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Harry clenched his fingers around his broom and pulled his cloak tighter around himself with the other. Even though it was almost May, the wind was freezing and it would only get colder the longer the night went and not even the last few rays of the evening sun were around to spend warmth.
All across the mountain top in front of him he could see bonfires being lit, flags and pennants fluttering in the wind, he could hear singing and chanting, interspersed with whip cracks and a more diverse group of magical beings than he'd ever seen in one place. All the hustle and bustle surrounded a huge birch tree, that had been stripped of it's crown and bark and painted with symbols that were vaguely familiar to Harry, from his Ancient Runes class.
Viktor put his hand on his shoulder and squeezed. The teachers had split them into groups of five and given them portkeys that would bring them to the festivities. Usually only students sixteen and older were invited to participate, but the headmistress made an exception for Harry. He didn't know whether it was because he was the Boy Who Lived or because Viktor had asked her to, but he didn't care. His friend had been excited to introduce him to his families' tradition and Harry was excited to participate.
One by one the other students arrived and stood together in one big red-cloaked group until the teachers arrived with the last portkey. The headmistress stepped forward and held a short speech about how they should conduct themselves during the night and where to meet up in the morning to get their return portkey. Then she released them with a flourish of her wand.
Viktor was the first on his broom and in the air, but Harry wasn't far behind. Already he could feel the magic crackling in the air. They swooped upwards, high above the crowd and then turned to circle the May Pole. Some of the other students followed them and they were soon joined by other participants.
When the sun at last sunk behind the horizon, all the bonfires blazed up as one and a shining thread of light shot out of the chests of the flyers, and connected to the top of the Pole. With a laugh Harry lifted his hand to tangle his fingers in the band of light that grew thicker and more substantial by the second. Then his broom tipped to the side without his command and he had to grab the handle tightly with both hands so he wouldn't fall.
The flyers crisscrossed through the sky, weaving a pattern of magic around the May Pole that sunk into the wood. Harry didn't fight the movement, even leaned into the flow of the flight and the magic all around him. The only way he could tell the other students apart from the rest was through their red cloaks fluttering behind them, but he couldn't recognize their faces because of the incredible speed they were going and still there were no collisions.
Underneath them, the bonfires flickered merrily, the other guests were jumping between and over the fires, drinking wine (and other things) or performing their own private rituals. Harry could barely hear the sounds over the rushing of wind in his ears, but he could feel them, magical beings all around him, and so he closed his eyes and basked in the feeling of belonging.