Chapter 28

[Chapter Size: 1700 Words.]

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The arrival of the Remembrall did nothing to improve Neville's situation.

As he had said, he had no idea what he had forgotten. The Remembrall was useless, it only added to his psychological pressure.

Fortunately, that pressure never truly weighed on Neville, as he frequently forgot to even look at the Remembrall.

Thursday arrived in the blink of an eye, and in the afternoon, I had flying lessons with the Slytherins.

Although Harry was deeply interested in Quidditch, he wasn't particularly thrilled about having lessons with the Slytherin students. The thought of being outperformed by Draco in front of his classmates, especially girls like Parvati, made him uneasy.

He had done exceptionally well in almost every class so far, and the idea of failing in front of everyone didn't sit well with him.

Ron and Neville felt just as anxious, though for them, it was mostly nerves.

However, when they actually prepared for the lesson, the three of them felt slightly less nervous. They realized they weren't the only ones on edge, most of the students, including many Slytherins, looked uneasy.

When you're heading to a class with no prior experience, it's natural to feel nervous. But if you notice that everyone else is just as clueless, it's oddly reassuring.

In particular, seeing Hermione, who had excelled in nearly every subject that morning, biting her lips so anxiously that they had turned pale immediately eased the tension for Harry and Ron.

The young wizards chatted among themselves as they walked through the castle corridors and made their way to the Quidditch pitch.

To their surprise, they discovered that even students from wizarding families rarely flew on broomsticks. And for those who had, their past experiences weren't exactly reassuring.

The only exception was Draco. But as Harry quickly realized, Draco was all talk, and not exactly a reliable source of information.

The Gryffindor and Slytherin groups met at the castle gates.

"Hey, Scarhead! Today, I'll show you how real wizards fly." Draco spotted Harry in the crowd and announced smugly.

"Pray to Merlin for protection so you don't fall off your broom. And even if you do, make sure your face doesn't hit the ground, otherwise, it'll be ruined. I can't imagine how many people would be heartbroken."

As he spoke, Draco glanced at the Gryffindor girls.

Parvati Patil, Sally-Anne Perks, and Isabelle McDougall glared at him with anger. But Draco, with his oversized ego and insufferable smirk, didn't seem to care, in fact, he looked rather pleased with himself.

Harry thought to himself, "Who does this little brat think he's talking to? Am I just some pretty face to him?"

Without missing a beat, he shot back, "I'm not worried about myself, but you, on the other hand, better be careful. You wouldn't want to fall off and run crying to your mother. How would she comfort you then? Kiss your little cheeks and call you her darling?"

"You!" Draco's usually pale face turned even whiter as he glared at Harry.

Draco took great pride in his family and often boasted about his parents. Hearing him do it yet again, Harry smirked and said sarcastically, "You always hide behind your parents, don't you?" Then, before Draco could respond, he added, "Go home, hug your mum, and have a good cry."

It was an unspoken routine, Draco called Harry "Scarhead" and mocked him for his fame, and Harry threw his insults right back at him.

Luckily for Harry, Draco, who had obviously never interacted with Muggles, had no idea what sissy meant.

The Gryffindor and Slytherin students exchanged sharp looks but didn't stop walking. Soon, they arrived at the grassy field beside the Quidditch stadium.

Twenty flying broomsticks were already laid out in neat rows on the ground.

They were old and battered, with twigs sticking out at odd angles, completely different from the sleek, polished brooms Harry had seen in the shop window at Diagon Alley.

Over the past few days, Harry had consulted Fred and George and learned that the brooms used for lessons at Hogwarts were from the very first batch ever purchased. And what did that mean?

Well, Hogwarts had introduced flying lessons about six hundred years ago.

These brooms wobbled if they went too high and veered off course if they moved too fast. This was why every member of the Quidditch team had their own broom.

Of course, not all of these brooms belonged to individuals. Many had been left behind by former students who hadn't bothered to take them home.

Despite Draco's usual arrogance, he wasn't reckless enough to disobey the teacher. Since Madam Hooch hadn't arrived yet, he didn't dare touch the brooms.

But judging by the way he fidgeted, scratching his ears and cheeks, it was clear he was struggling to hold back.

Amid the tension and anticipation of Draco and the other students, Madam Hooch finally arrived on the training grounds, exactly one minute before the lesson was scheduled to begin.

Madam Hooch was a witch who, at first glance, brought to mind words like capable and bold.

