Tri-School Exchange

Harry Potter paused in the fourth-floor corridor of Hogwarts, letting his gaze drift over the honeyed rays of late afternoon sunlight spilling through the towering windows.

The ancient stones glowed with warmth, their austere grey touched by a fleeting hint of gold.

It was a rare moment of stillness amid the bustle of school life—a moment Harry cherished.

He rested against the wall, ruffling a hand through his newly shortened hair.

It still refused to lie flat—some things, he supposed, never changed.

Yet the simple act of altering his appearance felt oddly liberating.

'Maybe this is my subtle way of reclaiming who I am,' he mused. 'Not the icon everyone expects me to be.'

A distant echo of footsteps drew his attention.

He straightened just as Neville Longbottom appeared, staggering slightly under the weight of a large clay pot filled with Mimbulus mimbletonia cuttings.

A faint sheen of sweat dampened Neville's brow, and his robes bore fresh smudges of dirt, as if he'd narrowly escaped the clutches of a Venomous Tentacula.

Harry moved closer to lend a hand. "That plant looks like it's ready to die. Are you okay?"

With utmost care, Neville lowered the pot onto the floor and exhaled heavily. "I found it half-abandoned in Professor Sprout's greenhouse. Couldn't leave it there after hearing how some students neglect older specimens. It's just… not right."

His voice held a quiet note of indignation, though he offered Harry a lopsided smile.

"Should we find somewhere quieter?" Harry asked, glancing around at the growing number of students heading toward the Great Hall for dinner.

Neville hesitated, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "Yes—if you don't mind. I wanted to talk in private."

Something in Neville's tone made Harry's eyebrows lift.

He sensed a certain urgency, maybe even nerves.

'Is this about what I think it is?' Harry wondered, suppressing a knowing grin.

They navigated a series of winding corridors until they discovered an empty classroom, dust motes drifting lazily in bronze streams of the evening light.

Neville chose a rickety chair near the front, while Harry sat on the corner of an old oak desk, arms folded as he regarded his friend.

Neville dragged a hand over his face, as though steeling himself. "Right. I need some advice—and I promise it's not about my misadventures attracting flesh-eating slugs."

Harry let out a low chuckle. "Glad to hear it. So… what's on your mind?"

With a slightly rueful expression, Neville said, "It's Hermione."

He pressed his lips together, pausing as if waiting for Harry's reaction. "You know how we went for tea after Charms that one time? Not quite a date, but… it felt different."

Harry inclined his head, trying not to grin too broadly. "I recall you mentioning it once or twice… or every bloody day!"

A faint flush coloured Neville's cheeks. "I know I keep bringing it up, but… she's so smart, and she never talks down to me. We discussed magical creature rights, her S.P.E.W. efforts, and even some advanced curses Barty Crouch told us about. She made it all sound fascinating. I—"

He hesitated, fiddling with a frayed patch on his robe. "I'd like to ask her out again. Properly this time. But she's often busy with Viktor Krum's library sessions. I can't tell if she's just being kind or if she'd genuinely like to spend time with me."

Harry allowed a beat of thoughtful silence to stretch between them.

'He's so clearly infatuated,' he thought, amused.

"If there's one thing I've learned from being around Fleur," Harry said at last, choosing to take pity on the nervous wreck in front of him, "it's that honesty usually works best. I spent ages worrying about what Fleur might think of me—the so-called half-formed champion of Hogwarts, nowhere near as polished as she is—but that was just needless anxiety. Turns out she has her own worries, and all she really wants is straightforward sincerity."

"So… I should just tell Hermione how I feel?" Neville asked, sounding both hopeful and terrified.

Harry's lips quirked in a reassuring smile. "I think that's exactly what you should do. She's not the sort who'd want a grand spectacle. And you know she respects directness."

Neville let out a breath, straightening a little. "Alright. Next time I see her, I'll muster the nerve."

He glanced at Harry, a hint of mirth entering his eyes. "By the way, you and Fleur have been the subject of endless gossip. Four months in, and you can find people still talking about it here and there."

Harry shrugged, though his cheeks warmed slightly. "Let them talk. We're happy, and that's what matters."

Neville grinned. "I think it's fantastic. You two seem so at ease. There's something… natural about the way you fit together. Almost makes it look easy."

Harry lowered his gaze with a modest smile. "She's Fleur, and I—well, I love her. She's not just a Veela. It's simpler than people think… once you get past all the assumptions."

A moment passed in companionable silence.

Neville cleared his throat, a thoughtful crease forming between his eyebrows. "Have you heard anything about the Quidditch pitch?" he asked.

Harry shook his head. "Not really. Why?"

"Word is it might be dismantled for the final Triwizard Task," Neville said, his voice lowered. "Dean overheard something about a huge setup—a maze, or something even bigger."

Harry's expression darkened. "A complete takedown? That sounds extreme. If it's true, they'd have to rebuild everything for Quidditch to resume."

Neville pressed his lips together in a resigned twist. "We'll know soon enough if the rumours are true."

Harry nodded, releasing a slow breath. "I miss flying. The rush you get from soaring above the stands… nothing quite compares to that feeling of freedom."

They lingered for a moment in the dusty glow of the classroom, and eventually, they gathered themselves and stepped back into the corridor, heading toward the Gryffindor common room.

Harry sensed Neville's nerves, though the boy carried a new resolve in his stride.

He'd be there to support Neville once he finally worked up the courage to approach Hermione, and hopefully, tease them when she'd accept.

Just then, they nearly collided with Colin Creevey, who was hurrying along, his camera swinging from his neck.

Breathless and bright-eyed, Colin blurted, "I've been looking everywhere for you two—almost tripped over someone's toad by the staircase!"

Neville stiffened. "My toad?"

Colin shook his head, pushing a lock of hair from his forehead. "I didn't stop to check, sorry. Anyway, have you heard? They're starting a brand-new Duelling Club! Professors from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, along with Professor Flitwick, are organising it. They're calling it some sort of Tri-School Duelling Exchange. Sounds incredible!"

Harry's curiosity was piqued at once. "A real duelling club, officially sanctioned this time?"

Colin nodded enthusiastically. "Small groups, rotating partners, learning each school's techniques—everything from Durmstrang's silent casting to Beauxbatons' spell choreography. And of course, Flitwick's legendary duelling skills. I'm planning to sign up, take a load of pictures—just hopefully not get hexed in the process."

Neville, still looking worried about the toad situation, mustered a faint smile. "Better watch out before I start hexing you, Colin."

The younger boy laughed nervously and held up his hands in an apologetic gesture. "But really—I'm sure your toad is fine. I only saw it for a second before I hurried off."

Neville closed his eyes briefly, perhaps imagining a new misadventure in tracking down Trevor, but nodded.

Colin, evidently relieved that he wasn't about to be interrogated further, offered a hasty goodbye and dashed away down the corridor.

Harry and Neville watched him go, each thoughtful in his own way—Harry contemplating whether he'd participate in the new Club, and Neville no doubt planning his approach to Hermione.

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Sorry for the delay and the hectic updates, I had an exam today(there's one left).

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Chapter 77: Ascendant Serpent of Light

Chapter 78: Reflection

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Chapter 85: Adorable and Presentable