Harry angled his Firebolt and descended toward the pitch.
At one side of the field, a shock of red hair was visible among the spectators. Even from a hundred meters in the air, it was as distinct as the mark of the Weasley family.
Bringing the broom to a perfect stop from a speed of dozens of kilometers per hour, Harry leaped deftly from his broomstick in front of the crowd. The small group of people who had gathered there jumped in surprise.
In truth, it was only three or four people. Harry recognized them at a glance as Ginny and her friends, fellow Gryffindors from a lower year.
Harry flashed a grin and said, "Hey, everyone. Did you come to watch the practice? It's not a real match, so there's not much to see."
At that, a girl standing behind Ginny opened her mouth, her smile full of mischief.
"Well, actually, we thought so too, but Ginny here… *mmph mmmph*."
*Oh.* A clean Muffliato Charm. Harry was quietly impressed by the magical skill of Ginny, who had silenced her friend in an instant.
After shooting a glare at her friend for her careless words, Ginny cleared her throat and spoke.
"Um, Harry oppa… is it okay if I call you that?"
"Of course, call me whatever you're comfortable with."
"Then, Harry oppa. Well, it's not much, but I have something to give you."
As if she had been planning to give it to him anyway, Ginny immediately pulled a neatly wrapped package from her cloak and handed it to Harry.
"It's, um, a scarf."
"A scarf?"
Though summer had passed, it wasn't quite the season for scarves yet.
Seeing the question in his eyes, Ginny's face reddened slightly as she explained.
"I was going to give it to you last winter, but it got delayed. Ah, and, um, my mum told me to give it to you!"
"Ah, I see."
Last winter was when Ron had been hovering between life and death after his encounter with Tom Riddle's magic. This was likely a gift of gratitude for what had happened then.
He wondered slightly why Mrs. Weasley would send it via Ginny instead of just giving it to Ron to pass along, but it wasn't particularly important.
His Quidditch uniform didn't have any pockets to store things, so Harry tucked the package under his arm and smiled.
"Thanks. Winter will be here soon, so I'll use it then. Please tell her I'll put it to good use."
"Ah, yes!"
"Well, there's not much to see, but enjoy our boring practice."
"No! It's not boring at all watching you practice, oppa. R-really. It's so spectacular, it's really fun to watch."
Even Harry felt a bit shy at such a direct compliment.
"Ah, haha. Thanks for the praise. I guess I'll have to practice even more spectacularly."
As Harry gave an awkward laugh, Ginny continued.
"Ah, it's not that I like it just because it's spectacular, I mean, that is… you're cool even when you make mistakes!"
Ginny's face flushed, as if she realized her own words sounded strange.
*Cool even when you make mistakes.* Harry gave her a curious look at that.
It was probably a coincidence, but he had just been agonizing over that very subject.
Harry asked Ginny in a playful tone, "So, you think I'd be cool even if I made a really important mistake? For example, what if I handed the Snitch over to the other team during the Quidditch final against Slytherin? Wouldn't you hate me if I made a mistake like that?"
But to Harry's lighthearted question, Ginny gave a surprisingly serious answer.
"Um, did you do it on purpose because you wanted Gryffindor to lose, oppa?"
"…Of course not, right?"
"Then why would we have any reason to hate you? You always do your best, don't you? And anyone can make a mistake."
At her words, Harry blinked slowly. Her response had cut right to the heart of his worries.
After a moment of thought, Harry changed the question.
"Hmm, then what if my mistake got a Gryffindor teammate hit by a Bludger and seriously hurt? Let's say it was a really bad injury, one that's hard to heal."
"Uh, um…"
Sensing the sudden shift to a heavy atmosphere, Harry felt a pang of regret and gave an awkward smile.
"Ah, sorry, Ginny. That was a really weird question, wasn't it? It's okay, you can just forget I said anything."
"No, it's okay! …Um, would it be all right if I thought about it a little more and gave you an answer later?"
"Of course, that's fine."
Harry felt a slight flutter in his chest at Ginny's sincere attitude toward his trivial question.
Was that why? A moment of awkwardness passed between them, and unable to bear the strange silence, Ginny was the first to bow her head.
"W-well, we'll be going now! Practice hard! Guys, let's go."
Harry watched the backs of Ginny and her friends as they hurried away, then, with a somewhat dazed expression, flew back up toward the pitch.
***
The Gryffindor common room.
Having finished Quidditch practice, Harry returned, utterly drained, and collapsed onto a sofa in the lounge.
Though it might not look like it, Quidditch was a genuine sport. A three-hour match was enough to leave one drenched in sweat.
To use a Muggle world analogy, perhaps it was similar to Keirin. (TN: Keirin (경륜) is a form of motor-paced cycle racing, very physically demanding.)
In any case, having poured all his energy into Quidditch, Harry was now draped over the Gryffindor sofa with the limpness of a living piece of dried seafood. Even the Krakens he'd hunted and turned into jerky would have recognized him as one of their own.
Collapsing in the Gryffindor common room after practice had become his routine lately, with the match next week looming. Little by little, Hogwarts was shedding the fear of Bellatrix and returning to its daily life.
Of course, no matter how hard he practiced, it wasn't enough to interfere with his classes. And besides, with a Quidditch fanatic like Professor McGonagall, she might have been understanding even if it did.
*'I don't want to think about anything. I don't want to move.'*
As he reached a state of perfect oneness with the sofa, exploring a trance-like state of mindlessness, Ron approached, wrinkling his face.
