in on a secret no one else knew, yet all were invited to share. "And a special welcome to our new students. I trust your time here will be both educational and enjoyable—though of course, the educational part might involve a bit of 'learning' in the most unexpected ways."
The students chuckled lightly, some eyeing their plates nervously. Harry could practically hear his stomach growling from across the room. Dumbledore paused, a knowing smile creeping across his face.
"Before we proceed to the feast, I do have a few announcements. First, I would like to introduce two new members of our esteemed staff." His eyes glinted as he motioned toward the professors seated at the table. "Please give a warm Hogwarts welcome to Professor Remus Lupin, who will be teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts this year."
A scattering of applause broke out, though Harry could sense the curious glances being exchanged. Everyone knew the rumors—Defense Against the Dark Arts had been cursed for years. No one ever stayed in the position for long, and Harry was eager to see if Lupin could break that streak.
Lupin gave a slight bow, his face showing gratitude, though the tiredness in his eyes spoke volumes. Harry could only imagine what he'd been through to get here.
"And of course," Dumbledore continued, his voice carrying a bit more gravitas, "Professor Rubeus Hagrid will be taking on the role of Care of Magical Creatures professor. We are all thrilled to have him back, even if he's a bit... larger than life, shall we say?"
A loud cheer erupted from the Gryffindor table, with a few claps from the other houses as well. Hagrid, who had been sitting quietly next to Professor McGonagall, stood up, his massive frame causing the entire hall to shake slightly as he waved a hand in appreciation. His face flushed an impressive shade of crimson, and his eyes misted over as the applause rumbled around him.
Harry clapped with the rest, smiling fondly at the giant man who had once been his caretaker. Hagrid deserved every bit of recognition. He was a loyal friend and, despite his unconventional methods, one of the most knowledgeable magical creatures experts Harry knew.
Dumbledore's expression shifted then, his usual twinkle dimming ever so slightly. "Now, on a more serious note," he said, his voice taking on a somber tone that sent a ripple of unease through the room. "Some of you may have already heard rumors—whispers in the halls and such—about a recent escape from Azkaban. A man by the name of Peter Pettigrew has managed to break free."
A stunned silence spread through the hall like wildfire. Harry felt his heart skip a beat, his mind racing. Pettigrew. The name struck him like a jolt of cold water, though Harry struggled to keep his expression neutral. Pettigrew was connected to his past in ways most students could never understand, and the idea of him being out there somewhere, free, unsettled Harry more than he cared to admit.
The murmurs began almost immediately, whispers passing like a game of telephone, students exchanging nervous glances, some looking downright frightened. Harry's eyes flicked to Ron and Hermione, who shared the same uneasy expression.
"As a result of this escape," Dumbledore continued, his voice now carrying an edge of authority, "the Ministry has seen fit to station Dementors around the perimeter of the school grounds. These Dementors are here for our protection and to ensure that Peter Pettigrew is swiftly captured and returned to Azkaban."
A cold shiver ran down everyone's spine as the word "Dementor" hung in the air like a heavy fog.
"I must warn you all," Dumbledore's voice took on a grave note, "that Dementors are not to be taken lightly. They are some of the foulest creatures to ever walk this earth. They drain peace, hope, and happiness from the air around them. Even Muggles can feel their presence, though they cannot see them."
The entire hall seemed to draw in a collective breath. Harry glanced around at the faces of his fellow students—most of them were as pale as ghosts, some visibly shaking. It was a fair reaction. The Dementors were terrifying creatures, capable of instilling despair so powerful it could bring even the bravest wizard to their knees.
"Remember," Dumbledore continued, his voice softening just a fraction, "do not wander the grounds without permission. The Dementors will not distinguish between one student and another. They will not listen to reason. Be cautious."
The gravity of the situation settled over the students like a thick cloak. Harry knew the year ahead would be fraught with challenges, but this—this was different. This felt like the beginning of something far bigger.
