A Little Help

"Let's give it a try..."

Andrew took the wooden board and assorted balls he had just acquired, found an empty classroom, and propped the board up. Then he drew the curtains. He couldn't repair glass yet, and having to call someone over—or getting caught by Filch—would be no fun...

"Still, it's strange. They were just four branches... Transfiguration really is incredible."

After another moment of wonder, Andrew drew his wand and murmured the incantation.

"Wingardium Leviosa!"

With one neat flick at the end of his wand movement, the smallest replica Snitch jerked as if something had yanked it and flew straight into the wall.

"Accuracy's all right, but it's a little slow..."

Andrew cast the spell on the second replica Bludger. This one was even slower, and its destructive power hardly lived up to the name Bludger.

Clearly, just as the upper-year student had said, they were only props. To test the real thing, he would have to go to the pitch.

But they were good enough.

He didn't need to test the largest one.

Andrew settled down and used the Levitation Charm to whip the replica Snitch away again and again. One question occasionally occurred to him: If it could fly that fast, why was it still called the Levitation Charm?

That didn't stop him from growing more familiar with the spell. As time passed, the replica Snitch struck the wooden board with an ever-sharper crack, and his casting motions grew more casual.

He could even stop in the middle of a short sprint, flick the Snitch away, and make it strike the seven- or eight-point section of the board with a crisp snap.

"Who's there?"

Andrew, deep in practice, suddenly heard the door open. He turned at once, his left hand closing firmly around the nail in his pocket.

"Ah... Sorry... I... I didn't know..."

The halting words were broken by unmistakable sobs. The newcomer was a boy Andrew recognized from the Hogwarts Express—the one who had been looking for his toad. His name was Neville, if Andrew remembered right.

"Come in. Tell me what happened."

Andrew didn't want his practice interrupted, but he had sworn to face life properly and stay positive. So when someone ran into trouble, he would offer what help he could, provided it didn't go against his principles—just as he had on the train.

Put simply, if he couldn't swim, he wouldn't jump in to save someone. But he would call for help while looking for a long enough branch.

"It's... it's nothing..."

"Ah..." The crying boy looked up and recognized Andrew almost immediately. "Yes, on the train. Thank you for that."

"So what happened? Maybe I can give you some useful advice."

"I messed up... They're making things up about me... And I lost a lot of points again..."

"Everyone loses points. But who's 'they'?"

"Those Slytherins... They said I'm not cut out to be a wizard... I'm starting to wonder if they're right..."

That cleared things up. From the scraps Andrew had heard at the dining table, Neville was the Gryffindor student that professor had chosen as a target this year. His other subjects weren't going well either, and the pressure had finally gotten to him.

"There's no question you can be a wizard. The school wouldn't have admitted you otherwise. You're just too nervous..."

After that brief reassurance, Andrew went straight to the most important question. "Did you punch them?"

"Huh?"

Even Neville was startled by that leap in logic. "Punch... punch them?"

"Yeah. When they said it, you should've punched one of them in the nose."

"No, Grandma taught me..."

"Your grandma told you not to punch people who attack you?"

"No. Grandma told me not to cause trouble at school."

"That wouldn't be causing trouble... Though going to punch him now wouldn't be a good idea. And the older students shouldn't get involved... Let me think..." Andrew thought for a moment, then an idea came to him. "Have you talked to Harry Potter?"

"Huh?"

"That's right. Go to Harry Potter," Andrew said firmly. "He's the one with the most pull among Gryffindor's first-years, isn't he?"

"The Slytherins bullied you. What's wrong with going to him?"

Fighting back might be a bit extreme, but if no one stopped the students taunting Neville, they would only get worse. Eventually, they would even take his attempts to defend himself as an insult.

The best moment to respond had passed. The next-best choice was to get someone influential on his side and strike back. That way, he was less likely to face one provocation after another.

It was a little unfair to Harry Potter, but Gryffindor House students were used to losing points. At Hogwarts, fighting only cost you points. Andrew had looked into it, even sacrificing time he could have spent practicing Charms.

"Would... would that be all right?"

"Of course. I'd suggest telling him in the Common Room. You need to trust your housemates!"

Perhaps Gryffindor really was that united. Or perhaps Neville trusted Andrew because his advice on the train hadn't led him astray. Either way, he soon left.

"It's not ideal, but it really is for his own good. This won't stop unless someone steps in... It's the lesser of two evils."

Andrew shook his head, closed the door, and went back to practicing his spell.

"A fight? An ambush!"

"Several of you against one! And you led them, Potter!"

"Who were the others? Never mind—you won't tell me. You can clean the toilets, Mr. Potter!"

In Professor McGonagall's office, Harry listened to her scolding with a bloody nose and bits of grass tangled in his messy hair. "If Professor Sprout hadn't happened to pass by, you would have beaten those Slytherins flat, wouldn't you?"

"And some of them ran off. First-years wouldn't have done that, so older students must have been involved. You won't tell me who they were either!"

"No, perhaps you were the one leading them. Very well. Twenty points from Gryffindor, and you'll clean the toilets for a week, Mr. Potter. Report to Filch!"

Harry was sent out of the office. His head was still in a muddle. He had listened to Neville's story, then an older student had suggested what to do, and before he knew it, he had gathered some people and left the Common Room.

He hadn't expected so many housemates to come along. Then they had found the Slytherin students, who had still been running their mouths.

And then... in a blur, he had ended up in Professor McGonagall's office.

Oh, no...

A whole week of toilets...

Feeling thoroughly dejected, he returned to the Common Room—only to be startled by the crowd waiting to welcome him.

"Brilliant!"

"He didn't tell Professor McGonagall a thing!"

"What an ambush!"

"They started it!"

("We lost twenty points!" But the voice was drowned out.)

The Gryffindor Common Room was as lively as if they were celebrating a holiday.