Whole New Worlds: A Fanfiction Archive

At eleven o' clock, the bell went for first break. Everybody filed out of the classroom, discussing the lesson and their day ahead.

"That wasn't so bad," said Ron. "Didn't get any more homework, at least. Still, it would have been nice if he'd told us to conjure sweets or something."

"They can't be," said Hermione. "Only food that's necessary for life can be conjured. Luxuries like sweets have to be bought. That's why there aren't any wizard supermarkets."

"Still, it'd be nice," said Ron. "Talking of sweets, I hope the next Hogsmeade weekend comes soon. Apparently Zonkos have started selling Weasley's Wizard Wheezes stuff, so we could buy some Skiving Snackboxes for Harry."

Harry smiled weakly. The detention was still on his mind.

"Hey, come on," said Ron. "Cheer up. It's just a detention, right? And it's not like detention with Umbridge. Yeah, Snape's a bit evil, but at least he's not going to cut stuff into your skin."

Harry wasn't overly comforted by this. As Ron and Hermione headed for Gryffindor Common Room, he turned in the opposite direction and went down another corridor.

"Harry? Where are you going?" Hermione called.

"Owlery," he shouted back. "I'm going to see Hedwig. I won't be long."

The corridors to the owlery were full of students walking along happily and chatting. A group of girls Harry passed had just had their first Pure Arts lesson, and they all looked very pink in the face and giggly.

"He's just so dreamy," one of them gushed. "And he's so good at what he teaches. You should see all the stuff he can do."

"I've only got him on Thursday," said another, sadly. "Apparently there's one class that have him for three hours solid."

They all sighed dreamily, and then giggled. Harry didn't stick around to hear any more of their girly chatting. Ever since Cho, he'd not had much patience with girls, especially the way they hung around in gangs and would never admit that their friends were wrong. Or how jealous they got. Hermione was the only girl he was friends with, because she was so matter-of-fact, and she was never really interested in boys. The only time he'd ever seen her being even remotely girly was one day last year when she was telling Ginny about her letters from Viktor Krum, and even then, she wasn't giggling at all.

As he started to ascend the cold spiral stone steps to the owlery, Harry was aware of how much he valued Hermione's sensibility as a friend. Ron was fun to hang around with, and he was great when there was something you wanted to be distracted from, but there was something about Hermione's no-nonsense attitude that had probably kept him sane for the last six years.

He was about to open the door to the main room, reaching into his bag to find owl treats, when he heard voices inside that made him stop.

"So," Blaise Zabini's voice drawled. "What is it you wanted to tell us?"

The voice that replied was Malfoy's. He sounded as though he was trying to be confident, but deep down, he was terrified. Harry could hear a note of panic in his voice that he'd only heard there once before, when they were going into the Forbidden Forest in their first year.

"You... you all heard what happened over the summer."

"Yeah, yeah," said Blaise, impatiently. "Hurry up with it."

"And the manor was..." Malfoy audibly swallowed. "Seized."

"Is there a point to this?" Blaise said, exasperatedly, and Harry heard laughing from inside. He picked out a few of the voices, and then realised that the whole Slytherin Quidditch team, or what was left of it, was in there.

"Yeah," Malfoy said, quietly. "Look... everything was taken. Everything."

"If you're fishing for sympathy, Malfoy - "

"No, I'm not," said Malfoy. "It's... the brooms... they were included in 'everything'. They've been taken."

There was silence for a few grim moments. Harry could well imagine the Slytherin's faces. Their broomsticks were all paid for by Malfoy's father, and in the opinion of most of the school, the only reason that Slytherin had been doing so well at Quidditch for four years. Without them, the team was nothing.

"You serious?" said Blaise, and he sounded very, very dangerous.

"I couldn't do anything about it," said Malfoy, nervously. "I tried, honestly, but I couldn't. Just try to understand that to my mother and I, the brooms weren't exactly highest priority. And we're still a good team, no matter what brooms we've got... right?"

Harry heard footsteps as Blaise advanced slowly on Malfoy. "No, Malfoy. What I don't understand is why the hell you just used the word 'we'. There is no 'we', when you're concerned with us."

