The implications of what had just happened with Malfoy were not lost on Julian. In fact, they made him very decisively rule out one particular future path.
He was not going to play Quidditch.
He had already shown in a single lesson that he had far too much natural talent on a broom. If he joined the team, that skill would inevitably draw the eye of people he did not want watching him yet.
Because professional Quidditch scouts regularly attended Hogwarts matches, quietly tucked away in the stands while they searched for promising young flyers to recruit. With the minimum age for professional play set at sixteen in the wizarding world, schools like Hogwarts were essentially their hunting grounds for fresh talent.
If Julian joined the team, he could tell from this lesson alone that he would probably stand out enough to attract that attention, maybe even end up in the papers as some never before seen prodigy.
He did not mind gaining a reputation inside Hogwarts as a talented student or craftsman. That he could control. But having the entire wizarding world turn its gaze on him? That would drag in problems and expectations he was not remotely ready to deal with.
It sucks, because the sport looks fun, he thought, a little wistful. But waiting until fourth year before stepping into the public eye sounds like the smarter move.
Madam Hooch officially ended the flying lesson after the second "accident," clearly worried that if she kept going something else would happen.
Their next class was Astrology, which confused Julian at first. He wondered why in Merlin's name they were studying stars in broad daylight. The answer came shortly after Professor Aurora Sinistra began the lesson.
"Welcome to Astrology," she said, standing tall at the front of the room. "I am Professor Sinistra. For those of you wondering why this class is held so early in the day, the answer is simple. If we began by observing the heavens directly, very few of you would have any idea what you were actually seeing."
"Therefore, until such time as I deem you adequately versed in the knowledge required to understand the sky above, you will begin by memorizing certain essential details. This schedule will change once you meet my standard, so I suggest you do your best."
Her tone was calm, matter of fact, no nonsense.
It came as absolutely no surprise that this kind of rote learning was exactly where Hermione shone. She devoured the information like a sponge, quill racing as she wrote down every word she could.
Julian had very little trouble with the material either, though he found the sheer amount of it somewhat brutal. Sinistra tried to push an impressive quantity of facts into their heads in a single hour, and by the time she wrapped up, more than a few students were clutching their temples.
He did not mind the content. It was interesting enough. The headache was less charming.
Class ended at 10:15, and they were dismissed to go grab lunch before their first Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson.
Harry had missed most of Astrology, having been whisked off by McGonagall after the flying incident, but since he was literally escorted by the professor, he was excused, aside from needing to borrow someone's notes later.
"What happened after she dragged you off?" Ron asked at lunch, leaning in, curiosity all over his face. A few others leaned closer as well, eager to hear it.
Nobody brought up the argument he and Julian had had a couple of days earlier, preferring to leave it buried.
Harry did not mind returning the favor, so long as Ron did not kick off the same nonsense again. After getting to know Daphne and Tracey a bit, he agreed with Julian that house alone meant very little. They were Slytherins, yes, but they were also obviously good people and real friends.
Julian had a nagging suspicion that fate was quietly working to rebuild the golden trio, and he decided firmly not to interfere. It helped that he was fairly sure Ron could turn out decently enough with Harry's influence over time.
That just leaves the last member of the party, he thought, flicking a brief glance at the bushy haired girl in question.
Harry explained how McGonagall had more or less press ganged him into the Gryffindor Quidditch team after seeing his flying. He talked about being marched straight to the captain and being tested on the spot instead of being lectured or punished.
Ron was blatantly jealous, but he was also genuinely happy for Harry and congratulated him.
Julian joined in, clapping Harry lightly on the shoulder and grinning. "Congratulations, Chosen One of the Quidditch pitch," he joked. "Word is, your new captain is kind of infamous for his training regime."
"What do you mean?" Harry asked, a little uneasy.
"Apparently he runs the team into the ground to squeeze every advantage he can out of them," Julian said with a quiet chuckle. "You will find out soon enough."
The horror that slid onto Harry's face was almost enough to make him choke on his pumpkin juice.
...
After lunch, the Gryffindor and Slytherin first years headed together up to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom.
The instant they stepped inside, almost every student pulled a face.
The air was thick with the overpowering reek of garlic and incense. It clung to the back of their throats, mingling in a way that made it hard to decide if it was meant to ward off vampires or fumigate the room.
Strange trinkets and charms hung around the room, the sort of superstitious nonsense one might expect to find in a paranoid hunter's shack rather than a classroom.
Professor Quirrell stood at the front, pale and plain, with a thick purple turban wrapped firmly around his head. His expression was the familiar, nervous one everyone recognized, mouth twitching, body language jittery.
Julian, however, knew better.
The man was not truly nervous. His act was good, but there was one thing he could not quite mask.
His eyes.
Quirrell's eyes tracked each student who entered, sharp and focused, appraising and measuring every single one of them. There was nothing timid about that gaze.