Chapter 24: Flying Talent, is This Thing Broken?

All through their Monday morning classes, the little badgers of Hufflepuff were hopelessly distracted. Their minds weren't on their textbooks; they were already soaring through the clear blue sky on broomsticks. Fortunately, their first class of the day was Herbology. Professor Sprout, understanding her students' excitement completely, not only refrained from deducting points from the few who were obviously daydreaming, but she even dismissed class a few minutes early so they could hurry off to lunch and prepare.

As Ciel was about to leave, his aunt called out to him, her eyes shining with a familiar, fervent pride.

"My dear Ciel," she said, her voice full of regret. "I'm so sorry I have a class this afternoon and won't be able to witness your first time on a flying broom. But I know you'll be brilliant. The newest Nimbus 2000 is already on its way! I just know you'll be representing Hufflepuff in Quidditch matches in no time!"

Ciel was momentarily taken aback. He hadn't even had his first flying lesson, and his aunt had already ordered him a Nimbus 2000? While it would be outclassed by the Firebolt in a couple of years, it was the top-of-the-line racing broom of its time, the wizarding world's equivalent of a luxury sports car. His aunt was truly generous.

He looked at the undisguised hope on her face and felt a stir of emotion. Just like the House Cup, Hufflepuff hadn't won the Quidditch Cup in years. It was clear his aunt desperately wanted to see their house succeed. Perhaps he should take this seriously. Alongside the House Cup, maybe he should try to win the Quidditch Cup as well.

With this thought, he gave his aunt a firm nod. "I'll do my best."

Professor Sprout watched him go, a wistful, anticipatory smile on her face. Ciel's father, her dear younger brother, had been a Beater for the Hufflepuff team. His mother had been a Chaser. If Ciel could join the team as well… If only they were still alive, she thought, her eyes misting over. To see their son follow in their footsteps… a whole family having played for the same team. What a happy, glorious thing that would have been.

She clenched her fist, her expression hardening. I will see you succeed, Ciel. And I will wait for the day that beast, Antonin Dolohov, has his soul sucked out by a Dementor in Azkaban. I will see him pay for what he did.

At half-past three that afternoon, Ciel and the other Hufflepuffs hurried down to the grounds in front of the castle. It was a clear, breezy day, the grass waving gently in the wind. The Ravenclaws had already arrived, and twenty flying brooms were lined up neatly on the lawn. The little eagles were just as nervous as the badgers, diligently reciting passages from books like Quidditch Through the Ages and Taming Your Broomstick, hoping the knowledge would somehow translate into skill.

Just then, Madam Hooch, the flying instructor, strode onto the field, her hawk-like yellow eyes sweeping over them.

"Alright," she barked. "What are you all waiting for? Everyone stand to the left of a broom."

She gave them their first instruction, just as Ciel remembered from the stories. "Extend your right hand over your broom and say, 'Up!'"

A chorus of voices rang out, but only a few of the brooms responded, shooting obediently into their owners' hands. Ciel's was one of them. The rest of the brooms either lay stubbornly on the ground or rolled around pathetically. Hannah Abbott's broom actually leaped up and smacked her hand, as if admonishing her for her timid command.

Madam Hooch's expression was a mixture of exasperation and amusement. "Don't let the brooms sense your fear!" she shouted. "They're like horses; they can smell a coward a mile away! Put some conviction into it!"

Ciel raised an eyebrow, looking down at the perfectly obedient broom in his hand. Could it really sense his thoughts? He had just been thinking that if the broom didn't listen, he'd kick it. When the thought flashed through his mind again, he could almost feel the broom tremble, every twig and fiber conveying a sense of eager submission.

After Madam Hooch had finally gone around and helped every student get their broom in hand, she blew a sharp blast on her silver whistle. "Three—two—one—LIFT OFF!"

The next moment, twenty brooms shot into the air. The world below receded, and Ciel couldn't help but smile. Unlike flying in an airplane, isolated from the world outside, sitting on a broomstick meant feeling the wind rushing past, the dizzying sense of freedom. It was a feeling he had never experienced in his previous life, and it was glorious.

As for the difficulty of flying itself… he felt none at all. His body's magical talent might be lacking, but its affinity for flying seemed to be innate. Combined with his astonishing physical fitness and legendary resistance to dizziness and falling, he handled the broom like a natural, weaving through the air with an effortless grace.

Madam Hooch watched him, stunned. Hadn't Professor Sprout said the boy had grown up in the Muggle world? He shouldn't have ever touched a broomstick. How could he fly so well on his first try? This child, she thought, her hawk-like eyes gleaming, has the potential to be a Quidditch star!

Meanwhile, Ciel was joyfully zipping through the air, gradually approaching the tall stone towers of Hogwarts. At the top of one of them, Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle were hiding.

Seeing Ciel's effortless flight, Malfoy's face twisted with disbelief and jealousy. "How is this possible?" he hissed. "He's flying that well?! Well," he sneered, "he won't be flying for much longer. I'm going to make him fall in front of everyone!"

He pulled out the silver, metallic rod his father had given him and swung it sharply. A blinding flash of light, like concentrated sunlight, shot from the tower, aimed directly at Ciel's eyes.

Ciel frowned, shielding his eyes. "The sun isn't that strong today. Why is the reflection so intense?" His flight wavered for a split second, but he quickly corrected himself. "Never mind," he muttered. "It doesn't affect me anyway."

He continued his flight, leaving a fuming Malfoy on the tower. He had been vigorously swinging the rod, his arm aching, but Ciel hadn't fallen.

"How could this be?" he raged. "Father said this alchemical device could knock out an elephant! Why isn't it working?"

Crabbe and Goyle mumbled in unison, "Maybe it's broken?"

Malfoy scowled. "Then let's test it on someone else."

Just then, Hannah Abbott came wobbling through the air on her broom, heading toward the tower. A cold, cruel sneer appeared on Malfoy's face. If he remembered correctly, this clumsy little girl was friends with Ciel. Let's use her to test it.

Another blinding flash of light shot from the rod, this time hitting Hannah square in the eyes.

Hannah had no resistance to the spell. Her mind went blank, her hands lost their grip on the broom, and like a kite with a broken string, she began to spiral down toward the ground.

(End of Chapter)

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