"What are you saying?" said Malfoy, and he sounded frightened now, so much that Harry felt scared himself. "I'm... I'm - "

"Off the team," said Blaise, and he laughed, loud and cold. There was a swish and a crack, a cry from Malfoy and next second, the door of the owlery burst open. Malfoy flew into the air from the force of Blaise's spell, the door slammed and the Slytherin collided with Harry, knocking him backwards. Harry yelled with surprise, clawing wildly at the air, desperate not to fall. The steps were stone and it was a long way to the bottom. He felt his fingers connect with something and he grabbed it, hard, narrowly avoiding tumbling to his probable death. Malfoy stumbled against him and then seized the rail Harry was holding, shaking.

For one moment, Harry stared directly into Draco's face. The other boy stared back, and Harry could almost have sworn he saw a flicker of gratitude in those solemn grey eyes.

But next second, it was gone. Malfoy's face contorted in a snarl and he pushed roughly past Harry, hurrying down the steps out of sight, his second-hand cloak blowing behind him like bat wings. Harry noticed him grab the locket around his neck, as though it was a comfort toy, and then he was gone.

Harry tried to calm his heartbeat, which was still racing from the adrenaline of nearly falling. After a few moments, he carried on up the owlery steps and went into the main room, keeping his head down. The Slytherins all glared at him, though said nothing. Blaise beckoned to them, with a vague, "Come on. Let's go see if Malfoy cracked his head open at the bottom." They all laughed and followed him out, leaving Harry alone in the owlery, thinking about what he just heard. It sounded as though Malfoy was now out of favour.

He could see why, in a way. Malfoy's major claim to fame was that he had a rich father, and now that his father was gone, as well as Crabbe and Goyle, his cronies had deserted him for Blaise. Even Pansy, who had clung to him like a leech last year. It was amazing how shallow Slytherins were.

And Malfoy hadn't seemed grateful at all, when Harry had just practically saved his life. On second thoughts, Harry could see why Malfoy wouldn't want to suck up to him. He'd lost a lot of dignity, and apparently, Malfoy's hatred and superiority over him, Harry, was the only thing he had anymore - even though it looked as though he was losing that. Malfoy hadn't said a word to him at all this year, and there had been plenty of opportunities for the Slytherin to sneer something scathing.

Maybe he doesn't have the strength anymore, Harry thought to himself, as he looked around the owlery for Hedwig.

He found her eventually, nestled between an eagle owl he knew belonged to one of the Ravenclaws, and a hawk that Harry had never seen before. It was a rather magnificent little bird, quite young, with silky copper feathers and proud, haughty eyes that surveyed him with a great deal of disdain. However, it let him stroke it while absent-mindedly feeding Hedwig her owl treats. As he ran his fingers over its sleek neck and onto its wings, he came across a tiny tag, worn on a little ring through the tip of its wing.

He studied the tag, which was gold, in the shape of a heart, and found a name. "Cupid?" The hawk ruffled its feathers and gave a short trill from its beak. He smiled. "I wonder who your owner is... you're a nice hawk..."

Hedwig gave a disgruntled snort. "And you're a lovely owl as well," he said, smiling, holding out his arm for her to hop on. She rested herself proudly on his shoulder and nipped his ear fondly, as he gave her another owl treat. Cupid the hawk trilled at him again, and so when Hedwig was distracted with something outside, he slipped the little bird a treat as well.

Footsteps were heard coming up the owlery, and then the door opened. Ron came in, looking out of breath. "What happened?"

Harry looked around at him, surprised. "When?"

"With Malfoy," he said.

Harry frowned. "Nothing. Why?"

"He's just staggered across the entrance hall, limping as though he's had his leg hacked off with a rusty carving knife," said Ron. "Snape found him and asked why he was limping, and he said something about the owlery and Harry Potter before Snape dragged him off."

Harry's eyes widened. "I didn't do anything to him," he said. "Honestly."

"I know you didn't, you prat, what happened?" said Ron, stepping in. "And what's with the hawk?"

Harry realised that Cupid was now sitting on his forearm happily, nibbling at the button on his shirt cuff. "I dunno, it just likes me. But I was just up here, when I heard Malfoy talking to the Quidditch team, and he said that the brooms had been taken. And Blaise Zabini got a bit annoyed and knocked Malfoy out through the door. I caught him before he fell... I guess he must have twisted his ankle or something."

"Yeah, maybe," said Ron, vaguely. "Come on, we've got to get to Transfiguration. Don't want Hermione and McGonagall to both give us an earful about the important of first lesson."

