The real Herry Potter

As the sun reached its zenith, casting long shadows over the grounds of Hogwarts, the students of the first year streamed back into the castle from their flying lesson. The air was filled with chatter about the exhilarating experience, punctuated by the occasional exclamation about Neville Longbottom's dramatic fall and Harry Potter's daring rescue.

Harry, Neville, Hermione, and a few others lingered by the Quidditch pitch. Blaise Zabini, Theodore Nott, Daphne Greengrass, and Tracey Davis, who had all watched the lesson with varying degrees of interest, gathered around. Harry, eager to test his theories and explore the intricacies of broomstick mechanics, had started a detailed inspection.

"I just want to see if I can find out what went wrong," Harry muttered, adjusting his grip on the Comet he was examining. He gently lifted off the ground, hovering a few feet above the grass before steering towards another broomstick. He switched between the various models that the students had used, taking quick but thorough notes.

The others watched in fascination as Harry performed a series of maneuvers with the broomsticks. Hermione, always curious and keen to learn, observed closely. Blaise and Theodore exchanged knowing looks, while Daphne and Tracey chatted among themselves, intrigued by Harry's unusual behavior.

Madam Hooch, who had been preparing to return the brooms to their storage, paused as she saw Harry's meticulous examination. She raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms, watching intently as Harry flew around the pitch.

Professor Minerva McGonagall, who had been making her way towards the castle, was drawn to the scene by the commotion. Her stern face softened as she saw Harry's determination. She approached Madam Hooch, who was visibly unsettled by the sight of the young Gryffindor darting between broomsticks.

"Professor Hooch, is everything alright?" McGonagall asked, her voice tinged with concern.

Madam Hooch shook her head slightly. "I'm afraid not, Professor McGonagall. Mr. Potter has taken it upon himself to inspect the brooms we used today. And from what I can see, he's found quite a few issues."

McGonagall's face became grave. "I see."

Harry landed back on the ground, his brow furrowed with concentration. He had just finished inspecting the last broomstick when he noticed the two professors watching him. He walked over, his expression serious but determined.

"Professor McGonagall, Madam Hooch," Harry began, "I've checked all the brooms, and it seems most of them have minor malfunctions. Some are worse than others. The one Neville used, for instance, had a serious issue that could have been very dangerous."

Madam Hooch's face fell. "We've been trying to get these brooms replaced for some time now, but the Board of Governors has been unresponsive. Hogwarts receives little funding outside the essentials like teacher salaries and basic maintenance. We've had to make do with what we have."

McGonagall sighed deeply, her gaze distant. "You must understand, Mr. Potter, that the Board of Governors is quite rigid in their approach to funding. They are reluctant to allocate more money for non-essential items, and since Hogwarts education is free for the students, they are very conservative with their budget. We even have a ghost teaching History of Magic because the governors refuse to spend more on hiring a proper instructor."

Harry listened, his heart sinking at the gravity of the situation. He could see the strain in McGonagall's eyes and the frustration in Madam Hooch's stance. It was clear that they were both deeply concerned about the safety of their students but were constrained by the limitations imposed on them.

"I understand," Harry said, his voice resolute. "But I can't just stand by and let this continue. The safety of the students is paramount. If the brooms are unsafe, then we need to do something about it."

McGonagall looked at him with a mix of gratitude and relief. "You're right, Mr. Potter. We need to address this issue, but it's not as simple as it sounds."

"I know," Harry replied. "But I have some influence. Perhaps I can use my position to bring more attention to this issue. Maybe I can convince the Board of Governors to act."

McGonagall's eyes widened slightly. "You'd be willing to do that?"

Harry nodded. "Yes. If it helps ensure that no other student has to go through what Neville did, then I'll do whatever it takes."

Madam Hooch stepped forward, her expression softening. "Mr. Potter, I want to thank you for your dedication. It's clear that you've got a genuine concern for your fellow students."

