Not hearing that his classmates were calling his name and Madam Hooch was shouting for him to come back, Harry fully concentrated on Neville. Somehow, he had to try to catch him in order to prevent the boy from crashing into the ground. He flew a little underneath him, adjusted his position slightly to the side and grasped Neville as he tumbled by so that he, Harry, could pull him onto his own broom. The impact was so great that Harry nearly lost the grip on his broom, and his ribs exploded in pain. However, somehow, he managed to get them both safely to the ground where he silently lay down.

“Harry, are you all right?” Neville asked anxiously.

“Yes, Neville,” Harry moaned, gritting his teeth. ‘Oh please, don’t let the rib be broken again,’ he thought frantically. Hadn’t he just escaped the Hospital Wing? Madam Hooch ordered the shocked Neville to fetch Madam Pomfrey and sent all students back into the castle – only Hermione, Ron, Draco, and Marcus Flint, the Slytherin Quidditch captain who had been secretly watching the whole lesson, remained.

“Potter,” he addressed Harry and – ignoring the fact that Harry didn’t even look up – continued, “We need a Seeker for our Quidditch team. Would you care to play Seeker for Slytherin?”

Harry wondered if he had heard wrongly. He – play – in the House team? Could that be true? Of course he would like that! Harry slightly turned his head and replied, “I would like that, of course. Flying was great; however, I don’t even know how to play Quidditch, and I thought first years would not be allowed to play in the House teams anyway.”

“I will talk to Professor Snape about it as soon as his next lesson is over,” the Quidditch captain promised and hurried into the castle.

Immediately after the last lesson of the day, three professors were sitting together in the Headmaster’s office for an urgent meeting Severus had summoned.

“I would like you to approve for Potter to play in the Slytherin House team,” Severus told his older colleagues.

“What?” Minerva countered appalled. “He is still a first year, and he belongs to Gryffindor as well.” She seemed to be outright shocked. Severus sneered and asked,

“Did the news about what your precious ‘Half-Gryffindor’ boy did today not reach your ears yet, Minerva?”

She shot an inquiring look at the Headmaster and replied, “I am sure you will inform us in an instant, Severus. Now stop fooling around and tell us what happened please,” she instructed her fellow teacher, and Severus told the two surprised teachers everything he knew about what had happened on the grounds a few hours ago.

Minerva groaned. “So Harry is in the Hospital Wing again?” Severus nodded solemnly and said,

“Yes, I just went there before coming here. The rib that was previously puncturing his lung was broken again, but Poppy must have healed it by now. She told me he would have to stay in the wing at least overnight and he would not be allowed to play Quidditch or even fly for at least two weeks.”

“Oh, my… All right, Severus, I will allow Harry to play seeker for Slytherin, but only under one condition: he has to play Seeker for Gryffindor too.” Her face had changed from a shocked expression to a mischievous grin.

“And in the Slytherin vs. Gryffindor match, he plays Seeker against himself?” Severus sneered.

“No, he won’t play at all. Both teams need to have a reserve Seeker, and the two reserve seekers will play in the respective match.”

“All right,” Albus dismissed them, his eyes twinkling with joy. “Please inform Harry and your team captains accordingly.”

Harry was released from the Hospital Wing on Sunday evening just in time for dinner, and as before he was told to come back every evening for a check-up.

He was glad that he had not missed too many lessons on Friday, and as his friends had stayed with him throughout the weekend, time had passed very quickly. When his Heads of House had visited him together on Thursday evening and told him that they had chosen him to play Seeker for both House teams, he had been flabbergasted. He had looked at them with a hint of panic in his eyes and thought, ‘Why are they so sure that I’ll be able to play well? I don’t even know how Quidditch is played!’ However, he didn’t voice his thoughts and only thanked the professors profoundly, vowing to himself to not disappoint them.

As he had to stay in Gryffindor on Sunday night, he decided to have dinner at the Slytherin table and sat down next to Draco.

