"First slice for the birthday girl, obviously," Adam announced with a grin. He cut a generous piece of the cake, the knife sinking through rich chocolate frosting and light sponge. With his wand, the slice floated gently onto a waiting plate, which then zoomed over to Hermione. He quickly served the others, and for a few minutes, the only sounds in the room were the happy, appreciative murmurs of friends enjoying a midnight feast.
"Right then, presents!" Ron finally said, his voice slightly muffled by a mouthful of cake. He eagerly nudged a clumsily wrapped, book-shaped package across the table. "This one's from me. Go on, open it."
Hermione laughed, her spirits soaring. She carefully unwrapped it to reveal a handsome-looking book titled Bewitching Brain-Teasers and Magical Puzzles, along with a small, clear bag filled with brightly coloured Sugar Quills.
"Oh, Ron, this is wonderful!" she said, her smile genuine. "It's perfect! Not homework, but still a challenge. Thank you!"
"Figured you'd like it," Ron said, looking immensely pleased with himself.
Next, Neville shyly pushed a small, beautifully potted plant forward. It had soft, silvery-green leaves, and nestled in the center was a single, closed, daisy-like bud.
"This is... for you, Hermione," he mumbled, his cheeks turning pink. "It's a Lumos-Daisy. It... it glows a bit in the dark. For... for reading, I thought."
"Neville, it's perfect!" Hermione breathed, her eyes wide with delight. "A real magical plant! I've read about these but I've never seen one. Thank you so much!" Neville beamed, happy to have given her something she genuinely appreciated.
"My turn," Harry said, passing her a long, elegant box made of dark, polished wood. Inside, nestled in deep blue velvet, was the stunning eagle feather quill set.
"Harry..." she whispered, lifting the quill as if it were a priceless treasure. "It's the most beautiful set I've ever seen."
"Blimey, Harry," Ron whistled, craning his neck for a better look. "That must have cost a Knut or two."
Harry just shrugged, looking pleased. "Well, she deserves a good quill," he said, glancing at the stack of books by her seat. "She does more writing than the rest of us combined."
Next, Hermione turned to the packages the owls had brought, recognizing her mother's neat wrapping on one. Inside were loving letters from her parents and Adam's, which they read quietly, a warm, happy feeling spreading through the room.
"Oh, there's one more here," Ron said, picking up a small, gaudily wrapped box.
"This one's from Fred and George."
Hermione took it with a hint of suspicion. It looked like a simple box of fancy chocolates, but a small note was tucked under the ribbon. She opened it and read aloud:
"Dear Hermione, Heard it was your birthday. For use on any git who gives you trouble. One chocolate should do the trick. Use wisely. - F&G."
She stared at the note, then at the innocent-looking chocolates, and a look of horrified understanding dawned on her face. "Oh, those two! This is dreadful!"
Ron snatched the note. His eyes went wide, but with outrage. "Are you kidding me?!" he spluttered. "They're prank sweets! They told me it was their new line of 'Cheering Chocolates'! I wanted to give one to Crabbe tomorrow! Those gits!"
The room erupted in laughter. Hermione, despite herself, couldn't stop a real giggle from escaping as she quickly hid the box away.
After the laughter died down, Daphne stood up hesitantly and walked over, holding her own exquisitely wrapped gift. "Happy birthday, Granger," she said, her voice soft.
Hermione was taken aback. "Oh! Thank you, Daphne." She unwrapped it to find a beautiful silver brooch in the shape of a single, stylized feather.
She looked from the pretty silver feather to Daphne's quiet face. But... she's a Slytherin, Hermione thought, her mind in a jumble. Slytherins are like Malfoy, aren't they? Mean and nasty. But this... this isn't a mean gift. It's a really nice gift. It's something you'd get from... a proper friend. Why would she give me this? Maybe... maybe not all of them are like Malfoy?
"It's beautiful," Hermione said sincerely, looking up and meeting Daphne's eyes. "Thank you."
Daphne gave a small, almost imperceptible nod and returned to her seat, a slight smile impossible for her to hide.
Finally, Adam stepped forward, levitating a very large, heavy object wrapped in simple brown paper. "My turn," he said.
