Chapter 514: This is a Real Flying Broomstick

There was no mistaking it—this level had been designed by Durmstrang. Bludgers, Golden Snidgets... everything about this challenge screamed that it was tailor-made for Krum. And what's more, it was the kind of challenge that didn't even require much acting on his part. It seemed to have been designed with him in mind from the start.

And then there was the broom.

Kyle reached out and grabbed the broom that was hovering nearby.

It was new, its surface gleaming with a protective layer of wax, but as soon as he lifted it, Kyle was taken aback by its weight. The broom felt almost as if it were made of stone. It was heavy, far heavier than any broom he had ever used. The Firebolt was a feather compared to this, and even the school's Comet 260 felt lighter by comparison.

He glanced at the end of the handle and saw a small line of gold text: Cleansweep One.

Kyle blinked in disbelief. The first broom in the Cleansweep series, a product that was over seventy years old. No wonder it felt so outdated. It was practically an antique. It was a challenge even for the Ministry of Magic to find these old brooms, and they were a rare sight even in the Room of Requirement's thrift shop. After all, this model had long since been replaced by the Cleansweep Seven in Diagon Alley's Quidditch shop.

Despite its age, Kyle couldn't help but admire the craftsmanship. The Cleansweep series was known for its durability, and even though this broom was slow and cumbersome to turn, it still had the stability you'd expect from a well-made broom.

With a sigh, Kyle took a few steps forward and reached the edge of the cliff.

To be honest, the sight of twenty-nine Bludgers whizzing through the air in a chaotic dance was rather spectacular. The Bludgers moved in erratic patterns, their low hums vibrating through the air. As for the Golden Snidget, it had only made a brief appearance before vanishing, the glimmering creature gone in an instant.

"Well, let's give it a try," Kyle muttered to himself.

He mounted the Cleansweep One and gave it a gentle kick.

The broom slowly lurched into the air, creaking with the effort. The Cleansweep was sturdy, but slow—far too slow for Kyle's usual standards. He was used to the swift responsiveness of his Nimbus 2000, and this heavy broom felt like trying to steer a ship. But there was no time to adjust. The Bludgers had already noticed him.

With a rapid increase in speed, the Bludgers, which had been flying in random patterns, suddenly locked onto their new target—Kyle. From all sides, they veered toward him, filling the sky with their rapid movement. They were blocking nearly every direction, a relentless barrage of whirring, angry balls.

Thinking quickly, Kyle pulled sharply on the broom's reins and yanked it around, steering it back toward the only safe ground—the platform. He barely managed to land, his feet touching the one-foot radius of solid ground just as the Bludgers scattered. They no longer followed him, and the space above him cleared.

Now, Kyle had a clear understanding of the situation: This was a unique kind of Seeker training. He was supposed to catch the Golden Snidget, but the challenge wasn't just finding the Snidget—he had to do it while avoiding the deadly onslaught of twenty-nine Bludgers. And the only safe place in this entire level was the tiny platform beneath his feet.

Kyle walked to the edge and peered down. He couldn't see the bottom, but judging by how far the ground was receding below him, it had to be hundreds of feet. A fall from this height would be fatal, no question about it.

Of course, Kyle knew the school would have safety measures in place to protect the Champions, but he wasn't so sure they would go as far as to prevent him from being disqualified for failing to complete the task. If he couldn't score, this task might be over before it really even began.

...

"Luckily, they set an Age Line," Ron said, letting out a sigh of relief as he stared at Kyle's precarious position on the platform. Turning to Harry, he added, "If I ended up where Kyle is right now... I'd probably just stand there until the game ended."

Even from the safety of the stands, Ron could feel his legs trembling at the mere thought of standing on that tiny platform above what seemed like a bottomless pit.

"Yeah…" Harry nodded in agreement. He enjoyed Quidditch and didn't mind flying fifty feet above the ground under normal circumstances, but this was far from normal. Watching Kyle soar over a 10,000-foot cliff while dodging dozens of Bludgers was a completely different story. Harry knew he'd never have the courage to even take off in such a situation.

Just then, Hermione's shout pulled their attention back to Kyle.

