The First Flight

Zephyr sat in the Great Hall, idly poking at his breakfast while Ron shoveled food into his mouth like he was preparing for hibernation. Across from them, Hermione was already absorbed in her morning reading, flipping through a massive book that barely fit on the table.

"Alright, today's the day!" Ron announced between bites. "First flying lesson. Think I'll be any good at it?"

"Depends," Zephyr said, finally taking a bite of toast. "Do you prefer your landings in one piece or scattered over a wide area?"

Ron gave him a flat look. "Thanks for the vote of confidence."

Harry looked a little uneasy. "I've never flown before. My aunt and uncle wouldn't even let me near a broomstick."

Hermione sighed, clearly unimpressed. "Honestly, it's just basic coordination. If you follow instructions, you won't have any issues."

Zephyr smirked. "Hermione, you're treating flying like a test, but brooms don't care how well you recite instructions. It's all instinct."

Ron grinned. "Exactly!"

"Which is why you might struggle," Zephyr added with a smirk.

Ron groaned. "I really should stop talking to you."

As breakfast wrapped up, the Gryffindors made their way to the field where Madam Hooch waited with a dozen broomsticks lined up neatly on the ground. The Slytherins were already there, with Draco Malfoy and his gang of cronies standing off to the side, radiating smugness.

"Alright, everyone stands beside a broom," Madam Hooch instructed. "Extend your hand over it and say, 'Up!'"

Zephyr raised an eyebrow. He extended his palm and casually muttered, "Up."

Immediately, the broom leapt into his hand, almost too fast. The moment his fingers curled around the handle, he felt something strange like the broom was responding too well, as if it were an extension of himself. He frowned slightly. That... was odd.

Around him, Ron was struggling, his broom twitching on the ground but refusing to budge. Harry's broom had jumped into his palm just as easily as Zephyr's. Hermione's wobbled before rising hesitantly, while Neville's just lay there, motionless, as he stared at it in distress.

Draco, of course, was already twirling his broom smugly. "Looks like some people just aren't meant to fly."

"Like your hairline?" Zephyr shot back without missing a beat.

Draco sputtered, caught off guard. "What—?! My hairline is perfect!"

Ron snorted with laughter. Even Harry smirked. Madam Hooch, however, shot them a warning look. "Enough chatting! Now, mount your brooms, push off the ground gently, and hover."

Zephyr did as instructed, but the moment he kicked off, the broom shot into the air faster than expected. He quickly adjusted, steadying himself, but there was no denying that something was off. It wasn't just him being good at this, his control was unnaturally sharp.

The other students gaped at him. His effortless flight, smooth and instinctual, was far beyond what a first year should be capable of.

"Blimey!" Ron whispered. "Did you see that? He moves like a professional!"

The Gryffindors erupted into murmurs of approval, some even clapping. Even Hermione, who usually kept her praise reserved for academic feats, looked mildly impressed. "That's… quite impressive, actually."

"Who is this guy?" Slytherins muttered, half in awe, half in irritation.

Draco Malfoy scowled, gripping his broom handle tighter. "Beginner's luck," he snapped, though the uncertainty in his voice was obvious.

Zephyr, still hovering effortlessly, only raised an eyebrow. "What? Never seen talent before?" He gave a casual spin in mid-air, as if to make a point, earning more applause from his classmates.

Madam Hooch, who had been observing, arched an eyebrow but didn't interfere. "Well, at least one of you won't need extra lessons," she muttered under her breath before turning her attention to the struggling students below.

Back on the ground. Neville's broom gave an ominous shudder the moment his feet left the ground. His face twisted in panic as the broom shot up a few feet, then veered sharply to the left.

"Ahh—!" Neville yelped, clutching the handle for dear life as the broom wobbled like a mad horse. The other students watched, frozen between horror and secondhand embarrassment.

"Pull up, Longbottom!" Madam Hooch barked, but it was too late.

The broom suddenly lurched, flipping him sideways. Neville let out a strangled cry before tumbling off, hitting the ground with a heavy thud. The class collectively winced as he groaned in pain.

Madam Hooch rushed over, crouching beside him. "Broken wrist," she muttered, tsking. "Alright, up you go, Longbottom. Let's get you to the hospital wing."

Neville whimpered as she helped him to his feet. "I knew I'd be rubbish at this."

"Nonsense, child. You just need confidence," she assured him, though she still looked mildly exasperated. Then she turned to the rest of the class, her expression hardening. "Nobody is to leave the ground until I get back! If I see one foot off the ground, you'll be scrubbing cauldrons for Filch until Christmas!"

She led Neville away, leaving the class standing awkwardly by their brooms.

The moment she disappeared with Neville, Malfoy, of course, decided to start trouble. "Did you see that? He didn't even get two feet off the ground!"

"And yet, still managed to reach heights above your maturity level," Zephyr quipped.

Malfoy ignored him, picking up Neville's Remembrall, which had fallen to the ground. "Guess he won't be needing this anymore."

Harry stepped forward. "Give that back, Malfoy."

Malfoy sneered, mounting his broom. "Come and get it, then!"

He shot into the sky. Without thinking, Harry grabbed his broom and took off after him.

Zephyr folded his arms. "Yup. That seems like a wise decision."

Ron nudged him. "Aren't you going to stop him?"

"Why would I? This is the best entertainment I've had all morning."

Harry and Malfoy circled above, Malfoy taunting him as he tossed the Remembrall from hand to hand. But then, in a reckless move, he hurled it into the air.

Harry dived.

The world seemed to hold its breath as Harry shot downward, gaining speed. The Remembrall plummeted toward the ground. At the last second, Harry stretched out, snatched it from the air, and pulled up just in time.

The Gryffindors erupted into cheers. Even Zephyr had to admit, it was impressive.

Then, before anyone could celebrate, a sharp voice cut through the excitement. "Potter! Follow me!"

Professor McGonagall had appeared, looking furious.

Harry paled. "Well, that's probably bad."

As McGonagall led Harry away, Ron leaned toward Zephyr. "Do you think he's getting expelled?"

Zephyr thought for a moment. "No, but if she recruits him for Quidditch in the next five minutes, I'm going to act shocked while secretly taking credit for predicting it all along."

Ron blinked. "Why would she—"

"Just a feeling."

As the group headed back toward the castle, Zephyr's mind lingered on his own flight. He already knew where this was going. This was just the beginning soon, Harry would be recruited as Seeker, they'd uncover a troll on Halloween, and before long, he'd be facing off against Voldemort in some secret chamber. And even before that… Defense Against the Dark Arts was coming up soon.

Zephyr exhaled, a mix of anticipation and unease settling over him. He knew exactly what was waiting for him there. Professor Quirrell his stuttering, nervous act, the man was already compromised, carrying his father's presence.

He would soon come face to face with Voldemort, even if indirectly. How much did Voldemort already know about him?

Knowing how things played out was both a blessing and a curse. The real question was, how much could he actually change? His broom had responded too well, too fast. Was it just natural talent? Or was something else at play?

🥳@More stones please, fellow wizards@