“Congratulations, Harry, for joining our Quidditch team,” Blaise Zabini, another first year Slytherin, addressed Harry from the other side of the table.

“Thank you,” Harry said, feeling a little uncomfortable, and let out an unsure laugh. “You know, I have never played Quidditch nor even seen a match, and they just decide I would be able to play. Moreover, they want me to play in two House teams – what if both houses loose because of me?”

“That will not happen, Harry,” Hermione jumped into the conversation, and Harry nearly fell from his seat. He hadn’t noticed that Hermione, who had come to take Harry with her to Gryffindor tower, was standing behind him. “Come with me, Harry. I will show you the reason why I know it, as do the Professors.”

Harry stood up and followed her out of the Great Hall, happily noticing that Ron was waiting for him at the entrance door.

“Come on, you two,” Hermione said and led them to the Trophy Room and showed Harry a trophy with his father’s name on it. “Look, Harry. Your father, James Potter, played Chaser for Gryffindor. And come on, look over here: Your grandfather, Harold Potter, played Seeker for Gryffindor. You got it from them; you won’t fail in Quidditch.”

Harry stared at the trophies in awe. That was something his father had achieved – another hint about his father’s life, and his grandfathers as well. He suddenly felt very happy, thinking that he was not all alone, that maybe there could be more people here at Hogwarts who had known his parents.

Harry threw her a grateful look and said, “Thank you, Hermione, for showing this to me. I appreciate it very much. How did you know about it at all?”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Harry, you know that I read a lot. Have you ever read the book ‘Hogwarts - A History’?” she asked.

Harry shook his head. No, but he had heard about it, hadn’t he? And it sounded interesting. He should go to the library and get it. With a small glance at Ron, he inquired,

“Would you mind going to the library for a minute? I’d like to borrow the book to have something to read, as I have already finished the school books.”

Ron groaned. “Another person who would have been better sorted into Ravenclaw,” he teased Harry, who frantically shook his head.

“No, Ron, but I have never had access to as many books as I would have liked to read, and now I have the chance, which I’m very happy about. Besides, I don’t feel very well yet; therefore, I want to go to bed, but I need something to read, as I won’t be able to sleep so early. Enough of a reason for borrowing a book from the library?”

Hermione eyed him worriedly, noticing that he was obviously having difficulties breathing.

“Are you all right, Harry?” she asked her friend, calming down immediately when he replied,

“Of course I am. Do you think Pomfrey would have let me go otherwise?”

The book Harry had borrowed was so interesting that he just couldn’t stop reading and didn’t notice that he even fell asleep in a sitting position until his alarm clock went off in the morning. ‘Oh no,’ he groaned inwardly. How am I supposed to survive the lessons without enough sleep?

First, they had Transfiguration. Harry sat between Ron and Hermione, thinking about how funny it was that, twice a week, he sat on one side of the room between the two Gryffindors and, the other days of the week, he sat on the other side of the room between Draco and Blaise two other times during the week. He was the only one jumping from one side to the other every lesson.

Professor McGonagall brought a wooden box with her and handed each student a wooden cat.

“Please transfigure these wooden cats into plush cats. I know that it is very difficult, and you will probably have to practise for a while until you are able to do this. I do not care about the cat’s size and colour, just try to transfigure it.”

Harry was very excited. It only was his third Transfiguration lesson, and he hadn’t been able to practise anything while he had been in the Hospital Wing. During the two lessons he had attended the previous week, he didn’t have any problems, but this seemed to be more difficult.

Seeing that everyone took their wands and tried to transfigure the patient, brown cats into plush toys, Harry pulled his wand out of his robes. He pointed his wand to the cat, said the incantation, and before he noticed what had happened, a loud “miaow” could be heard from his desk, before a cute, black kitten jumped onto the floor. Harry sat there in horror and looked after the fast, moving animal. What had he done now? This was not supposed to happen – what had he done wrong? He was terrified until he noticed a cool hand on his own and heard Hermione say,

“Don’t get so upset, Harry, just breathe; everything will be all right.”