Hermione unwrapped it to find a massive, leather-bound book that smelled of old parchment and rich dye. The cover was blank. She opened it. On the first page was a moving photograph she hadn't even realized he'd taken. It was of her, standing just past the brick archway from the Leaky Cauldron, her eyes wide with utter wonder as she took in the chaotic, magical spectacle of Diagon Alley for the very first time. Below it, in Adam's neat handwriting, were the words:
Occasion: First trip to Diagon Alley. Location: The entrance to the wizarding world. Explanation: The real start of our journey.
She turned the page. There was the photo of the two of them on the Hogwarts Express. The next page showed the four of them at the Gryffindor table, staring up at the enchanted ceiling. Another: a candid shot of her, nose-deep in a book in the common room, completely unaware. Page after page, it was the story of their friendship. It was the book she had wished for after seeing Adam's own adventure handbook.
The tears that had threatened earlier now came freely, silent drops splashing onto her hands. This gift meant he had listened, truly listened, and understood her. She could only look at him, her gratitude too big for words.
Seeing her speechless, Adam decided to break the tender silence. "Right then," he announced cheerfully. "Who's hungry for something other than cake?" He gestured to a corner of the room, where several covered platters of sandwiches, pumpkin pasties, and bottles of pumpkin juice suddenly appeared with a soft pop.
"How'd you manage that?" Harry asked, amazed.
"Made a friend," Adam explained. "There's a house-elf who works in the kitchens, name's Pippy. I ran into him near the entrance a while back. He was trying to carry a teetering stack of copper cauldrons and was about to drop the lot. After I helped him out, we got to talking. He's a good sort. I just left him a note earlier telling him the time and place, and he promised to send up a few snacks for us."
He beamed at the impressed looks on his friends' faces as he started passing around the plates.
The group ate and talked for what felt like hours, the atmosphere warm and easygoing. They finished the sandwiches, the pumpkin pasties, and most of the juice, their laughter echoing in the vast, magical room. Eventually, a huge yawn from Ron signaled that the night was finally catching up to them.
"We'd better get going," Harry said, stifling a yawn of his own. "We've got flying first thing in the morning, and Professor Hooch is not someone I want to be sleepy in front of."
"Harry's right," Neville agreed, already looking half-asleep but incredibly happy.
Adam stood up. "Okay, party's over then. Everyone grab your gifts. Don't worry about the mess, I'll sort it. But don't forget to wear the blindfolds, this place is my secret practice room."
Everyone laughed yet didn't deny this time as everyone was in a good mood. They gathered their things, and with final, happy whispers of "Happy Birthday, Hermione!", the group stepped out of the Room of Requirement under Adam's lead. The grand door faded back into the stone wall behind them, leaving them once again in the quiet, moonlit seventh-floor corridor from where Adam took them to another floor before letting them remove the blindfolds.
The Gryffindors said their goodnights to Daphne, who gave a stiff but not unfriendly nod in return. As Harry, Ron, Neville, and Hermione started heading towards the staircase to their tower, Daphne hung back.
"Taylor," she called out quietly. "A minute."
Adam paused, turning to face her as the footsteps of his other friends faded away. They stood in silence for a moment, the air between them charged with an unfamiliar lack of hostility.
"I..." she started, then stopped, clearly unaccustomed to what she was about to say. "I wanted to thank you. For inviting me." She looked down at the floor for a second before meeting his eyes again. "It was... nice. Different. New."
Before Adam could formulate a proper response, she gave him a single, curt nod. "Goodnight," she said, and then turned and walked away quickly, her footsteps echoing down the corridor towards the dungeons, leaving Adam alone with his thoughts. Well, he thought with a small smile. 'That's a start.'
He made his way back to the Gryffindor common room, expecting it to be empty. The fire had burned down to glowing red embers, casting long, dancing shadows on the walls. But he wasn't alone.
Hermione was waiting for him, curled up in one of the big, squashy armchairs by the hearth. The huge leather-bound album he had given her was resting in her lap.
"I was waiting for you," she said softly as he approached.
He pulled up a footstool and sat opposite her. "You should be in bed. Big day tomorrow."
"I couldn't sleep until I said thank you properly," she said, her eyes shining in the dim light. "Harry told me. On the way back. He said... all of this... the room, the decorations, the food... it was all you. Not everyone. Just you."