"And lastly," Dumbledore's voice lightened, the twinkle returning to his eyes, "I would like to remind you all of the wise words of the Sorting Hat tonight. We must remember that our greatest strength lies in unity. In times of difficulty, we must not allow our differences to divide us. We are all part of the same magical community."
With a grand flourish, he swept his arm toward the tables. "Now, enough of that. Let's enjoy the feast!"
At his command, the tables were laden with food—steaming roast chicken, piles of golden potatoes, and platters of vegetables piled high like they were ready for battle. The tension in the room melted away as students eagerly dug into their meals, talking and laughing as the atmosphere lightened once again.
But Harry couldn't shake the sense that there was something Dumbledore wasn't telling them—something about Pettigrew, something about the Dementors. But he'd have to wait to find out. For now, all he could do was eat and prepare himself for the unknowns of the coming year. The challenges ahead would be monumental, but he was ready. He had to be.
After all, he'd been through worse.
—
The Great Hall was alive with its usual hustle and bustle, filled with the hum of eager voices, the clinking of silverware, and the scent of roast chicken wafting through the air. The enchanted ceiling shimmered with stars, mirroring the night sky outside, while the long tables groaned under the weight of enough food to feed an entire village—because, well, Hogwarts.
Harry, Hermione, Jean, Ron, and the rest of the Gryffindor crew were seated at their usual spot, a small island of chaos amid the neat rows of students. Jean, who had spent most of the carriage ride gawking at the castle like a kid in a candy shop, was still wide-eyed. "I'm sorry, I keep staring," she admitted sheepishly, plucking a pumpkin pasty off her plate with enthusiasm. "But look at this place! It's like... I don't even know. I'm in a castle that teaches magic. This is the coolest thing I've ever seen."
Hermione, ever the calm voice of reason, nodded, her face softening with a smile that spoke volumes. "There's something about this place that makes everything feel a bit... magical. Every year it's the same, and every year it feels like a new adventure."
"Adventurous is one way to put it," Ron muttered, stabbing his fork into his shepherd's pie like it had wronged him in some way. "And every year, I'm pretty sure I gain at least five pounds from all this food."
Jean snorted, and Harry couldn't help but chuckle. "You'll burn it off running away from whatever trouble we get into this year."
Ron shot him a look. "Thanks, mate, for that vote of confidence." He paused. "I just hope whatever trouble we get into doesn't involve being eaten by some three-headed dog or fighting a basilisk again."
"Or nearly being killed by a cursed broomstick," Hermione added dryly, though she didn't sound at all serious. "We've had enough near-death experiences to last a lifetime."
Harry leaned toward Jean, his voice a little quieter, but his eyes glinting with mischief. "Hey, you mentioned loving flying, right? You ever thought about trying out for the Quidditch team?"
Jean froze, mid-bite, her eyes going wide like someone had just handed her a golden ticket. "Wait... really?" she said, her voice almost a whisper. "Quidditch? But I'm still getting the hang of flying again after—well, after... you know."
"After waking up the Phoenix Force inside you?" Harry grinned, knowing she'd get the joke. "Yeah, no big deal."
Jean rolled her eyes but smiled anyway. "I'm not sure I'm ready for Quidditch. I'm not exactly a broomstick expert. But hey, if you think I can do it..."
Ron swallowed a mouthful of pie with a loud gulp and wiped his mouth. "Oh, you'll be great! Don't worry about it. We need someone with actual talent on the team. Plus, it's not like the rest of us are professional Quidditch players."
"I dunno, I've seen you play before," Hermione said, half-grinning as she tossed a look at Ron. "If there's one thing you're good at, it's making the rest of us look better by comparison."
Ron gave her an exaggerated frown. "Thanks, Hermione. Really. That's exactly what I wanted to hear."
Jean let out a laugh, and Harry leaned in, his voice teasing. "Listen, flying on a broomstick is different from using your powers, but it's a lot of fun. We can practice together, and hey, you can borrow my Nimbus 2000. I've got a Firebolt now, so..."
Jean blinked, and her cheeks tinged pink. "Wait, are you serious? You're offering me your Nimbus?"