"Harry! Did you just come back from Quidditch and lie down on the sofa like that? You should wash up after exercising and getting all sweaty!"
"I used a cleaning charm, it's fine…"
"You should change your clothes when you get back to the common room! What are you doing in your outside clothes?"
But the person saying this, Ron, was himself still wrapped in a sweaty cloak.
Harry grimaced at his words and retorted, "Ugh. What's with you all of a sudden? It doesn't suit you."
At that, Ron let out a *hmph* and smoothed out his scowl.
"How was it? Did I sound a bit like a nagging mum?"
"Yeah, a lot."
"But this isn't the first time. I feel like I see you draped over this sofa every day. Is Wood-hyung working you too hard for Quidditch?"
"It's not like that…"
"Then what, are you volunteering for hardship or something?"
Harry didn't bother answering. It wasn't an incorrect statement.
Seeing Harry's tightly sealed lips, Ron grinned slyly.
"Oho, so it's true? What worries could our star, the Boy Who Lived, possibly have?"
"Ah, stop it."
"So, is something bothering you? Let your big bro Ron give you some advice."
Harry replied with a look of disbelief.
"What do you mean, big bro?"
Technically, Ron's birthday was a few months earlier, but in no respect did Ron seem like Harry's older brother. If anything, it was the other way around.
But Ron, who would normally have nodded along to Harry's point, just continued to grin smugly.
"Ahem, Harry. This hyung became an adult long before you. Hmm… and from what I can see, you definitely have a big worry. Right?"
Harry flinched at Ron's unusually confident demeanor. Could Ron have possibly seen through to his inner turmoil…?
"It's girl trouble, isn't it? Ha, I'm an expert in that department."
Of course he hadn't. At Ron's words, Harry deflated and flopped back onto the sofa. Seeing this, Ron was the one who looked surprised.
"What? It's really not? No, that can't be right."
"Just go to bed. I'm busy with other problems."
Harry snorted as Ron tilted his head, still looking suspicious.
Girl trouble, what a joke. He had no interest in such things. He was dealing with something much more serious… hmm.
…Hmm. Girl trouble. Maybe he wasn't completely uninterested. Harry watched the back of Ron's retreating head with a strange look in his eyes.
"Hey, Ron. Did your mum give you anything to pass on to me?"
"Huh? No, nothing. Why?"
"…Ah, nothing. My birthday was a while ago, just wondering."
Harry froze for a split second as he recalled receiving the gift from Ginny. Then… that scarf wasn't from Mrs. Weasley, but made by Ginny herself?
Suddenly, Harry's face grew hot.
It was a miracle that Ron hadn't seen his momentary pause, but unfortunately, Ron wasn't the only one in the common room.
On the contrary, someone he would much rather not have known was standing quietly across the room, and had been for some time.
Aisen's eyes were sparkling, his face covered in a mischievous smile.
Confirming that Ron had gone up to the dormitory, Aisen opened his mouth.
"Oho, Harry. I first met you when you were seven, and to think you've already reached the age where you're interested in girls! This master is filled with deep emotion."
At that look, Harry was overcome with the kind of embarrassment one feels when caught with a girlfriend by their family. Well, technically she wasn't his girlfriend or anything! And it wasn't like he had feelings for Ginny, but that's just how it felt.
With a circling grin, Aisen came over to the sofa, sat next to Harry, and slung an arm around his shoulders.
At least on the surface, they looked like two brothers teasing each other.
Harry said, looking disgusted, "Ah, it's really not like that. I just got a gift. It's a bit weird to say it myself, but I'm popular, you know? Getting gifts is a common occurrence."
"Is thaaat so? Hmm… let me take a guess. The person who gave you that gift… Ginny Weasley, right?"
The moment he heard that, Harry was so startled he nearly jumped out of his skin.
*What? My Occlumency shields are up, so how on earth did he know?*
Aisen chuckled and, as if reading his mind, said, "Harry, I don't need Legilimency to read your thoughts yet. How many years do you think I've raised you?"
"…Ah, it's really not like that."
"What's not like that? I haven't said a word yet."
"Uwaaah!"
Harry looked at Aisen sulkily and said, "In this department, Master, you're not exactly in a position to talk."
"Not in a position to talk?"
"…You really don't know, do you?"
"Don't know what? What are you talking about?"
*Good grief. How can a mind that sharp be so completely dense when it comes to this? No, wait. The fact that he knew right away that Ginny gave me the gift means his mind works just fine in this area.*
*Poor Hermione.*
Seeing Harry's expression grow endlessly stranger, Aisen snorted.
"Hah, Harry. If you think you can change the subject like that, you're mistaken."
"No, I'm not trying to change the subject. Haaah."
"So, what did you get?"
Ignoring Harry's sigh, Aisen pressed on. Harry answered reluctantly.
"A scarf."
"Hoh, handmade? Full of romance. When are you two seeing each other next?"
"We didn't make any plans like that. There's really nothing between us. …Besides, we're in the same House, we'll run into each other eventually."
He felt like he was getting more worked up about it because of Aisen. It really wasn't like that.
*…Still, I should probably try to talk to her the next time I see her.* He couldn't live his life being as dense as his master, could he? Of course, it wasn't like he suddenly had feelings for Ginny or anything!
But contrary to Harry's thoughts, he didn't run into Ginny again, as if she were a ghost. There couldn't be that many people in Hogwarts that he wouldn't even bump into her by chance.
*Is she avoiding me?* For some reason, Harry felt a little depressed.
And so, a month passed. At the end of a chilly autumn, the day of the Quidditch match dawned.
***