Hogwarts: Through the Veil of Time

A wonderful Saturday morning began with a warm-up and a shower. To my delight, I noticed that the constant scalable load from the bracelet stopped weighing on both my body and mind - adaptation is the key to everything! Returning to the room and looking at the guys who were butting pillows, I did not wake them up - a legitimate day off. But Cedric asked me to come to the Quidditch pitch, which meant I should hurry. It's not that I wanted to communicate with the current prefect so much, but his support and help are obviously useful, which means I shouldn't neglect it.

Gathering the dew from the grass by the castle walls with my boots, I walked briskly to the large and slightly awkward stadium. Walking between the stands, I came out onto the field itself. It was really large, probably bigger than a football field. Instead of goals, tall stakes stuck out of the ground, three on each side. At the ends of the stakes were rings of different sizes and at different heights, but quite close to each other. Five guys from our faculty were standing on the grass of this stadium. They were holding brooms in their hands, and another one was lying nearby on the ground, next to a large oblong suitcase.

"Hi, guys," I waved to them, coming closer.

Cedric, as always, smiled and waved back. The others smiled too, but not out of joy, but out of politeness. But at least they were sincere.

"Hey, Hector," Cedric beckoned. "Come on, let's dive right in. Stand on the left side of the broom."

"Without preamble?" I smiled in response, standing in the indicated place next to a broom that was not the newest, but clearly well-groomed and felt pleasant in a magical sense.

"No words, books or instructions can replace real practice. If anything, we'll cover you."

"Of course," nodded a senior student, still unknown to me.

" Okay. What to do?"

"Stretch your right hand over the broom, direct your thoughts to it and say: "Up!"

"Okay…" I extended my hand, directed the thought and image, immediately commanding: "Up!"

The broom instantly jumped into my hand.

"Excellent, Hector! Just excellent!" Cedric praised me, clapping me on the shoulder. "Sit down."

"Um..."

" I know about your worries. It won't crush you - everything is thought out."

"Ha-ha-ha," the others laughed heartily, and I straddled the broom, throwing my leg over it as if I were riding a bike.

"Excellent. The right hand is on the shaft in front, the left hand is in a comfortable position between the place of the right grip and the body."

Grabbed where it was convenient.

"Not bad," the elder nodded. "Now just push off the ground gently, thinking about how you'll hang above the ground."

— Mind control?

"Yes," several of the five answered at once, but it was Cedric who continued the explanation. "Usually they start training by hammering in basic movements and say that they are the ones that control the broom. But that's not true."

"I see," I nodded. "The control is mental, and the movements contribute to the necessary thoughts in the head."

"You get it right away," the brown-haired man approached me. "Malcolm Preece, sixth year. No wonder they say at the faculty that you're damn talented."

"Don't praise me too soon," I grinned and shook Pris's hand. "Hector Granger."

"Less chatter, more flying," Cedric slapped me on the shoulder once again. "Come on."

Without thinking twice, I pushed off the ground with my feet and hung in the air. Almost instantly getting used to the sensations, I mentally moved the broom back and forth. It works - it flies. A bouquet of images literally blossomed in my head of how I sit down in the dark cockpit of a void fighter, connect the neural interface, and the world around me immediately blossoms, transforms, blossoming with the lights of a battleship's launch silo. Ahead is only a small black spot with small dots of distant stars. The fighter feels like my own body. A signal from the dispatcher, and together with the electromagnetic catapult, I activate the accelerators, flying out of the silo towards the cold emptiness of space. Soundless explosions blossom like bright dots - a battle is underway. Only the roar of blood and the beating of the heart are heard - the equipment works silently.

The memories have left me, but I am already flying, pressed against the shaft. The headwind hits my face. I make a turn, cobra, somersault, dive - acceleration. Exiting the dive near the ground - excellent! The broom is controlled in the same way as a voidwalker in space - it doesn't care about gravity! Accelerators, cruise, maneuvering, but all of similar power - only the suddenly revealed experience of a real ace who lived to old age and found peace in battle allowed me to maneuver incredibly clearly, deftly and quickly. This same experience allowed me to feel the surrounding space, the wind flows and other guys on brooms as if I myself were a part of this space. Although, that's how it is.

Having flown through the basic set of exercises, I settled down and returned to the ground, braking the broom vertically and immediately jumping off it. It seems that a couple of fragments of people from the era of space expansion turned out to be not so useless. Yes, consumers are terrible, there is no knowledge, but the specialized skills of a lifelong occupation are divine!

- You, Morgana take me, unbearded! - the guys crowded around me with shock and smiles. - We didn't even have time to peep, and you're already showing off aerobatics?

"You could have crashed," Cedric hid his smile as best he could and even shook his head.

"It seems so," I smiled back. "Flying is my thing."

" Yeah, right. And Transfiguration, huh?" - the prefect stopped hiding his smile. "Come on, you know what? Malcolm, take the Quaffle."

"Yes?"

" Yes. And you, Herbert, stand at the gate."

"What are you thinking?" I asked the guys with obvious suspicion.

"A hunter test!" Cedric slapped me on the shoulder, and from his look I knew I was in trouble.

Four hours was how long I ended up spending in the sky on my broom. They explained the rules of Quidditch to me, explained the nature of the role I was being tested for. In the end, Malcolm and I played the roles of chasers, throwing the Quaffle, a special ball, back and forth and sending it into the hoops defended by Herbert Fleet, a boy from fifth year. Then two others joined in, trying to knock Malcolm and me off our brooms with the help of Bludgers, aggressive balls that act as projectiles, flying here and there.

Fragments of memory are like a movie. A movie about the long lives of different intelligent beings. They are full of events, both pleasant and sad. It would seem that, having such experience behind you, it is simply indecent to give in to childish excitement, fun, as well as to allow yourself to be drawn into such an adventure as Quidditch. But it was this experience that allowed you to understand one thing - everything has its time. And now is the time for fun. Dodging at the very last moment, madly maneuvering, accelerating, intercepting the ball and sending it to the target - it happened so naturally, and judging by the guys' words, also incredibly cool, powerful and fast, that the pleasure from what was happening rolled over on its own, and I did not see a single reason to resist it.

It was only just before lunch, tired and soaking wet with sweat, that we finally landed and walked towards the castle.

"It seems we found the hunter," Cedric nodded happily.

"We need another one," Malcolm nodded importantly and tiredly.

"The way Hector flies," said Herbert, the Keeper, "he and the Keeper are the only ones we need on the team. I'm not the best Keeper, but Mordred grabbed my leg! He's only just mastered the Quaffle and now it's been half an hour and I haven't caught a single ball! He'll make up a sixteen-goal difference faster than the opposing Seeker can catch the Snitch!"

"What do you say?" Cedric looked at me.

"Agree, boy!" the others cheered me on.

" Why not?"

"Hooray!!!"

So, so happy, we got to the locker room, shower, and then to the big hall, where the rest of the students were already having lunch. It seems that life is becoming a little more interesting. Only the fragments of the dwarf, whom I decided to call a gnome in my thoughts for convenience, are grumbling resentfully in the depths of my consciousness, if you can even say that. Oh well, I'm sure that soon their day will come.

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