Harry shrugged, nonchalant. "Of course! I mean, it's just gathering dust in my broom closet. It's still a top-of-the-line broom. Can't let it go to waste, right?"
Before Jean could respond, Oliver Wood came charging over, his face lighting up like he'd just been told his broom was powered by jet fuel. "Did I hear that right?" he asked, practically bouncing with excitement. "You've got a Firebolt?"
Harry tried to keep his grin under control, but it wasn't working. "Yeah, Sirius gave it to me for my birthday."
Oliver's face practically glowed. "A Firebolt! That's the fastest broom in the world! With that, Gryffindor is guaranteed the Quidditch Cup this year!"
Harry chuckled, leaning back. "I hope so, but with your coaching, Oliver, we might actually stand a chance."
Oliver beamed, slapping Harry on the back a little too hard. "If we don't win this year, I'll blame it on you for not telling me about that Firebolt sooner." Then, after a thoughtful pause, he narrowed his eyes. "You know, we might need some extra players this year. With all the madness that happens around here, it might be good to have a backup or two ready."
"Great idea," Harry said, lowering his voice. "We could always use a few more players—especially since we don't know if the Triwizard Tournament might decide to show up and ruin everything."
Katie Bell, Alicia Spinnet, and Angelina Johnson, who had been pretending not to listen but were clearly hanging on every word, looked up eagerly. Katie raised an eyebrow. "Who do you have in mind, Harry?" she asked, her interest piqued.
Fred and George Weasley, who had somehow materialized out of nowhere, leaned in with matching grins. "Yeah, Harry," Fred said with a sly grin, "who's going to be our secret weapon this year?"
"And more importantly," George added, leaning even closer, "how do we get them to help us pull off the greatest prank Hogwarts has ever seen?"
Harry just shook his head, amused by the twins' perpetual state of plotting. "Well, for one, I was thinking Jean could try out. I'm pretty sure she'd be a great addition to the team."
Jean's face lit up, and she clapped her hands together. "You're sure? I mean, I'll totally try, but... I have no idea what I'm doing."
Fred and George exchanged a look that only they could understand, and then, in perfect unison, they said, "Welcome to the team, Jean."
"And remember," George added, his tone conspiratorial, "if you ever need help causing a little mayhem... we've got your back."
The whole table burst into laughter, and even Hermione couldn't hide her smile as she glanced over at Harry. She might've felt a little jealous, but more than anything, she was happy to see how much Jean was fitting in. It was moments like these, with the team all together, that made her feel like maybe, just maybe, the upcoming year wouldn't be so bad after all. And who knew? Maybe this year, they'd actually win the Quidditch Cup.
As the laughter faded, Harry leaned back in his seat, his eyes sparkling with excitement for the year ahead. After all, with a new Firebolt, a new Quidditch recruit, and the promise of adventures to come, what more could a guy ask for?
---
Hey fellow fanfic enthusiasts!
I hope you're enjoying the fanfiction so far! I'd love to hear your thoughts on it. Whether you loved it, hated it, or have some constructive criticism, your feedback is super important to me. Feel free to drop a comment or send me a message with your thoughts. Can't wait to hear from you!
If you're passionate about fanfiction and love discussing stories, characters, and plot twists, then you're in the right place! I've created a Discord server dedicated to diving deep into the world of fanfiction, especially my own stories. Whether you're a reader, a writer, or just someone who enjoys a good tale, I welcome you to join us for lively discussions, feedback sessions, and maybe even some sneak peeks into upcoming chapters, along with artwork related to the stories. Let's nerd out together over our favorite fandoms and explore the endless possibilities of storytelling!
Click the link below to join the conversation:
https://discord.com/invite/HHHwRsB6wd
Can't wait to see you there!
If you appreciate my work and want to support me, consider buying me a cup of coffee. Your support helps me keep writing and bringing more stories to you. You can do so via PayPal here:
https://www.paypal.me/VikrantUtekar007
Or through my Buy Me a Coffee page:
https://www.buymeacoffee.com/vikired001s
Thank you for your support!