Her voice was thick with emotion. "I don't even know what to say, Adam. No one has ever done anything like that for me before. Thank you. From the bottom of my heart."
Adam felt a warmth spread through his chest that had nothing to do with the dying fire. He looked at his friend, at her earnest, grateful face, and smiled.
"That's what you deserve, Hermione," he said simply and sincerely. "You're my best friend, too."
A comfortable, happy silence settled between them. After a few moments, he stood up. "Come on. We really do need to get to sleep now."
She nodded, hugging the photo album to her chest as if it were the most precious treasure on earth. They said their goodnights at the bottom of the stairs to their respective dormitories.
As Adam finally climbed into his own bed, the deep exhaustion of the long night was overshadowed by a buzzing excitement. The party had been a complete success. But tomorrow brought a different kind of thrill, one he had been looking forward to for a long, long time: their first flying lesson.
The next morning, the exhaustion from the previous night's celebration was completely overshadowed by a buzzing, nervous excitement. The Gryffindor first-years made their way down to the castle grounds, the crisp autumn air feeling electric with anticipation. On the perfectly manicured lawns, two long lines of battered-looking school broomsticks lay on the dewy grass. Across from them, the Slytherin first-years were already assembled, their expressions a familiar mixture of arrogance and disdain. Malfoy was, of course, front and center.
Adam felt a thrill run through him. This was it. After all his secret practice in the Room of Requirement, this was the real thing. He took his place in the line between Harry and Ron, his eyes fixed on the Cleansweep Five in front of him.
A few moments later, their instructor arrived. Madam Hooch had short, grey hair and sharp, hawk-like yellow eyes that seemed to miss nothing.
"Good afternoon, class," she said, her voice sharp and commanding.
"Good afternoon, Madam Hooch," the class chorused back.
"Well, what are you all waiting for?" she barked. "Everyone stand by a broomstick. Hurry up."
Adam moved to his spot, his heart thumping with excitement, not nerves.
"Stick your right hand out over your broom," called Madam Hooch, "and say 'Up!'"
"UP!" everyone shouted in unison.
A fascinating variety of results followed. For Adam, the result was instantaneous. The broom handle leaped from the grass straight into his palm, feeling familiar and correct. He glanced over and saw that Harry's had done the exact same thing. They shared a brief, surprised look of mutual respect. Hermione's broom had only given a slight twitch before rolling over on the grass because of her nervousness, and Ron had to shout "UP!" several times before the broom finally shot upwards and hit him square in the nose, earning a snicker from Malfoy. Neville's broom hadn't moved an inch. Adam could see the poor boy was pale with fear, clearly thinking his broom was broken.
Madam Hooch then showed them how to mount their brooms without sliding off the end, and walked up and down the lines, correcting their grips. Adam listened patiently, his own grip already firm and practiced.
"Now, when I blow my whistle," she said, "I want each of you to kick off from the ground, hard. Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle... three... two..."
But Neville, trembling with nervousness and desperate to not be left on the ground, pushed off too hard and too early, even before the whistle had touched Madam Hooch's lips.
"Whoosh!"
He shot upwards like a cork out of a champagne bottle. Twelve feet. Twenty feet. Adam watched in horror as Neville's terrified face grew smaller and smaller. He could hear the boy's panicked gasps for air as he soared higher and higher. He wobbled, then with a sickening lurch, he slipped sideways off the broom.
There was a collective gasp from the students below as Neville plummeted back towards the earth. He hit the ground with a dull, sickening thud.
Madam Hooch was at his side in a second, her face grim. Malfoy and his cronies were laughing, but Adam could see that Harry and Ron looked as horrified as he felt. Neville was on the ground, his face pale and streaked with tears. Adam felt guilty as he didn't interfere with the original story and let Neville get hurt. Neville was his friend and it wasn't right for Adam to do this for his own benefit. Adam promised himself to not be selfish like this ever again.
"Broken wrist," Madam Hooch muttered, gently helping the sobbing boy to his feet.
"Come on, boy—it's alright, up you get."
She turned to the rest of the class, her hawk-like eyes sweeping over every single one of them, her expression stern and absolute.
"None of you is to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing! You leave those brooms where they are or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quidditch'."
With a final, warning glare, she put her arm around Neville's shoulders and led him away towards the castle, leaving the two houses alone on the grounds.
