The news spread through the school with remarkable speed.
Henry's appointment as a Quidditch reserve created a particular kind of stir in the Slytherin common room, not the open cheering and embracing that Gryffindor might have produced, because Slytherins did not celebrate that way.
What mattered in the dungeons was not winning in the abstract, but specifically not losing to Gryffindor. On that measure, the news was welcome.
"Flint finally did something intelligent," said fifth-year Adrian Valentine, leaning back on the best sofa by the fireplace and speaking in a low voice to the person beside him.
He was preparing for his OWLs the following year and generally held the opinion that House Quidditch was a childish distraction, but he was showing unusual interest now. "That Welsh has something about him. My brother said the way he pulled off that rescue in flying class wasn't anything a novice could manage."
"What's even more useful," said Elena Rosier, a fellow fifth-year, taking a sip from a glass she had brought from home and concealed in a compartment in her wardrobe, "is that he saved a Gryffindor. Now we have a counter-narrative: a Slytherin student risked real injury to help a student from a rival House, while Gryffindor is busy celebrating their Seeker catching a glass ball."
Valentine raised an eyebrow. "When did you get so sharp about these things, Elena?"
"My father mentioned it," Rosier said, without particular emphasis. "Certain people at the Ministry have been paying attention to the Muggle royal family lately. If this Wells is what people are saying he is, some of our old assumptions may be worth reconsidering."
"Our assumptions," Valentine said, his tone edged with scepticism. "He may be some kind of heir in Muggle society, but he can't expect to walk into Slytherin and behave like a king."
On the other side of the fireplace, the first-year group was rather less measured in its enthusiasm.
"I knew he'd manage it," Draco said, with the pride of someone who had personally arranged the whole thing. "Flint isn't a fool, he knows who's actually worth his time. Prince Henry isn't just a capable flyer. He thinks differently."
Pansy, absently smoothing her cat's fur without looking up, said, "The point isn't simply that he's on the team. It's how he got there. Flint's approval, his acknowledgement of actual talent, that means he earned it. Not through connections. Through performance."
Daphne, glancing up from her Potions text, added quietly, "And he was careful about it. He's listed as a reserve who may not play this season at all. That gives him a position without overreaching. Rather unlike some people." She let her gaze drift, with notable intention, toward the general direction of Gryffindor Tower.
Crabbe and Goyle had been following the conversation with partial attention, more meaningfully occupied with a plate of chocolate chip biscuits acquired from the kitchens.
For them, Henry's new status as a reserve player carried one practical implication: on days when they came to watch practice at the pitch, they might reasonably ask Henry to arrange some additional refreshments from the house-elves.
They had observed that he had a particular understanding with the kitchens.
In the girls' dormitory, Millicent Bulstrode was practising a hair-curling charm in front of the mirror while conducting her own analysis.
"Did anyone notice the marks on his wrists from the flying lesson?" she said, watching a strand of hair coil into a neat curl. "Nearly faded now, but they must have hurt considerably. He didn't make a sound."
"My uncle works at St Mungo's," another girl offered in a quieter voice. "He says catching someone in a freefall with your bare hands can easily cause ligament sprains or fractures. Henry must have used some kind of cushioning charm, or his control in the air is precise enough to have absorbed most of the impact himself."
"Either way," Millicent concluded, with the finality of someone delivering a verdict, "it shows he's not simple."
The most considered commentary came from the corner of the common room, where a Wizard's Chess board was in progress.
Gemma Farley was playing against Terence Higgs, another Slytherin prefect. Her king had just taken his castle, though she appeared to have very little investment in the game itself.
"What's your read on it?" Higgs asked, advancing his bishop.
Farley tapped her fingers lightly against one of her pieces. "Professor Snape's decision was well-judged. It answers Professor McGonagall's exception without publicly mirroring it, and it keeps things flexible. Henry will probably not play in a competitive match this season unless something forces the issue."
"Training changes things, though," Higgs said. "Flint won't carry a player who isn't worth the practice time. If Henry is genuinely what the rumours suggest—"
"Then next year Slytherin may have a Seeker who can actually challenge for the position," Farley continued. "That matters. Potter's father was a significant obstacle for Slytherin in his time. History has a way of repeating itself if you allow it to."
Higgs laughed. "You're starting to sound like the Headmaster, Gemma."
"I'm stating facts," Farley said, and moved her queen. "Checkmate."
The atmosphere in the Great Hall at breakfast the following morning had a different quality to it.
At the Gryffindor table, Harry was receiving alternating shoulder-pats from Fred and George Weasley.
"Well done, Harry!" one of them said, loudly enough for the neighbouring tables to hear. "You've successfully given those Slytherins a proper sense of urgency!"
"Now they've gone and found a first-year to match you!" the other added. "Although, seriously, can that Welsh fellow actually fly? We heard he saved Neville?"
Neville, seated a little further along, turned approximately the colour of his Remembrall. "He did," he said, quietly. "I had absolutely no control of the broom at all. If he hadn't come up when he did, I think I would have broken something. Or worse."
"According to Hogwarts: A History," Hermione interjected, looking up from her stack of textbooks and pushing her hair back, "a student requires a formal recommendation from their Head of House to join the House team under exceptional circumstances. Professor McGonagall vouched for Harry, and Professor Snape has apparently vouched for His Highness Henry. Neither case is without precedent in principle, but together they do establish an interesting one."
Ron worked his way through a sausage. "Never mind the precedent. I just want to know how well he actually flies. Malfoy has been going on about him as though they've discovered a second Merlin."
"I've seen coverage of the royal family before," Hermione said, returning to her analysis with characteristic momentum. "Members of the family undergo serious equestrian training from a young age, and equestrianism demands much the same combination of balance and spatial awareness as broomstick flying. His Highness Henry may genuinely have a meaningful advantage because of it."
+++++++
Drop those powerstones and let's get a better ranking this week....
Early chapters: p*treon.com/palevolt100