"Too early?" Albert glanced around the Great Hall but didn't see George or the others anywhere. He reached into his pocket, pulled out his pocket watch, and checked the time: 4:10 p.m.
Right on time.
"But… that figures," he muttered.
A thought struck him, and he sighed. George and the others were only eleven-year-old kids; expecting them to keep track of time was unrealistic. None of the three even owned a pocket watch.
"I just hope they don't keep me waiting too long."
With nothing else to do, Albert took out his wand and began polishing off fingerprints with a handkerchief while mentally reviewing what he remembered about the Summoning Charm from *Deformation Theory*.
"Chrysanthemum blooms," he whispered experimentally.
Nothing happened.
Albert frowned and checked his skill list—then froze, noticing someone sitting beside him.
It wasn't the twins. If it had been the three of them, the area certainly wouldn't be this quiet.
He scanned his skills again. No Summoning Charm. As expected, he would need to borrow a fifth-year textbook.
"Something wrong?" Albert asked, finally turning to Sanna.
"That… could I—" Sanna began hesitantly, but before she could finish—
"Albert! Over here!" The twins were waving frantically from the Great Hall entrance.
"I've got to go," Albert said, rising. "What were you going to say?"
"Nothing," Sanna murmured, looking a little disappointed.
"If you were hoping I could teach you Transfiguration, I can't right now—I've already made plans." Remembering his own early struggles with magic, he added gently, "Don't rush it. Starting out is the hardest part. It took me ages to get the hang of Transfiguration."
"Oh… thank you." Sanna paused, then asked, "Tonight, if you have time—"
"If I'm free, sure. See you tonight!" Albert said quickly, heading toward the twins.
"See you tonight," Sanna whispered, watching him leave. "Why is the gap so big…?"
"What were you talking about?" Fred asked as Albert reached them.
"I was talking about where you lot disappeared to!" Albert grumbled. "Your appointment with Charlie is almost overdue."
"You know we don't have pocket watches," the three said sheepishly, all well aware they were late.
"I'm not blaming you. I knew you'd be late." Albert glanced at the muggy sky overhead.
"Anyway… are you sure your brother will let us try his broom?" Lee Jordan asked stiffly, trying to change the subject.
Even the thought of flying made him nervous. His parents had bought him a toy broomstick, but those couldn't fly high, fast, or anywhere near Muggles.
"He'll let you," Albert said. "A good captain won't miss the chance to scout promising first-years. Even if they can't join the team this year, he can still consider them for reserves."
"Albert's right." George patted Lee Jordan on the shoulder, making him jump. "Your biggest worry should be not falling off."
"You'll be the one falling off!" Lee Jordan shot back.
"Albert, have you ever flown on a broomstick?" Fred asked suddenly.
"I'm from a Muggle family. What do you think?" Albert rolled his eyes, then bent to pick up a small stone from the path.
"What do you want that for?" George asked, baffled.
"You'll see." Albert tossed the stone lightly in his hand without further explanation.
The four of them reached the Quidditch Pitch in high spirits. Charlie wasn't there yet—it was only 4:30.
"I bet he'll be late," Albert said as they reached the gate. The door was locked, but that wasn't a problem. Albert easily unlocked it with an *Alohomora*.
Below the stands stretched a soft, well-kept lawn, with a wide sand patch at the center to lessen fall injuries. Hundreds of seats wrapped around the stadium, and at each end stood three fifty-foot-tall poles topped with giant rings—much like oversized soap-bubble blowers.
"Charlie is definitely late," Fred muttered, deflated.
"What do we do? We should've come later," George sighed. Without their own brooms, waiting around was painful.
"You could practice spells," Albert suggested, settling himself under a patch of shade. "Try the *Lumos* Charm. If you're bored, at least do something useful."
"Fine… you're right." The three, though gloomy, admitted he had a point. At least practicing would make time pass faster.
Albert, meanwhile, took out his wand and began practicing the Disillusionment Charm on the stone he'd picked up earlier.
"Now I know why you learn spells so fast," Lee Jordan groaned as his wand flickered weakly.
Anyone who practiced this obsessively had no reason *not* to improve—unless they were truly hopeless.
(If they knew Albert had a cheat, they might feel differently.)
Around five o'clock, Charlie Weasley finally jogged over, carrying his broomstick—a Shooting Star.
The twins had mentioned it before, so Albert recognized the model. Apparently, it was an older broom.
"How did you get in? I'm sure this gate was locked," Charlie said suspiciously as he approached.
"With *Alohomora*, obviously," the twins said in unison, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
"Don't say it like you two know how to cast *Alohomora*," Lee Jordan retorted.
"Anyway, *you* didn't open it," George shot back.
Charlie clapped his hands. "Alright. The test is simple: fly one lap around the pitch on my broom." He looked at Albert and Lee Jordan. "Either of you ever ridden a real broom before?"
"No," Albert said plainly.
"I've only used a toy broom," Lee Jordan mumbled.
"Once those two finish, you lot can try as well," Charlie said, nodding toward the twins—who were already bickering over who got to ride first. "And you two—just one honest lap. If I catch you pulling any tricks… hmph."