The moment Madam Hooch and Neville were out of earshot, Malfoy burst into loud, jeering laughter.
"Did you see his face, the great lump?" he crowed to Crabbe and Goyle, who snickered appreciatively. The other Slytherins joined in.
Just then, Malfoy's pale eyes spotted something glittering on the grass. He sauntered over and picked it up. It was the glass sphere of Neville's Remembrall.
"Look!" Malfoy said, holding it up for everyone to see. "It's that stupid thing Longbottom's gran sent him."
A cold, hard anger flared in Harry's chest. "Give it here, Malfoy," he said, his voice dangerously quiet as he stepped forward.
Ron and the other Gryffindors murmured in agreement, but before Malfoy could retort, another figure stepped up beside Harry. It was Adam.
Malfoy's sneer faltered for a fraction of a second, replaced by genuine surprise. He had seen Adam as a quiet, serious type, someone who kept to himself. "Taylor?" he asked, an arrogant smirk returning to his face, though it didn't quite mask his curiosity. "Don't tell me you're getting mixed up with this lot. I thought you had better taste."
"Just give back the Remembrall, Malfoy, or do you want another duel?" Adam said, his voice perfectly calm, which seemed to irritate Malfoy more than Harry's anger.
Malfoy laughed, a high-pitched, angry sound. "No. I don't think I will," he decided. He swung his leg over his broom, clutching the Remembrall tightly. "I think I'll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find—how about... up a tree?"
And with that, he kicked off the ground and shot into the air, hovering twenty feet above them, the glass ball glinting in his hand.
"Harry, no!" Hermione shouted from the sidelines. "You heard what Madam Hooch said! You'll be expelled!"
But Harry wasn't listening. His blood was pounding in his ears. He grabbed his broom, swung his leg over, and with a powerful kick, he was airborne, soaring up to face Malfoy.
Adam watched them for a second, a plan forming in his mind. Time to see what Potter is really made of, he thought. And no sense showing all my cards just yet.
He mounted his own broom and kicked off. But instead of the smooth, controlled ascent he was capable of, he made it look clumsy. He deliberately wobbled, rising unsteadily into the air as if he were fighting for balance. He flew up to join Harry, but positioned himself slightly behind, looking like an amateur struggling to keep up.
Draco saw Adam's "struggle" and his confidence visibly swelled. "Look at that!" he taunted, his voice echoing across the grounds. "Potter's got himself a wobbly bodyguard! What's the matter, Taylor? Can't handle a simple school broom?"
Adam just leveled a calm gaze at him, hovering unsteadily beside Harry.
"You're all alone up here, Malfoy," Harry said, his eyes narrowed.
"That's right," Adam added, his voice carrying easily on the wind. "Crabbe and Goyle aren't here to protect you this time."
For the first time, a flicker of uncertainty crossed Draco's face. He looked from Harry's determined glare to Adam's unnervingly calm one and back again. He was outnumbered. The realization seemed to sour his fun.
His face twisted with anger. "Catch it if you can, then!" he yelled.
He drew his arm back and hurled the Remembrall with all his might. The glass sphere shot away, arcing high into the sky, a glittering speck against the bright blue. Adam had to admit there, Draco got a really good throw for a little kid of his size.
In an instant, both Harry and Adam leaned forward, their brooms accelerating like bullets as their pursuit began.
The air whistled past their ears. The old Cleansweep Fives shuddered under the sudden, intense acceleration, but they held true. Harry, flying on pure, righteous fury, was a natural. He leaned into the turns with an instinct Adam could only marvel at, his body and the broom acting as one single entity. Adam flew beside him, his own movements precise and controlled. He could have pulled ahead, could have ended the chase in seconds, but he held back. He's a natural, Adam thought, a flicker of admiration cutting through his focus.
No wasted movement. Pure instinct. Let's see how he handles pressure.
The Remembrall, thrown with all of Malfoy's spiteful strength, had reached the apex of its arc and was now plummeting back towards the castle. But it wasn't heading for the grounds. It was heading directly for one of the high towers. Straight for a window.
Meanwhile, in her study overlooking the grounds, Professor Minerva McGonagall was diligently marking a stack of first-year Transfiguration essays. The only sounds were the scratching of her quill and the soft ticking of a grandfather clock.