Harry nodded, and headed towards the door. Ron raised an eyebrow. "Oh, yeah," said Harry, grinning, remembering the birds. He placed them gently back on their perches, and said, "I'll come back and say hi at lunch", then left the owlery with Ron, hurrying to Transfiguration.

Transfiguration snailed by. In fact, there was indeed a snail on the window that Harry sat by, and he was astonished at the speed it was going compared to the lesson. Professor McGonagall talked, and talked and talked and talked until Harry thought she could talk no more, but she did. She discussed their OWL results, the NEWT tests, careers, the year of Transfiguration they just did and the one they were starting, the importance of Transfiguration in the real world... twice, Harry nearly fell asleep and Ron elbowed him just before his head hit the desk. Over all, when the bell went at the end of McGonagall's speeches, they were all very pleased and rushed out before she could give them homework.

Lunch wasn't overly exciting either. According to Hermione, "it's seafood risotta. And it's very nice, Ron, stop pulling that face." It was a sort of seafood stew with rice, and a nasty, chalky sort of sauce that Harry didn't like at all. Ron turned his nose up at it at first, but he still ate a whole plateful, and then polished off a good few scoops of Harry's. "Hungry, are you?" Hermione asked, with a raised eyebrow. Ron nodded vaguely, with a mouthful of prawns.

After lunch, Hermione went off to her Runes class and Ron headed across the grounds to Magical Creatures, leaving Harry to make his way up the stairs to the Pure Arts classroom.

Lavender Brown and Seamus Finningan were already there. Lavender was checking her nails delicately, occasionally sending nasty looks across the corridor at Pansy Parkinson, who stood with Blaise Zabini, wrapped simperingly around his arm. Blaise seemed quite unperturbed about this, too busy talking to the knot of Slytherins around him. Even though he couldn't explain why, Harry felt a sudden stab of dislike, something he hadn't felt since Malfoy had last spoken to him.

"Hey, Harry!"

He looked up as somebody called his name from down the corridor. Ernie Macmillan, the Hufflepuff prefect, waved to him as he and a large group of other Hufflepuffs came up the far stairs.

"Hi," said Harry.

Ernie smiled to him. "Hey, I heard about you and Ron. Congratulations. What's the actual link? Cousins?"

"Third cousins," said Harry. He suddenly had a vision of Hermione standing outside Runes and getting an inexplicable urge to yell, "Once removed!"

"Cool," said Ernie. "Oh, by the way, what's happening with the DA this Friday?"

Harry shrugged. "Haven't really thought abut it much. I'm planning to go to the library and find some books to get ideas from, but I still haven't talked to Lupin about it yet."

"He's helping you with it, right?"

Harry nodded, and opened his mouth to say something else, but Blaise's voice interrupted them from across the corridor. "What a shame we have to endure these lessons with the Hufflepuffs. I was quite looking forward to it."

"You're not Malfoy, you know," Hannah Abbot sneered at him.

"You're right, I'm not," said Blaise, in a mockingly pleasant voice. "I've still got a father, and I'm not wearing jumpers that smell like somebody died in them." His murky brown eyes flashed. "Knowing Malfoy, somebody probably did."

"That's not fair," said Hannah, disgusted. "That's not even funny."

Blaise smiled lazily. "I think it's hilarious."

"You're the only one who does then, aren't you?" said Ernie, glaring at him.

"I thought it was funny," Pansy said, cuddling closer to Blaise's arm and batting her eyes at him. "It's not our fault Hufflepuffs don't have a sense of humour."

Blaise snickered, and then he glanced at the Slytherins surrounding him. "Have you all seen what he's wearing around his neck? It's a locket with a strand of his dear dad's hair in it. How much sadder can you get?"

"I dunno, but you managed it," said Ernie, scathingly.

Blaise raised an eyebrow. He brushed Pansy aside, and then took a step towards Ernie, but perhaps luckily, Professor Alrister appeared at the end of the corridor, strolling briskly towards them. He was holding a huge cardboard box in his arms, full of what Harry first thought were large black spiders, until he took a closer look and realised they were fingerless gloves, much like the ones worn by Alrister himself.

"Go on in," he said, holding the door open with his spare hand. "Eight to a table, and you won't need to get anything out. I'm starting you straight out with a practical."