Harry shrugged modestly. "I just want everyone to be safe. Flying is supposed to be fun, not dangerous."

McGonagall smiled, a rare display of warmth. "You remind me so much of your parents, Mr. Potter. They would be very proud of you."

Harry's cheeks flushed slightly at the compliment. "Thank you, Professor McGonagall. That means a lot."

She nodded, her gaze reflecting a mix of admiration and hope. "I'll support your efforts in any way I can. If you're able to convince the governors, it will make a significant difference."

With that, McGonagall and Madam Hooch began to gather the remaining brooms and prepare for their departure. The students, who had watched the exchange with interest, began to disperse, their conversations shifting back to the normal buzz of Hogwarts life.

As the professors walked away, Harry turned to Neville, who had been watching the conversation with a mixture of relief and gratitude.

"Are you alright, Neville?" Harry asked, his tone concerned.

Neville nodded, though his face was still pale. "Yeah, thanks to you, Harry. I don't know what would have happened if you hadn't caught me."

"Don't mention it," Harry said with a reassuring smile. "Just glad you're okay."

Hermione, who had been silently observing, stepped forward. "That was incredible, Harry. I'm really proud of you for taking action."

"Thanks, Hermione," Harry replied. "It's important to do what we can to make things better."

The group began to walk towards the castle, the day's events settling into the routine of their lives. Harry's thoughts were already on the task ahead of him—finding a way to address the broomstick issue and ensure the safety of future students.

As Professor McGonagall approached, her expression was one of purpose. "Mr. Potter, if you would kindly follow me," she said, her tone leaving no room for argument.

Harry, curious and slightly apprehensive, exchanged a glance with Hermione before nodding and trailing behind McGonagall. The professor's brisk stride suggested that she had something significant in mind. They made their way through the castle's labyrinthine corridors, the stone walls seeming to whisper with the history of Hogwarts.

After a short walk, they arrived at the Charms classroom. McGonagall knocked lightly before entering. Inside, Professor Flitwick was busy arranging a selection of magical artifacts on his desk. His tiny frame bobbed with a hint of curiosity as he looked up.

"Ah, Professor McGonagall," Flitwick greeted with a welcoming smile, "to what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I need to borrow Mr. Wood from you," McGonagall said, her voice firm yet polite.

Flitwick's eyes widened slightly in understanding. "Mr. Wood? Certainly. Let me just—"

Before Flitwick could finish his sentence, a tall, lean boy with dark, tousled hair emerged from the back of the classroom. He looked to be in his sixth or seventh year, and his face was lit up with a mix of excitement and anticipation.

"Mr. Wood," McGonagall said, nodding towards the boy, "I have found you a seeker."

Wood's eyes fell on Harry, and his expression shifted from curiosity to sheer enthusiasm. "Harry Potter?" he exclaimed.

Harry nodded, slightly puzzled. "Yes, that's me."

Wood's excitement was palpable. "Wow! We've been in desperate need of a good seeker. You've flown before, haven't you?"

Harry nodded, feeling a mixture of pride and nervousness. "Yes, I've had some practice."

McGonagall's brow furrowed slightly, her expression one of mild confusion. "I was under the impression that you were living with your muggle relatives. Where did you learn to fly, Harry?"

Harry took a deep breath, knowing it was time to clarify his situation. "My godfather recently bought me a broomstick. He wanted me to experience the different performances of various broomsticks. I live with my godfather now."

McGonagall's expression softened with understanding. Though she was aware of Sirius Black's controversial past, she felt a sense of relief knowing Harry was in capable hands. She chose not to dwell on Sirius's legal issues, recognizing that Harry was safe and well-cared for.

"Well," McGonagall said, her tone brightening, "it seems we've made an excellent choice. You're familiar with Trudy, the broomstick you use for practice in flying class. I've heard that you've performed exceptionally well with it. Let's put your skills to the test. Wood, will you assist?"