“Mr. Potter,” the stern Transfiguration professor addressed him, but Harry didn’t hear her. “Mr. Potter,” Minerva called him again, her voice sounding a little upset. Harry slowly came back to reality.

“I am sorry, Professor,” he said, trying to keep his voice as even as possible.

“Mr. Potter, please try to catch your cat and to transfigure it back in order to try the transfiguration we are practising today.”

“Yes, Professor,” Harry said and stood up to go after the tiny cat. However, the cat was very fast, and Harry could not run because he had had difficulties with his breathing since his accident the week before. He stood in the back of the class, leaning against the white wall of the classroom, thinking feverishly. He knew he had read a spell in one of the books he had borrowed from the library the week before, but what was the spell? He remembered that there had been a few spells he thought they might be useful, but… was it ‘Expelliamus’? No, that couldn’t be it. Maybe it was ‘Stupefy’.

He pointed his wand at the cat, which was just running around the teacher’s table and silently said “Stupefy.” The cat immediately fell to the ground as if it was dead, and Harry walked up to the front of the class with a horrified expression on his face. Tears were welling in his eyes when he thought about what he had done now, but Professor McGonagall picked the cat up before he could reach it, put it on Harry’s desk and said,

“Well done, Mr. Potter. Now try and transfigure the cat back into the wooden form.” To Harry’s great relief, his teacher didn’t look so upset anymore.

Harry sighed, calmed, and sat back on his chair, glancing at the cat. He wished that it was already back to its wooden form. He took his wand, and he had just prepared himself to say the incantation when he noticed that a wooden cat was sitting in front of him. He glared at the cat in shock, and when the teacher came over to commend him, he stared at her, confused. Was he hallucinating? How had this happened? Had he changed the cat back just by wishing it to go back, or had someone else transfigured his cat for him? He glanced around, but his friends were busy transfiguring their own cats. Only Hermione and Draco had succeeded in fulfilling the task so far.

He glanced at the cat again and tried to wish that it was a cute, black, plush cat with green eyes – the cat changed its outer appearance. Hermione gasped and whispered,

“How did you do that, Harry? Was that wandless magic? AND silent magic? I can’t understand how you could transfigure the cat!”

“Well done, Mr. Potter,” Professor McGonagall commended, before she – noticing Harry’s and Hermione’s shocked faces – asked, “Is something wrong?”

Harry slightly shook his head but couldn’t help the tears welling in his eyes again. Why did everything happen to him? Why did it always have to be him to be abnormal? He was so tired and could hardly keep his eyes open, especially as the wish magic had taken a lot of his magical energy.

Watching him worriedly, Hermione told the teacher, “He didn’t use his wand, and he didn’t say an incantation.”

Minerva frowned. Harry should be too old for accidental magic now, shouldn’t he? What else could an eleven-year-old be capable of without his wand? She would have to talk to Harry alone, later.

“Mr. Potter, please stay behind after the lesson,” she told the student and continued to walk around the classroom to watch the other students’ efforts.

Harry was gobsmacked. How could he explain to the teacher what he had done? What did she expect him to say? From far away he could hear Hermione’s voice.

“It’s all right, Harry. She only wants to help you.”

Fortunately, the lesson was over after five more minutes. Hermione, Ron, Draco, and Blaise waited at the door, while Harry approached Professor McGonagall.

The teacher turned to Harry’s friends and said sternly, “You are dismissed. I am sure that Mr. Potter will find his way to the dungeons on his own.”

Harry fidgeted under the eyes of the stern teacher. What was he supposed to say? He couldn’t even understand what happened.

“Harry…” Minerva pulled Harry out of his thoughts, “…can you tell me what happened today?”

Harry told her about his different transfiguration methods and about the spell he had read about in a book.

