Teen Wolf at Hogwarts

Full story at:

patreon.com/FanFictionPremium

***

- Oh, Great One, have mercy,' Scott pleaded with the merciless Martin at breakfast.

- No, McCall, I will not. A wish is a wish, my dear. It's hardly a wish, by the way. We've already taken pity on you, how much more? It's just to read a pre-written text. Go on. - Lydia waved her hand and took a small sip of tea.

- Stiles, at least you! - begged poor Scott, shifting his unhappy gaze to his best friend.

- Scotty, Lydia's wish is law. And right now it's the absolute truth. - Stilinski shook his head sympathetically, glaring in the direction of the satisfied Martin.

- Play with you after that. Friends, Merlin be damned. It's humiliating! - Scott muttered, rising from his seat. Stiles patted his friend on the shoulder and stuffed his toast almost all the way down his throat, earning Martin a disapproving look. Coughing, the boy hurriedly swallowed half of the glass of juice, spilling the other half on himself. Lydia, covering her eyes with her hand, whispered something about how such clumsiness should be a criminal offence.

Meanwhile, poor Scott was taking murderously slow steps towards the Slytherin table, cursing at his friends. Jackson and Theo, noticing McCall approaching them, looked at each other perplexed.

- Did we have lion cubs here today? - Cora said wryly, arching her left eyebrow. It was an incredible effort for Scott to hold back his reply. The boy took a deep breath and pulled from the folds of his robe the scroll on which his fiery 'speech' had been written in Lydia's beautifully twisted handwriting. Coughing and rocking from heel to toe, Scott unfolded it, running his eyes over the lines and once again remembering his wonderful best friend.

- Dear snakes. - The boy began, immediately blushing to the tips of his ears. - I'd like to tell you that half of our faculty thinks you're abnormal assholes, not to mention just a few people. Erica, you're a stupid blonde who can't remember the simplest truth. - the boy's voice trembled with either shame or anger. - Jackson, you're just a show-off who can't impress anyone. Ethan, Aidan, we'd better leave you out. Tracy, you're just like Erica, only worse, I think. Theo, no complaints about you. Oh, yes, I do. Raken, you annoy me and I don't trust you, so go to hell. - there's no doubt in anyone's mind who wrote that line. Scott, red as a cancer, turned sharply on his heels and darted towards his faculty table at bullet speed.

Lydia, finishing her tea, was reading the morning paper, and Stiles, sitting next to her, was eating what was probably his fifth piece of toast of the morning. After a quick glance at her friend, Martin gave him a fleeting smile and turned her attention back to her reading. Scott, muttering something unintelligible, grabbed his bag and stormed out of the room. The same thing Isaac, Matt, Allison, and Malia had done fifteen minutes earlier.

- They hate us. - Lydia told her friend in a casual tone.

- If only a little. - Stiles smiled at her.

- Do we have spells? - Martin asked, finishing her tea.

- Yeah. But they're still ten minutes away. - Stiles answered her, looking up at the magical ceiling. It was sunny today, and the sky was completely clear.

- All right, let's go. We should see how they're doing, because Malia took a few bumps while she was running out of the hall, I think. - Lydia said, getting up from her seat and slinging her bag on her shoulder. She tilted her head slightly to the side and adjusted her tie, then pulled up her jumper and adjusted her skirt. Tucking one strand behind her ear, the redhead threw a quick glance in the direction of the still astonished Slytherins and turned, fluffing up her hair, and walked towards the exit of the hall, turning round at the door. - Coming? - She asked the boy, who remained in the same spot. Stiles raised his eyebrows in bewilderment, nodded sharply and hurried after his friend.

***

- Today, my dear students, we will be undergoing light enchantments. If there is time left, perhaps we can have a demonstration practice. - Flitwick squeaked, beginning his lesson. - Who can name me at least a few spells from the light spell section? Yes, Miss Martin. - The Professor nodded habitually.

- Lumos, Lumos Solem, Lumos Maxima and Lumos Duo. - Lydia said without a single hesitation, leaning on the table with one hand and adjusting her skirt with the other. For some reason, Stiles looked away from her friend.

- Very good, Miss Martin, thank you. Stiles, tell me their properties. - asked the professor. The boy, rounding his eyes, slowly stood up.