Suddenly, a high-pitched, unfamiliar whistle pierced the quiet. It was the sound of air being torn apart. Frowning, she looked up from her parchment and peered out her window.
Her stern expression vanished, replaced by one of wide-eyed shock. Two small, black-robed figures were hurtling towards her window at an impossible speed, growing larger with every heartbeat.
Back in the air, the world had become a blur of green grass and blue sky for Harry and Adam. Their focus was narrowed to a single point: the glinting glass sphere falling like a stone towards the window. There would be no time to pull up after catching it.
They closed the distance in the final seconds, neck and neck. The stone of the castle wall rushed up to meet them. The Remembrall was now just a few metres from the glass. In a final, desperate surge, both boys lunged forward, their arms outstretched, fingers straining for the ball. Their hands were inches apart, a blur of motion against the windowpane that reflected their determined faces.
Now! Adam thought. He saw Harry's fingers were a fraction of a second too slow. Pushing his own broom in a final, calculated burst, Adam's hand shot forward. His fingers closed around the cool, smooth glass of the Remembrall just as it was about to shatter against the ancient window.
The moment Adam's hand secured the prize, a new crisis erupted. They had run out of sky.
Professor McGonagall shot to her feet, her chair scraping loudly against the floor. Her wand was half-raised, her face a mask of horror as she braced for the inevitable, sickening crash of two boys and their brooms smashing through her window.
But the crash never came.
In a breathtaking display of reflexes that defied their inexperience, Harry wrenched his broom hard to the left, while Adam simultaneously pulled his sharply to the right. For a split second, the air screamed as the twigs of their brooms scraped against the stone on either side of the window frame. The world tilted violently as they banked away at the last possible moment, peeling off in opposite directions and leaving the corridor of air in front of the window suddenly, shockingly empty.
Professor McGonagall stood frozen, her heart pounding in her chest, staring at the empty patch of sky where two of her students had been moments from disaster.
They circled once above the grounds, a graceful, synchronized loop of victory, before gliding back down to the grass. The landing was perfect. Adam, with a casual underhand toss, threw the Remembrall to Harry. The Gryffindors erupted.
A massive roar went up from their side of the lawn. Ron was jumping up and down, pumping his fists in the air. Seamus and Dean were yelling their approval, and even Neville, looking pale but holding his Remembrall, was beaming with pride.
The Slytherins, on the other hand, looked furious. Their initial hope for a spectacular crash had been dashed by a display of flying that none of them could hope to match. Malfoy's face was a mask of disbelief and rage. Only Daphne Greengrass stood apart from her housemates, her arms crossed, her expression not angry, but calculating and intensely curious. She had seen Adam's supposed clumsiness earlier, and it did not match the incredible control he had just displayed towards the end as if hiding his skills intentionally.
Before Harry or Adam could fully enjoy their triumph, Hermione marched right up to them, her face thunderous.
"I can't believe you two!" she said, her voice shaking with a mixture of terror and fury. "You could have been killed! Or worse, expelled! It was completely reckless! I'm going to—"
But whatever she was going to say was cut off by a voice that was sharper and colder than a winter wind.
"HARRY POTTER! ADAM TAYLOR!"
The cheering from the Gryffindors died instantly. Every student froze. Professor McGonagall was striding towards them, her face as grim and unyielding as the castle walls behind her. She had never looked so angry.
"You two," she said, her voice dangerously low as she reached them. "Follow me. Now."
They didn't dare argue. Harry shot a worried look at Ron, while Adam gave a subtle, reassuring nod to Hermione. They handed their school brooms back and fell into step behind Professor McGonagall, walking away from the grounds and towards the castle.
The moment they were a safe distance away, the Slytherins erupted in a different kind of cheer. It was a sound of pure, malicious glee.
"Dead men walking!" Malfoy yelled after them, and the Slytherins howled with laughter.
Draco watched them go, a cruel, triumphant smirk plastered on his face. He felt a deep, satisfying sense of victory wash over him. So, Taylor, he thought, savoring the moment. You may have won that duel, but I'll have the last laugh. Getting you expelled is even better revenge.
Adam and Harry walked on, the sound of their friends' worried silence and their enemies' gleeful jeers fading behind them as Professor McGonagall led them into the cold stone entrance of the castle.