Intrigued, the class all filed quietly into the room. Harry joined Lavender and Seamus at a table with Ernie, Hannah and Justin Finch-Fletchley, who greeted him with a friendly smile. The class looked rather sparse, spread out all around the room, but as Harry reminded himself, more would be joining them after an hour.

Alrister dropped the box of gloves on the front desk. "Right then..." he said, turning around and addressing them all. "Welcome to your first ever Pure Arts lesson. You should know me by now, if any of you have forgotten, I'm Professor Alrister and I'll be teaching you. First things first, how are you all?"

There was a general murmur of 'fine' as Alrister pulled the box over, sorting through the handfuls of gloves.

"Good... now, can you all catch?" he asked, looking up.

Everybody glanced at each other rather worriedly, as though it was some kind of trick question. He smiled at their nervous expressions.

"I suppose I'll just have to find out then, won't I?" he said, amused, snapping his fingers.

They all gasped as the gloves flew upwards and outwards from the box in a great black cloud, as though they were bats. They fluttered across the class, handing themselves out to each student and falling neatly in the spare seats. Everybody looked very impressed, and Alrister smiled again.

"That wasn't so hard now, was it?"

Harry found himself smiling, even though he couldn't remember switching his expression. Alrister tugged his own gloves down, and moved to the middle of the room to look around at them all, his dark brown hair gleaming in the candlelight. At this angle, the amber glow washed smoothly over his tanned, youthful face, highlighting his prominent cheekbones marvellously.

"In this class, you will find that I teach in a rather different way to your other professors," he said, curtly, looking around in turn at every face. "I do not believe in copying notes, or textbooks without lots of pictures, or homework at all. If I wanted you to do these things, my subject would be Pure Arts Theory, and believe me, there isn't much theory to it. What happens is, raw magic is released at times of great emotion and it makes things happen. Wands can channel this magic into spells, though the human body can master the skill of channeling it. Which reminds me. I do not believe in wands either. In a duel, if your wand is broken or lost and you have no other methods of defence, you are screwed, to be blunt."

Harry grinned. It was hard to imagine Professor McGonagall or Snape being casual enough to use the term 'screwed' and not sound deeply sarcastic.

"But if you concentrate," Alrister continued, "and practice the Pure Arts with my teaching and assistance, you could stay alive when you would have previously died. The Pure Arts is not an easy thing to grasp straightaway, and many peple never learn to control raw magic completely - you either have great skill in this subject, or you do not. But I don't reward natural skill and the ability to do things straight off. In my classroom, all I could ever ask is that you try your best and never let your frustration get the better of you. At times, it might be tempting to stamp your feet and scream and cry, but it won't do you any good. In many times in our life, violence is far from the best weapon. For example, just to prove a point, somebody curse me."

They all stared at him, wondering whether he just said what they thought he said. He smiled, chuckling.

"Well?"

"We... we couldn't curse a professor," said Justin Finch-Fletchley, sounding aghast at the very thought.

Alrister smiled sideways, his roguish smirk, the one that brought a glimmer to his soft chestnut-coloured eyes. "My Ravenclaw fourth years this morning couldn't wait to set their wands on the new guy. Come now. I'll have to pick somebody if I have no volunteers, and I'll pick the person who looks most like they don't want to do it."

Harry glanced around, and seeing nobody come forward, he raised his hand tentatively. "I'll do it."

Alrister's face curled in a gratious smile. "Thankyou. Your name, please?"

"Harry... Harry Potter."

"Ah, of course," said Alrister. His eyes raked Harry's hairline for a moment. "I did wonder. Anyway. Go ahead, Mr Potter, I'll stand right here for you. Curse me. Anything you like, though preferably a curse and not a hex or a jinx. As for charms, I think I've already got far too many for my own bloody good, so we'll avoid those, please."

Lavender giggled, and Seamus smirked next to her.

"Um... okay," said Harry. He took his wand from his bag, and toyed with it for a moment, wondering what to use. He knew he'd never ever forgive himself if he killed Alrister in his first lesson, and neither would 95% of the school's girls either. He decided, raised his wand and cried, "Tarantallegra!" A bullet of yellow light bloomed from the end of his wand, and rushed towards Alrister, heading straight for his chest -

But when it got about half a metre from him, there was a metallic chink and the air around Alrister shivered, a hazy shield flickering into place and absorbing the spell completely. The professor chuckled as everybody burst into applause.