- What was the question? - whispered Stiles, looking at Scott, who shrugged his shoulders, raising his eyebrows in surprise.

- Mr Stilinski, tell me the properties of the spells listed by your fellow student. - Flitwick arched an eyebrow. Stiles looked at Lydia with a mute plea in his eyes and saw that she was reciting those very spells to him with just her lips.

- So, Lumos. - Stiles began, not taking his eyes off his friend. - This is the simplest and most common illumination spell. It lights a small light at the end of the wand and will remain on until a counterspell is cast. Lumos Solem. - continued the boy. - This spell causes sunlight to shine. It's a little more complicated than regular Lumos, but it gives a lot more light. Lumos Maximus. - Stiles swallowed hard from something. - It lights a fire at the end of the wand and sends it into the distance with a wave of the wand. Finally, Lumos Duo is the most complex of the light spells. It creates a kind of light connection between objects. - Stilinski finished. The boy's gaze was still fixed on his friend smiling lightly at him.

- Thank you, Mr Stilinski. Next time be more careful, please. Let's get to practice, then. - Flitwick said and everyone instantly pulled out their wands.

- Thank you. - Stiles whispered, leaning in close to the redhead's ear.

- You should listen more carefully. - Martin shoved him under the ribs and pulled out her wand.

However, Stiles returned to his normal state quite quickly, and in twenty minutes the boy had completed three out of four tasks. As had Scott and Lydia.

- Going to practice today? - Stilinski leaned over to his best friend's ear so no one could hear their conversation.

- Which one? - Scott arched an eyebrow, trying to concentrate on making a light connection between the inkwell and the pen.

- There's a game this weekend. Ours against the snakes. And Tyler Brook is throwing an open practice. Heather told me he asked as many people as possible to come. He wants to recreate the atmosphere of the game and so on. - Stiles replied, drumming his fingers on the table.

- Why not? We'll see what positions are available for next year. - Scott winked at his friend.

- Done. - chuckled Stiles. - Can we take Mal? And Allison, too. They seem to like flying.

- And Lydia, then. - Scott frowned slightly, waving his wand. The result, unfortunately, was not what the boy had hoped for; instead of a silvery haze, a pillar of light came out of his wand and struck Jackson squarely in the face. Eyes rounded, McCall watched as Whittemore jumped up, rubbing his eyes. Stiles' dying laugh only served to embarrass his friend more.

- Mr McCall, I would ask you to be more careful. - Flitwick stretched out, instantly ending the spell. Blushing, Scott nodded, ignoring his friend's convulsions.

- Unbearable. - Lydia hissed. A few minutes later, a barely perceptible silvery trickle stretched from her textbook to her quill and Flitwick, naturally, couldn't help but score points with his favourite student.

***

- Why did we agree to this? - Lydia wailed, walking across the still-green grass and pulling her robe tighter around her. Even though the sun was shining today, the recent cold weather was still making its presence felt.

- Leeds, don't grumble. You haven't been to a single game this year. - Allison smiled slightly.

- Yes, Argent, and I haven't regretted it to this day. - Lydia hissed.

- You haven't seen our team in action yet, Lyds. Trust me, you're going to love it! - Stiles exclaimed, glancing at his friend in confidence - the boy genuinely didn't understand how anyone could dislike Quidditch.

- Yeah, it's no Moose Joe's Meteors, but still. - Scott interjected.

- Dude, you're still rooting for them? - Stiles asked, raising his eyebrows in amazement. - They were obsolete a hundred years ago!

- Just like Puddlemere United. - The boy made a sour face.

- What?' Stilinski was outraged. - They have twenty-two wins in the national championship!

- And the Meteors have six in the European Cup. - parried Scott. The boys argued about which team was better, and the girls rolled their eyes and laughed at the absurdity of everyone's arguments.

The practice had been going on for about two hours, and it was really crowded. There were even a few people from other faculties (except Slytherin, of course). A few times Malia wished Matt and Isaac could come, but she quickly forgot about it. Despite her scepticism about the situation at first, Lydia got carried away rather quickly and at the end of the practice she was laughing and praising her team's players along with everyone else. When all the fans had left, and Tyler had taken his charges to change, the boys, of course, couldn't resist, and, stealthily taking their brooms, decided to demonstrate their flying skills. And nobody cared that they had already done it five times.