She had short, graying hair and piercing yellow eyes, as sharp as an eagle's. Her appearance was far from beautiful, but she exuded a heroic presence. Her thick eyebrows, in particular, gave her an air of authority.

Her skin was slightly tanned, a healthy, sun-kissed tone that suggested she preferred being outdoors rather than cooped up in an office.

"Good afternoon, children," Madam Hooch greeted them energetically.

"Good afternoon, Madam Hooch!" the students replied in unison.

"Well? What are you all waiting for? Move!" she called out cheerfully. Unlike Professor McGonagall, whose voice wasn't loud yet always commanded attention, Madam Hooch's voice was truly booming:

"Everyone, stand beside your broomsticks, quickly, quickly, let's go!"

The students scrambled into position, hastily lining up next to their brooms.

"Stand on the right side of your broom if you're left-handed, and on the left if you're not," Madam Hooch instructed.

A few students adjusted their positions, but it turned out that none of them were left-handed.

"Now, extend your dominant hand over your broom," she continued. Once all the students followed her instructions, she commanded, "Say, 'Up!'"

"Up!" Harry growled.

To his surprise, the broom on the ground immediately leaped into his hand.

However, finding a broom as obedient as Harry's was rare. Hermione's merely rolled on the ground, while Neville's didn't budge an inch.

Most of the students' brooms gave a small jump but didn't rise high enough to reach their hands. Only five other students managed to have their brooms soar directly into their palms:

Draco Malfoy, Pansy Parkinson, Daphne Greengrass, Blaise Zabini, and Ron Weasley.

"Wow, Harry, did you see that?" Ron exclaimed, staring at his broom in shock and disbelief.

But no one looked more astonished than Hermione. Judging by the expression on her face, Harry imagined she was having a full-on existential crisis.

"Brilliant!" Harry immediately gave his friend the most enthusiastic praise. At the same time, he couldn't help but glance over at the Slytherin side.

It had to be said, most Slytherins came from old wizarding families, giving them a natural advantage in this lesson. Four of their students had successfully summoned their brooms on the first try, while only two Gryffindors had managed the same.

Madam Hooch walked among the students, offering guidance. "Put some feeling into it! Let the broom sense your emotions, make it understand that you are the master."

After hearing her instructions, most students managed to get their brooms to bounce, except for Hermione and Neville.

Hermione's broom continued rolling around on the ground like a stubborn cat, refusing to rise. Meanwhile, Neville's voice trembled, clearly, his broom could sense that he wasn't confident in his own command.

Madam Hooch, of course, had seen this sort of thing before. She stepped forward to inspect the two brooms, confirming that there was nothing wrong with them. Then, she gave Hermione and Neville a few words of encouragement before asking them to try again.

Maybe it was Madam Hooch's reassuring presence, or maybe the brooms finally recognized their true owners. Either way, both Hermione and Neville's brooms obediently leaped into their hands this time.

Next, Madam Hooch began demonstrating the proper way to mount a broom and execute basic maneuvers, how to keep one's center of gravity stable and avoid plummeting headfirst into the ground.

She was clearly an exceptionally experienced flyer. Her explanations were thorough, including helpful tips that immediately made things click for Harry. After listening to her, he felt as if he had gained a much clearer understanding of how to fly.

When he finally sat on his broom, following Madam Hooch's instructions, he made an amusing discovery.

There was an invisible cushioning charm on the broom, ensuring a more comfortable ride. So, thankfully, he wouldn't have to worry about, well, certain discomforts he had feared before. He instantly felt more at ease.

Compared to most students, who were still struggling to familiarize themselves with their brooms, Draco Malfoy seemed far more confident. It was obvious this wasn't his first time flying.

However, Madam Hooch quickly noticed several flaws in his technique.

"Mr. Malfoy! Where on earth did you pick up such terrible habits? Do not grip the broomstick like that! You'll lose your balance far too easily."

Draco's face fell as he noticed Harry and Ron across from him, both grinning with barely contained laughter.

"Harry, look at Malfoy's face! Hahaha, I can't, this is too funny!" Ron cackled, laughing so hard he nearly lost his balance.

Harry couldn't stop laughing either. After all Draco's boasting, this was the result?

At that moment, Harry felt that the lesson was going smoothly and that there wouldn't be any unexpected surprises.

And then, of course, something unexpected did happen.

******

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