The professor thought for a few minutes and said finally, “Transfiguring things into living animals is much progressed magic. Here in Hogwarts it is subject of the sixth year’s classes. Moreover, the magic you used without your wand has to be wish magic, which is a very rare and powerful magic. However, I am not sure, and I would like you to show me exactly what you did. Can you come here to the classroom tonight after dinner, please?”

“Yes, of course, Professor,” Harry replied.

“One last question, and then you may go. Does Madam Pomfrey know that you have problems breathing when you run?”

Harry shrugged. “I don’t know, but she forbade me to run anyway.” He knew that his health was not good, but did everyone have to make such a fuss about it?

Minerva snorted and handed him a note for Professor Snape with who Harry had the next lesson. Finally Harry was dismissed and headed for the dungeons.

Harry arrived at the Potions classroom ten minutes late. Another five minutes were lost in front of the door of said classroom, as Harry had to summon all his courage in order to enter the classroom. Although Professor Snape so far had been very nice towards Harry, Harry knew very well how the teacher behaved towards the other Gryffindor students and others who disturbed his lessons. There was no question that Severus would not be pleased with Harry being late. Finally, he took a deep breathe and entered the classroom, feverishly thinking if he should hand over McGonagall’s message or try to sit down without attracting unnecessary attention. However, he could dismiss that thought immediately, because as soon as he entered the classroom, Professor Snape said,

“You are late, Potter. 10 points from Gryffindor.” Harry had to sit down as quickly as possible in order not to face the angry professor and possibly show his disappointment to the man. Therefore, he did not reply but sat down next to Hermione, who had reserved a seat for him.

Noticing that he wasn’t showing any reaction to what the teacher had said, Hermione stood up and stated, “Professor, Harry was asked by Professor McGonagall to remain after the lesson, and he even has a note from her for you. He couldn’t come here faster because…”

“Do you have to disturb my lesson again, Miss Granger?” Professor Snape sneered. “Another 10 points from Gryffindor.”

Ron jumped out of his seat and shouted, “That’s unfair! It was not Harry’s fault, and Hermione only explained…”

“30 points of Gryffindor and a detention with me tonight, Mr. Weasley,” the professor told him sharply. “Mr. Potter, are you going to work today, or did you only come to wait for the lesson to end?”

“Sorry, Professor,” Harry mumbled and tried to concentrate on the potion he had to brew. Fortunately, Hermione had been kind enough to get the ingredients for him, so that he could start to prepare them immediately. However, due to the shock that it had been for Harry to be treated like this by his so far favourite professor, Harry’s hands were shaking too much to work properly. It only took five minutes until he cut his finger. He helplessly tried to hide his finger, but Hermione’s gasp had already alerted the professor who was on his way to their table.

“Show me your finger, Potter,” he sneered, and Harry inwardly groaned but hesitantly held the bleeding finger out to the professor. Now Snape must think that he was a complete idiot. With a wave of the teacher’s wand the wound was healed.

Harry mumbled “Thank you” to the professor and resumed cutting the ingredients. If the teacher noticed his trembling hands, he didn’t say anything; however, he was watching Harry closely until the lesson ended. Fortunately, Harry was so well prepared for the lesson that he managed to brew the potion flawlessly. However, even as he – though very relieved – filled up his potion into a phial and put it on the teacher’s desk, he couldn’t yet relax. Severus’ behaviour had been too much a shock for him. As soon as they were dismissed, he went over to Draco, who shook his head, grinning at him.

“Draco, sorry to bother you, but could you come and wake me up in time for the afternoon lessons? I want to take a short nap in the meantime.” Noticing his friend’s questioning glance, he added, “I couldn’t sleep last night.”

Draco glared at him with a strange expression on his face but replied, “All right, Harry. You have Herbology too, right?” When Harry nodded he asked, “Do you need me to bring you something to eat?” Harry shook his head and left the room for the Slytherin dormitory, where he went to bed immediately in order to think for a moment without being disturbed. During the last weeks, Professor Snape had given him the impression that he cared about him – at least a little. How did his behaviour towards Harry during the last lesson fit into this? Had everything been a lie? Had the teacher only played with Harry’s emotions all the time? He didn’t know what to think anymore. Fortunately, he was so tired that he soon fell in a dreamless sleep.