Easily jumping onto the broom, Stiles climbed up to about the distance of the upper rows of the bleachers. The image of his native Lightning, the one he had left under his bed in London, immediately appeared in his mind.

- Yeah, school brooms are something. - Scott stretched out, flying up to his friend on a slightly vibrating broom.

- You're a mind reader, aren't you? - Stiles nodded, trying to steady the Nimbus 1000, which was his own.

- Okay, we'll manage. - Scott jerked his shoulder and swooped down, stopping just before the ground. - She's shaking! - Scott grumbled unhappily, glancing angrily at the ragged Comet.

- Now me. - Stiles gently swept his palm over the shaft of the broomstick, flew up a metre, and, diving, made a loop. Or rather, did is a bit of a mouthful. As soon as the boy tried to turn around its axis, the broom, frantically vibrating, began to loop, almost throwing off its rider. - It's impossible to do anything on it! - Stiles exclaimed, jumping off his broom, trying to avoid hitting the ground.

- That's what I mean. - Scott nodded, looking at the Comet a few metres away.

- Do you want to fly? - came from behind the boys, and they turned round to see Tyler. The blond-haired captain of the Gryffindor team was a fifth year student, wore an earring in his right ear, and in his bright blue eyes you could almost always see a cheerful sparkle. He wasn't particularly strict, but the boys had taken the school property without asking, so you could expect anything. However, the boy's eyes reflected not anger, but some understanding, so the boys looked at each other and sighed in relief.

- Actually, yes, but it's impossible to fly this one. - Stiles nodded toward the brooms.

- That's true. - Brook laughed lightly. - If you want, I can give you my broom. You fly around for a while, and I'll see what you can do. - Tyler held out his Silver Arrow to Stiles and winked at the boys. - And we'll find you one. - Brook patted Scott on the shoulder and walked towards the bleachers where the girls were sitting. - Hey, Pete, give me your broom. Those boys over there want to fly, and you know the properties of school brooms. - addressed the captain to his trapper, Peter Korper, who had apparently decided to see what the boys were up to.

- No problem. - Peter nodded to his friend and handed him his Typhoon and looked at Scott and Stiles standing side by side. Handing Scott the vehicle, Brooke easily swung over the railing on the bleachers and sat down next to Peter.

- Come on. - Tyler shouted to the boys, folding his arms in a holler.

- Who's first? - Scott asked, smiling at his friend.

- If you want, I can. - Stiles shrugged and saddled his broom, soaring into the air.

The difference was enormous - Tyler's Silver Arrow obeyed his every move, flying exactly as it should. Smiling, Stiles repeated the trick he'd tried a few minutes ago, only this time he succeeded. Coming out of a steep dive near the ground, the boy, laughing, flew up to his friend and gave him a high-five.

- One zero. - Scott winked at his friend and, dodging a backhand, soared into the air.

Having risen to a height of about six or seven metres, the boy looked around. The sun was already slipping towards the horizon, and the topmost towers of the castle were already flooded with bright red light. Drawing in air, Scott glanced down. Malia and Lydia were talking, leaning toward each other, Allison was looking Scott straight in the eye and drumming her hands on her knees, Tyler and Peter were watching him, waiting for him to act, and Stiles was just giving him a thumbs-up. Smiling, Scott gripped the broomstick tighter with his right hand, hooked the toe of his right foot onto the shaft, and lowered his left arm and leg so they were completely relaxed and stretched out.

- Wow, that's MZNP. - Tyler laughed.

- What?' Lydia, sitting next to him, rounded her eyes.

- A starfish on a stick. - Peter decoded it. - It's called a defensive position for goalies. You only have to hold on with one arm and one leg, and the rest of your limbs are relaxed. Anyway, that's what he was doing. - the guy nodded at Scott coming down.

- It's a very difficult position, by the way. - added a clearly impressed Tyler.

- What does this position give you? - Martin asked.

- You can use it to close three rings at once. It's a little hard not to get injured in that position, but it's still effective. - Brooke chuckled as he and Peter entered the field.

- Good job, guys. Next year we'll save a spot on the team for you. - Tyler winked at the boys.

- It was just a warm-up. - Stiles waved his hand.

- I like you guys already. - Peter laughed and slapped Stilinski on the back.