"You see?" he said. "If you can do that, you have a better chance for survival. Interestingly, if you left you wand at home and somehow ended up trapped somewhere with no food, unsure how many days it would take to be found, what would you do? Most of you would starve." He smirked, snapped his fingers and a sandwich blossomed from nowhere, falling neatly into his outstretched hand. He took a bite, licked his lips and looked thoughtful for a moment. "Too much mayonnaise. But that's not the point - what matters is that the Pure Arts, along with your charmswork and so forth, can be a great help to you. And we're going to start straight off. Everybody put your gloves on, and make sure they're on properly." He took another bite from his sandwich and then placed it on his desk for later, sitting down and surveying them all with a smile.

Justin Finch-Fletchley looked quite excited. "I think I like this subject."

"Me too," said Ernie. "I wouldn't mind being able to just snap my fingers and make a sandwich. Could do with one now actually."

"You should have eaten your seafood stuff," said Justin. "It was delicious."

"Oh no, it was awful," said Seamus, wrinkling his nose. "All powdery and weird. Never tasted anything so weird in my life."

Justin shrugged. "I thought it was rather tasty."

"Are you all ready?" said Alrister, halting the conversation. "Yes? Good. Now, you may well be wondering just why I have you wearing these rather odd gloves. The answer is that as horrible as they may be, they help control magic just a little more, and they also prevent any nasty accidents for first time learners. With any luck, we could have some of you moving things a little or maybe getting some morphing by the end of the lesson, but of course, my expectations aren't high. This is a difficult subject."

He cleared his throat, leaning against the desk behind him and crossing his ankles, his thick boots thunking off the floor.

"First things first. Who can tell me the most obvious cause of raw magic being summoned?"

A few hands went up. Alrister glanced around, and then pointed to Hannah with a smile. "I'm sorry, but I don't know any names, so you'll have to tell me. Yes?"

"H-Hannah, Professor," she said, smiling shyly. "And raw magic is made from strong emotions."

"Thankyou, Hannah. That is indeed correct, raw magic is created from strong emotions and when enough is created it has to go somewhere. Normally in the form of magic. Of course, some wizards prefer swearing or hitting something, but really, that's no way to resolve things now, is it?"

Hannah giggled and blushed. He smiled corteously to her, then turned back to the class, snapping his fingers. With a faint pop, a balloon appeared, floating mid-air in the middle of the room.

"Now... for an advanced wizard such as I, popping this balloon is easy." He waved his hand loosely at it, and it burst with a loud bang that made them all jump. "See? And by the end of the year I know you'll all be able to do that, one way or another, whether to set it on fire or make it vanish. Whatever." He snapped his fingers and a new one appeared with another quiet pop. "We'll be doing a lot of work on balloons, because it's easy to see any effects on them. I also happen to like balloons." His eyes sparkled in a smile. "In your table groups, you'll all be given a balloon and set to practice. Watch for any effects while your table mates are trying their best to cause some kind of harm to it, but first. You need to know how to do it. This isn't psychokinesis, and you can't do anything to it just by screwing up your eyes and giving yourself a headache. What will cause an effect is raw magic. Have you all got good memories?"

They all nodded vaguely.

"Good, because you'll need them," he said. "What you need to do is remember a time of your life when you felt a strong emotion. It might be happiness, excitement, fear, sadness. Perhaps even at your young ages love." He smiled. "Though let's not have anybody getting carried away. Relying on love as an emotion is a tricky business. Believe me."

The girls all giggled and blushed.

"Whilst you're all practicing, I'll call you up one at a time to try and do something to this one here," he said, and with a few snaps of his fingers, balloons appearing in each of the groups. "And I don't want to see any cheaters getting out pins, because I'll know. And keep your gloves on - they'll help you summons more magic and control it better. Let's try not to have any fires, please."

They all huddled around in their groups, and Alrister started to call up a few of the Ravenclaws on the other side of the room to teach them properly. Justin Finch-Fletchley looked to be brimming over with excitement. "Gosh, this sounds fun. Who wants to go first?"

"You can, if you want," said Harry, grinning. "Have you ever done any raw magic before?"

Justin chuckled. "Not yet, but I'll have a shot." He put the balloon in the middle of the table, and everybody sat back to watch as he thought of something, dwelling on the thought and holding his hand out. He was still for a moment, and then a single yellow spark hopped from his index finger to his thumb with a slight zipping noise. He smiled. "Here goes nothing." He sat forward on his elbows, watching the balloon closely, holding his fingers towards it. He looked deep in thought, entranced in whatever his memory was, and as hard as he was concentrating, nothing much was happened. The balloon moved a little, as though being breathed on. He sighed. "Oh well. How frustrating."