To Harry’s great relief, the afternoon classes passed relatively normal, and Harry managed not to attract any attention. He slept through History of Magic, which helped him to be alert enough afterwards to sit in the common room with Hermione and Ron and finish all his homework until dinner time.

When he approached the Transfiguration classroom after dinner, he noticed, to his astonishment, that Professor McGonagall was not alone, but she had brought the Headmaster with her. He groaned inwardly. Was it necessary to attract even more attention?

“Good evening, Professors,” Harry greeted them.

“Hello, Harry,” Dumbledore answered. “I was told that you managed to show some extraordinary magic during your lesson today,” he continued. Harry shrugged and threw Professor McGonagall a questioning look. She opened the box, which was sitting on her desk and which held the wooden cats and handed a cat to Harry.

“Harry, sit down and try to transfigure this cat into a plush cat, once with your wand and once without, please,” she ordered the first year sharply. Noticing that his hands were trembling, she put a hand on his shoulder and said calmingly,

“Harry, you have nothing to fear. We only want to help you.”

Harry gave his Head of House a grateful smile, sat down and just wished for the cat to become a plush cat – black with green eyes – he thought. This time, he could feel the magic leaving his body, and he felt his magical energy drain. When he hesitantly looked up to the teachers, he saw that both of them were looking at him in awe.

Finally, Dumbledore started to speak. “Harry, I am impressed. You only wished the cat to be transfigured. Is that correct, my boy?”

Harry gave him a short nod and answered, “Yes sir.”

Albus and Minerva exchanged a glance and the Headmaster explained,

“Harry, you are a very powerful wizard. Wish magic is an extremely rare form of wandless magic, and wandless magic in itself is very extraordinary. I am able to do wandless magic as well, but I cannot do wish magic. I think Professor Snape is capable of some wandless magic too. However, it would be good to hide this wonderful power from others. You may, of course, talk to your friends and to your teachers about it, but this power might help you against future enemies. Therefore, I would advise you to use it carefully. For example, take your wand in your hand, before you use wish magic, and nobody will know.

‘Of course I will try to hide it,’ Harry thought, ‘It’s not as if I wanted to draw even more attention on myself.’

“Can you feel the magic when you use wish magic?” Minerva inquired.

“Yes,” Harry replied excitedly, “I just felt it for the first time. This morning I didn’t feel anything.”

“Very well,” Dumbledore said. “I assume that your magic is too strong to do normal spells when you use your wand; is that correct?”

Harry shrugged and pulled his wand, pointed it to the cat and spoke the incantation to transfigure it back. However, this time he was quicker. As soon as he heard the “Miaow”, he shouted “Stupefy,” and the cat collapsed on his desk. Albus chuckled, when Harry wished the cat back to wood and handed it over to Minerva, relieved that he was neither scolded nor laughed at by the professors.

“All right, Harry. Your wish magic works very well. However, I think we should train your wand magic a bit. You have to learn to control your magic in order to be able to use your wand in classes. I suggest that you make an appointment with Professor McGonagall and practise one evening a week. From time to time, I will join you as well.”

Harry was much too shocked to reply, but his Head of House suggested, “Harry, as you are staying in Gryffindor over the weekends, how about we set your lessons for Saturday or Sunday after dinner?”

Harry thought for a moment and replied, “Yes, Professor, that would be fine. Thank you very much.”

They agreed on Sunday evening, and Harry was dismissed. Before he left the room, Minerva stopped him and asked,

“Are you feeling well, Harry? You don’t look very well.”

Harry sighed and told his teacher that he felt drained after the use of wish magic, but otherwise, he was fine. He bade the teachers ‘good night’ and slowly returned to the dungeons.

He was just in front of the Portrait of Salazar when, suddenly, his scar exploded in pain.