"Oh, look! Kyle's thrown his broom down!"

Harry's head snapped away from Fleur, who had been standing frozen on her platform ever since nearly falling off earlier, and back to Kyle. Sure enough, Kyle had placed the Cleansweep One aside, letting it lie there on the platform.

"What's going on? Is he giving up?" Ron asked, frowning.

"Definitely not," Hermione said with certainty. "He must have thought of another way."

She was right. Kyle had indeed come up with a new plan. In fact, he had more than one. This challenge, though daunting, was actually simpler than the first level—as long as he could conquer his fear of heights.

After all, this was the Triwizard Tournament, not Quidditch. Magic was allowed, and with the right spells, Kyle could theoretically destroy all the Bludgers and search for the Golden Snidget without any obstacles. But that method would likely cost him points, and Kyle preferred a more elegant solution. The Cleansweep One's sluggish performance only solidified his decision.

Raising his wand, Kyle cast a Summoning Charm.

"Firebolt, Accio!"

The air buzzed faintly, and moments later, a distant whirring sound grew louder. The Firebolt that Sirius had given Kyle came streaking toward the Quidditch Pitch, circling the field before stopping in mid-air beside him. The sleek, polished broom hovered confidently next to Kyle, radiating an aura of unmatched speed and precision.

The crowd erupted into cheers. Bagman's voice boomed over the noise, though his exact words were lost to Kyle in the commotion.

Kyle mounted the Firebolt and took off gracefully. The difference was immediate. The Firebolt was leagues ahead of the Cleansweep in both design and performance, responding seamlessly to Kyle's every thought. Riding it felt natural, as though the broom were an extension of his body. Compared to this, the Cleansweep One was better suited for display in a museum.

Kyle spun through the air effortlessly, testing the Firebolt's agility. Before he realized it, he had already flown beyond the platform's edge.

The Bludgers reacted instantly.

But this time, Kyle didn't care. He lifted his hands slightly, and the Firebolt surged upward, carrying him away from the incoming barrage. Moving with the grace of a swift, Kyle wove between the Bludgers, dodging their erratic movements with ease.

Bagman's voice rang out again, filled with excitement. "What a magnificent move! He dodged an almost certain hit with a flawless backward dive! And now—a diagonal flight... incredible! I never thought I'd see a Hogwarts student flying with such finesse. He should join a professional team—he'd be perfect for England in the next Quidditch World Cup!"

The stands erupted with even louder cheers, accompanied by the crackle of fireworks exploding in the sky. The judges' reactions were equally telling. Karkaroff's face darkened with frustration, his expression grim. In contrast, Dumbledore was positively beaming. The Hogwarts headmaster clapped enthusiastically, clearly delighted with Kyle's performance.

Not content to enjoy the moment alone, Dumbledore turned to Karkaroff, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "Karkaroff, do you have any recommendations for teams?"

"What?" Karkaroff blinked, clearly distracted by the display.

"I mean," Dumbledore continued, his tone conversational, "if the boy is interested in joining a professional team, it would be a wise choice. Bagman is right—England hasn't made it to the Quidditch World Cup finals in a long time." He smiled warmly. "But I must admit, I'm not an expert on the subject. That's why I'm asking for your input. If I recall correctly, you spent nearly a year scouting teams with Viktor, didn't you?"

Karkaroff's goatee twitched under Dumbledore's pointed gaze.

Madam Maxime, standing nearby, tilted her head in curiosity. She had heard whispers about Karkaroff's extensive efforts to promote Krum, but she hadn't realized the extent of it.

The implication was clear: Krum had fallen behind in his studies to focus on professional Quidditch, and now he would have to delay his graduation.

"There was no other way," Karkaroff muttered, his fingers nervously twirling his goatee. He glanced at Maxime's increasingly amused expression. "Viktor is extraordinarily talented. As headmaster, it's my duty to help him find the most suitable team."

"Headmaster's duty?" Maxime's eyes gleamed with barely concealed contempt, her lips twitching as though she wanted to laugh. But she said nothing further, merely turning her attention back to Fleur on the field.