- What if we gave you some balls now? - Brooke asked.

- Come on. - Stiles shrugged.

- Do you just want Quaffle, or do you want Snitch, too? - Peter asked, heading for a nearby chest.

- Snitch it is. Stiles has good reactions. - replied McCall.

- Come on, surprise us more, if that's possible. - smiled Tyler.

- It's possible. - smirked Stiles.

- How are we supposed to play, Ty? We don't have brooms for us. - Peter reminded him.

- Right. - The captain slapped himself on the forehead. - Well, we'll get by on these. - the boy nodded at the school brooms.

- If I die after this, he's the one to blame. - Peter grumbled, throwing his leg over the Comet.

- Right, we need help. Martin, come here, please. - shouted Brook, turning towards the stands.

- What?' Lydia walked over to the suitcase, looking oddly at the brooms.

- 'On the count of three we're obliged to take to the air, so there's no one to throw out the Quaffle. Can you do that? It's a big red ball.

- Don't get smart, I know what it is. - Lydia rolled her eyes and picked up the Quaffle.

- Okay, everybody ready? - Peter.

- On three. One. - Brooke counted down. - Two. Three. - the four brooms soared upward, and Lydia threw the ball into the air and hurried back to her seat.

- Did they let Snitch out? - shouted Stiles.

- Yeah, I did. - Tyler answered him, and grabbed the ball and raced to the rings, where Scott was already circling.

Turning on his axis, Stiles began to climb. Stopping at a height of seven or eight metres, the boy looked around. Because the sun was almost down, it was foolish to hope that Snitch would mark himself with a golden glare. After estimating the approximate area of the tiny ball's flight, Stiles moved forward.

In the meantime, Scott had missed two out of seven balls, complaining that they weren't playing on equal terms. After a quick consultation with Tyler, Peter replaced the boy, sending him to help Brook as a correr, while he took the goalkeeper's position.

- What are you missing, Scotty, huh? - Stiles asked, flying past his best friend.

- I'll be right back. - McCall glittered and raced to catch up.

With a snort, Stiles flew on, not even hoping to fulfil his mission. Suddenly, something small and fast flashed in front of his face. Turning round sharply, Stilinski only had time to notice Snitch descending sharply, and then the tiny ball was just out of sight. Smiling mischievously, the boy abruptly went into a sharp descent, trying to look out for his target at the same time.

While at first he might have thought it would be easy to catch Snitch, after fifteen minutes of non-stop chasing, he was gone. Snitch chased the boy all over the stadium. Sometimes the ball would slow down, but as soon as Stiles got closer, it would speed up, so fast that it was impossible to keep up.

After another five minutes of play, Scott had already scored five goals, but Stiles was still struggling to keep up. Snitch grunted, and with his hands clenched tightly on the broomstick, he sped up as fast as the broomstick model would allow. First Snitch swooped over the bleachers, looping from side to side, then ducked under them, nearly causing Stiles to crash into the beams that supported them, then flew straight up into the rings where the Quaffle was being wrestled. Without a moment's hesitation, the boy rushed to catch up.

At that very moment, Scott, encouraged by his mini-victory, was rushing from the opposite end of the field to where Stiles was going. Only neither knew it yet. Deciding it was time to do something spectacular, Scott flew under Tyler and knocked the Quaffle out of his hands. After pondering for a second, McCall flew towards the rings. The trajectory wasn't the best, but there was no point in retreating. When he was no more than five metres away from Peter circling the rings, Scott tossed the ball into the air and hit it with all the force he could muster, sending it in the right direction.

- Come on! - Stiles hissed, rushing after Snitch. The ball was no more than fifty centimetres from his outstretched fingers. Stilinski stretched forward even more, and reduced that distance to forty. Now it was thirty. Twenty. Stiles frowned with exertion, and stretched his arm forward even more, though he couldn't seem to do it any harder. Now the distance was down to ten centimetres. With nothing left to do, his fingers were already touching the cold metal.

- Stiles! - Lydia's shriek echoed across the field. The boy looked round in bewilderment, but all he could see was genuine horror in his friend's eyes, and the next moment an incredible throbbing pain flared in his chest. Closing his eyes and falling into darkness, Stiles had only time to think that he had caught Snitch after all.