"Yeah," said Ernie. "Here, I'll have a go, but nobody laugh if I get it wrong. I've got a habit of blowing things up when I'm annoyed."

Harry sat back to watch, but before Ernie could do anything, Professor Alrister's voice called from across the classroom. "Mr Potter? Could I have you next please?"

He nodded, stood up and crossed over to Alrister at the front of the room. The professor smiled. "No pressure now Harry. Just find your memory, concentrate on it for a while and then think hard about the balloon. Just imagine batting it or blowing on it to move it, and stay calm. Okay?"

"Okay," said Harry. He glanced up at the hovering green balloon in front of him, keeping his breathing slow, flexing his fingers and then holding them out. He fished around for a memory in his head, something that conjured strong emotions... the scene of Uncle Vernon standing on his front door step, dripping in paint, looking horrified came to mind and he couldn't help but let out a quiet laugh.

Alrister smiled. "Good boy. Go on then."

Harry faced the balloon again. It was almost the same shade as the SuperSplatterDecorator 2003 paint. He swallowed, stretched out his fingers and thought hard, about the look on Uncle Vernon's face and just reaching out, batting the balloon gently. He felt his eyes glazing over as he thought, harder and harder, but nothing would happen. He frowned, his fingers shaking, willing something to happen, anything. Uncle Vernon, the paint snowman, staring from the step, frozen with shock... bat the balloon... nothing.

"Have you ever done raw magic before?" asked Alrister, standing up, crossing over to him and turning his hand over to study his wrist for some reason.

Harry nodded. "Quite a few times... I turned my teacher's wig blue, and I flew once, and I set a boa constrictor on my cousin... and I inflated my aunt... and lots more stuff."

Alrister frowned. "Odd. Something's repressing it. I think you've got a block... has anything stressing happened to you today?"

"Yeah... quite a few things," said Harry. "But it's just regular stuff."

"Anything in particular?" asked Alrister, glancing up at him.

"I... I got a detention off Snape," said Harry, vaguely. "And I had to catch Draco Malfoy when he fell down the owlery steps."

Alrister frowned again. "Malfoy... now where have I heard that name before... well. It sounds as though you're too tense, Harry. You need to relax and clear out your system. Normally, emotions like anger, sadness, et cetera, are marvellous raw magic sources, but frustration can produce a blockage. Try to clear your head. It's just a detention, and there's no need to think about Draco Malfoy. He's fine."

Harry closed his eyes, the better to relax. He concentrated on his breathing, imagining all his frustration floating gently away, and Alrister nodded.

"That's it... now think of something relaxing. Something interested you've seen in the last few days, a fresh memory. Tell me about it. So don't make it too personal. I might be all for friendliness between students and teachers, but I don't want to delve too deep into your private life."

Harry thought, idly, his mind landing on the little hawk in the owlery with the glossy copper feathers. "At break... there was a hawk in the owlery. Sitting with my owl, she's called Hedwig... and it had a little tag through it's wing, it said - "

"Cupid?" said Alrister.

Harry opened his eyes, nodding. "Yeah... how did you - "

Alrister smiled. "That's my hawk, Harry. Marvellous, isn't he?"

"Yeah," said Harry, returning the smile.

"Oh, he's a wonder to fly," said Alrister. "I go hunting with him occasionally. Just watching him soar across the sky... it's nearly as good as being on a broom. Very nearly. Do you ever fly?"

Harry nodded, thinking of Quidditch, a smile crossing his face. "Yeah, I'm a Seeker. It's one of the things I'm good at, it's - " But he cut off, jumping suddenly as his fingers sparked and gave him a quick zap.

Alrister chuckled. "Marvellous. That's got your block cleared nicely I think. Ready for another try?"

Harry grinned. "Yeah, okay."

"Good boy," said Alrister. "Now, concentrate as much as you can on flying, and moving the balloon. I think we've got some potential with you here, Harry, real potential. Ready?"

As Harry nodded, raised his hand and let his eyes focus back on the balloon swaying gently in front of him, he couldn't help but smile, realising he'd changed his mind. Mondays weren't bad really.

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