Jack burst into the Gryffindor common room, taking the stairs to the dormitory three at a time. He had just enough time to change and get down to the pitch.

  Flying would help, he told himself as he pounded back down the stairs with broom in hand. Flying always helped.

  Even if he had to fly right past Ravenclaw Tower to get there, which he did, but at a much lower altitude this time.

  Jack touched down on the pitch, pulling on his riding gloves with his teeth. He'd made good time flying from the Quad Courtyard, even if he'd had to take the long way around to avoid certain windows.

  Algy was already standing under the Gryffindor stands with a clipboard in his hand and a gaggle of first-years and other aspirants around him. He looked like a pre-war gentleman out for a leisurely ride in his long crimson duster, gold knee socks, leather helmet, and goggles.

  Henry and the rest of the team were doing warm-up laps overhead. The other three houses were conducting their own tryouts on their respective sides of the pitch.

  Algy took one look at Jack's broom as he approached and gawked. "Merlin's beard, Semmes, what is that?"

  "Henricus Model B," Jack said self-consciously. He’d expected this reception. “Teddy did mention it’s on the slow side.”

  "That's not a broom, that's a bleeding health hazard." Algy shook his head, then looked up at his orbiting players. "Ravenhurst!”

  Henry broke formation and swooped down next to them, “You called, Algy?”

  Fairburne lowered his voice, “Take our colonial to the equipment shed. Get him Ratburn's old Spitfire."

  "The Stormrider?" Henry's eyes lit up. "That's a proper broom."

  The equipment shed smelled of leather and wood polish. Jack waited in the door while Henry rummaged through the team brooms until he found what he was looking for - a sleek maroon racing broom with swept-back twigs and brass fittings that gleamed despite its age.

  "Ratburn was our star Chaser last year," Henry explained, handling the broom reverently. "Horrible at literally everything else, mind you, but brilliant in the air. He gave this one to the team after he upgraded to a Supermagus Lightning seventh-year. This is a '39 Spitfire. They made them specially for Chasers - balanced for one-handed flying, tight turning radius, favors acceleration over top speed."

  Jack ran his hand along the polished handle. It hummed under his touch, eager to fly. “I like the name,” he said appreciatively.

  “So did the Muggles,” Henry grinned. “Named one of their fighter planes after it.”

  Back on the pitch, Algy had the hopefuls running basic drills. "Right, Semmes! You’ve got the most experience out of this lot. Show these grubs how it's done. Basic weaving pattern, then some passing with Henry."

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  Jack mounted the Spitfire, and immediately knew this was nothing like his old Henricus. The broom responded to the lightest touch, cutting through the air like a knife. He wove through the floating markers Algy had set up, each turn tighter than the last.

  It wasn’t too different from flying in the Ilvermorny Dome, he told himself. At least…in nice weather like this.

  “Not bad,” Fairburne noted. "Let's see what Yank Exploding Hot Potato has taught you.” He pulled out a Quaffle and punted it high into the air.

  Henry rose to meet him, and they began a series of increasingly complex passing drills. Jack was not the fastest straight-line flier, but Quodpot had made him extremely agile after he had adjusted to his new broom. The stability of the Spitfire made everything easier. Jack could grip the broom with his knees, leaving both hands free for catching and throwing. Years of Quopro had given him good aim, and he had a wickedly fast baseball-style sidearm that surprised the other players.

  "Wild," Algy mused, watching Jack's technique. "But effective. Let’s see how you fare in a fight. Bludgers out boys!"

  The real test came with the full-team scrimmage. Jack found himself working with Henry and a fourth-year boy named Brian Hawke, while Oliver kept goal and Teddy aimed Bludgers their way. It wasn't perfect - Jack still reverted to his old habits, trying to force the Quaffle in a pass after he felt that he'd been holding it for too long - but flying was flying, and after a few tries something clicked.

  He caught a pass from Henry and wove nimbly through the defense. Then he barrel rolled to avoid a Bludger and put the Quaffle around Oliver through the left hoop with a neat backhand throw.

  They scored six times in ten minutes. Oliver was cursing under his breath by the third.

  Todd Brock the Seeker sat on a conjured chair and drank ginger beer until Algy yelled at him and set him off chasing a practice Snitch.

  Pal Hitchens tried out for Seeker, crashed his broom into the stands, and was ordered to the sidelines crying.

  Finally, Algy called them all down. The sun was setting, casting long shadows across the pitch. Jack tried to look confident as the captain consulted his notes.

  "Right then. Starting Chasers this year: Ravenhurst, myself, and... Semmes." Algy fixed Jack with a stern look. “You're Number Three Chaser. Ravenhurst, you move up to striker. Hawke, Morton – you're reserves. For the rest of you, sorry, please try out again next year."

  The disappointment of the first-years especially was palpable, but Jack was too relieved to feel guilty as Henry and the others slapped his back and collegially welcomed him to the team.

  "You’re good, Semmes, but still progress to be made. Work on those corners,” Algy said. “And for Merlin's sake, stop holding the Quaffle like it's about to blow up. This isn't Salem bloody Stadium."

  "Gotham Park," Jack corrected, “I’m a Giants fan.”

  "Same country." Algy waved him off and turned to the rest of the team. "First practice Saturday morning before breakfast. Do not be late! Oh and Semmes,” he pulled Jack aside. “Take the Spitfire back with you. You need to get used to it.”

  As they headed back to the castle, Jack felt better than he had all week. Henry and the others were already talking tactics for their first match against Hufflepuff.

  For a moment, Jack almost forgot about everything else - homework, the suspicion, the complicated mess he had found himself in.

  "Come on," Henry said as a red-headed Ravenclaw hove in view on the path to the pitch. "Let's get you back before Ludd adds another week of detention for busting your gate."