Wood's grin widened as he eagerly agreed. "Of course! Harry, you can use my broomstick until we get you sorted with your own."

Harry's eyes sparkled with excitement. "Thank you, Wood. I actually have a Nimbus 2000 at home, so I'm used to high-performance brooms."

Wood's enthusiasm grew even more. "A Nimbus 2000? That's one of the best broomsticks available. We're definitely in luck!"

With that, Wood guided Harry to the Quidditch pitch. The vast expanse of the field stretched out before them, marked by vibrant colors and the towering goal hoops. The sight was awe-inspiring, and Harry felt a thrill of anticipation.

Wood took out a selection of niches from his bag and placed them at various points around the pitch. "There are seven snitches in total," he explained. "I want you to catch each one and return here as quickly as you can. Let's see what you're made of."

Harry mounted the broomstick, feeling its smooth, well-crafted surface beneath him. With a brief adjustment, he lifted off the ground. The Shooting Star responded effortlessly to his commands, and he soared into the sky, the wind rushing past his face.

The Quidditch pitch was alive with the rush of wind and the hum of the broomstick. Harry navigated the field with skill and precision, his body moving with fluid grace. The snitches, small and fast, were scattered across the pitch. Harry's eyes scanned the area, his focus unwavering.

As he approached the first snitch, he executed a series of daring maneuvers, twisting and turning with ease. The Nimbus 2000 performed flawlessly, its speed and agility matching Harry's skilled control. He reached out and grabbed the first snitch with practiced ease.

Wood and McGonagall watched from below, their eyes tracking Harry's movements with keen interest. McGonagall's usual stern demeanor had softened into one of admiration, while Wood's face was lit up with uncontainable excitement.

Harry continued his task, darting towards the next snitch. His speed increased, and his maneuvers became more intricate. The Shooting Star responded effortlessly, allowing Harry to execute high-speed turns and aerial acrobatics.

The Quidditch pitch echoed with the sound of Harry's flying, his movements a blur of precision and control. He caught each niche with remarkable skill, his performance exceeding both Wood's and McGonagall's expectations.

After 28 minutes of intense flying, Harry completed the course. He landed smoothly back at the designated spot, breathing heavily but with a satisfied smile. His performance had been nothing short of exceptional.

Wood approached Harry, his expression a mix of awe and excitement. "Wow, Harry! That was incredible. I don't think even Charlie Weasley could have pulled off those maneuvers as well as you did. And I had no idea my broomstick could travel that fast!"

Harry, still catching his breath, grinned. "Thanks, Wood. It was a great experience."

McGonagall stepped forward, her face reflecting pride and approval. "Well done, Mr. Potter. You've shown impressive skill and control. It's clear that you have a natural talent for Quidditch."

Harry's heart swelled with pride at the praise. "Thank you, Professor McGonagall. I'm excited about the opportunity."

Wood clapped Harry on the back, his enthusiasm evident. "Welcome to the Gryffindor Quidditch team, Harry. We're thrilled to have you. With your skills, we'll be a force to be reckoned with."

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a golden glow over the pitch, Harry felt a profound sense of accomplishment and belonging. His dreams of becoming a Quidditch player were coming true, and he was eager to embrace the challenges and adventures that lay ahead.

The day's events had unfolded in a way Harry could never have anticipated. From a daring rescue to a new opportunity, it had been a whirlwind of excitement and challenges. As he left the pitch with Wood and McGonagall, Harry felt a renewed sense of purpose and determination.

The night descended upon Hogwarts, and the castle was bathed in the soft glow of torchlight. Harry's mind buzzed with thoughts of the future, and he knew that the journey ahead would be filled with both triumphs and trials. But with newfound confidence and the support of those around him, he felt ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead.

As Harry made his way back to Gryffindor Tower, he glanced up at the star-filled sky, feeling a deep sense of gratitude and hope. The path to becoming a Quidditch star was just beginning, and he was eager to embrace the adventures and experiences that awaited him.