Harry Potter : Bloodraven-Chapter 132: Summer’s Glow to Autumn’s Chill (I) (CH - 152)

Maverick spent the rest of the day combing through the mountains of lost items that had been stashed away in the Room of Hidden Things—though "room" was a generous word for something that stretched endlessly in all directions. Judging by the dust and disarray, the collection had been building up for a century, if not centuries. Even after hours of searching, he had barely scratched the surface.

But that wasn't a bad thing at all. In fact, it was rather exciting. Even in the small fraction he managed to sift through, he found more than a few treasures buried among the rubbish.

There were old textbooks with handwritten notes in the margins—some clearly belonging to students, others to long-retired professors. He found several worn Prefect badges, one even dating all the way back to the 1800s, and an old enchanted chessboard whose pieces, though dusty and confused, still twitched under the influence of long-forgotten spells.

And then there were the broomsticks. Dozens of them, tossed aside like broken toys. Most were in pieces, but one in particular caught his eye—not because of its elegance, but because of how utterly awful it looked. At first glance, he thought it was just an old cleaning broom, and not a very good one at that. It was stubby, crooked, and fraying at the tail.

But when he leaned in for a closer look, he noticed an inscription burned into the handle: Spudmore's First Flight – 14th Century.

His eyebrows rose.

Spudmore—one of the earliest broom-makers, and an alchemist of questionable brilliance—had been infamous for putting theory above practicality. A brief scan of the enchantments told Maverick everything he needed to know. The broom had no stabilisation charms, no braking mechanisms, and no enchantments for wind resistance. Riding it must have felt like strapping yourself to a stick and leaping off a roof. It would have been a miracle if anyone managed to walk away from a single game without broken bones or worse.

Maverick grinned and turned the broom in his hands. To most, it was junk. But to a collector, or a Quidditch enthusiast—it would be a treasure among treasures. He tucked it away in his expanded storage space, along with a few other choice finds, then glanced at his watch.

It was well past dinner.

"No sense in overdoing it," he muttered, stretching his arms and letting out a quiet sigh. The room's not going anywhere.

He planned to return again, of course. Perhaps at a slower pace, picking through the forgotten artefacts little by little until the year's end. For now, though, it was time to head back.

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The days that followed passed without much excitement. Classes carried on as usual, but Maverick noticed a steady stream of students seeking him out—not only for help with his own subject, but with questions from Charms, Transfiguration, and even Potions.

He suspected they were taking advantage of his easygoing nature, slipping in extra help where they could. Still, he didn't outright turn them away.

For those bringing work from other professors, he offered guidance where he could, but always added a gentle reminder to speak with their actual teachers next time. Even so, word seemed to spread, and more kept coming. He didn't mind, really. If anything, he found it rather interesting.

By the second weekend of the term, the excitement returned. Quidditch tryouts had begun—and this year, the buzz around the Hogwarts All-Stars was louder than ever.

Thanks to the experience from the previous year, Maverick and Coach Steven managed to run the selection process smoothly, finishing all trials within two days. As expected, most of the starting players from last year held onto their positions. A few members of the bench team weren't so lucky, and with several spots left vacant, the final line-up saw quite a few new faces.

The 1992-1993 Hogwarts All-Stars team featured a strong roster:

Marcus Flint and Oliver Wood as captains—Flint playing Seeker and Wood guarding the hoops as Keeper.

The Chasers: Cedric Diggory, Roger Davies, and Adrian Pucey, each of them sharp, confident, and fast.

As Beaters, Michael McManus and Maxine O'Flaherty earned their spots with sheer power and precision.

Harry Potter, unsurprisingly, secured the role of reserve Seeker. Some argued he was better suited for the main team already, but Steven stood firm in his decision.

The Weasley twins made it in too—Fred and George, grinning from ear to ear, joined as reserve Beaters. Their natural talent on a broom was undeniable, even if their sense of discipline left something to be desired. Steven promised they'd see playtime during the tournament.

There was, however, one drawback to being selected. Players chosen for the All-Stars were not allowed to take part in the regular inter-house Quidditch competition. The decision came from Coach Steven himself, to avoid injuries and exhaustion, and while some grumbled, they all respected his authority. Still, if Hogwarts were to be eliminated early, the All-Stars would be allowed to return to house matches.

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Beyond the Quidditch buzz, another matter was beginning to stir among the students.

It had to do with Professor Lockhart.

At first, the novelty of being taught by a celebrity wizard hadn't worn off. He swept into lessons with dazzling smiles and tales of his exploits, often acting out dramatic re-enactments of his books using props and the occasional volunteer.

But as the weeks dragged on, students began to notice a pattern—he wasn't actually teaching them anything. A lesson on defensive spells would turn into a reading of Holidays with Hags. A session on counter-curses would veer off into a monologue about his award for Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile.

And then came the accidents.

When Lockhart attempted to show his class how to vanish a stack of quills, he made the table disappear instead—along with half of someone's homework. During a lesson on handling a Doxy infestation, he confidently swung open a covered cage—only to reveal it was full of Bundimuns, which promptly melted through two desks before anyone could react. After a while, even his most devoted fans started to whisper doubts.

Yet, curiously, nothing official was said. No changes were made. It was as though the school had decided to turn a blind eye.

Maverick had not brought the matter up either—not yet. First, he needed proper evidence to prove the man was a fraud. It was better to wait until after the first round of the inter-school tournament. When the time came, he would speak to Professor McGonagall.