Chapter 30: Racing a Flying Broom

Honestly, Malfoy never expected Harry to actually keep up. His smug grin froze on his face.

"Malfoy, give me the Remembrall, or I'll knock you off that broom!" Harry shouted.

"Oh? Big talk, huh?" Malfoy's face twitched, his voice betraying a hint of doubt.

Harry gripped his broom tightly, leaning forward like a javelin, shooting toward Malfoy, who spun his broom just in time to dodge.

A gasp rose from the crowd below.

But Harry quickly swung back around, now hot on Malfoy's tail.

Malfoy hadn't anticipated Harry could maneuver his broom so fast.

With Harry Potter, that annoying git, above him, and Edward waiting below, what was he supposed to do?

Panic flickered in Malfoy's eyes, his movements hesitant.

If getting a beating was inevitable once he landed, what difference did it make whether he tossed the Remembrall or not?

"Fine, if you want it so bad, take it!" he sneered, hurling the Remembrall toward the distant castle.

But, distracted as he was, he didn't notice Harry zooming up behind him.

Caught off guard, Malfoy was knocked off his broom by Harry's charge. The Remembrall slipped from his hand as he screamed, plummeting toward the ground.

The crowd below gasped in horror. Even Harry hadn't expected Malfoy to fail to dodge.

It was too late to turn back now—better to focus on grabbing Neville's Remembrall!

Sure, he also wanted to teach Malfoy a lesson.

Thoughts flashed through Harry's mind like lightning as he sped after the airborne Remembrall without looking back.

In midair, Malfoy screamed, eyes squeezed shut in despair.

The broom, the white clouds, the sky—everything rushed away from him.

If he could do it over, he'd never have tried to show off! Who knew Potter was a Quidditch prodigy?

Somebody, anybody, save me!

"*Arresto Momentum!*"

As if answering his plea, a spell rang out.

Edward reacted in an instant.

Sure, he wanted to teach Malfoy a lesson, but letting him crash from dozens of feet up wasn't part of the plan. The fall itself was punishment enough.

If Malfoy hit the ground, he'd be no better off than if he'd been hit with a Severing Charm.

Edward wasn't the type to stand by and watch someone die.

Malfoy's plummeting figure slowed abruptly, then began drifting down like a feather, his heart finally settling back into his chest.

He looked for his savior but couldn't spot that sandy-brown hair anywhere.

Edward hadn't stopped moving. Getting Malfoy safely to the ground wasn't his only goal.

There was still the Remembrall in the air!

Daphne, catching onto Edward's plan, shouted, "Don't break school rules for that thing—it's not worth it!"

She clutched her broom tightly, half-expecting Edward to snatch it and take off into the sky.

Before her words even landed, a gust of wind whipped her hair back, and Edward was gone.

The students saw only a blur streak past like lightning, faster than a broom.

With the Knight's Breathing Technique coursing through him, Edward sprinted toward the Remembrall's falling arc.

His heightened senses tracked its trajectory easily. If he did nothing, it would shatter on the lawn by a castle window.

Harry was zooming toward it on his broom, but Edward wasn't fully confident in Harry's raw talent to catch the plummeting glass ball.

When it came down to it, he had to step in.

Harry, following the Remembrall's path, dove faster, instinct telling him he had to outpace its fall to catch it before it hit the ground.

His eyes locked on the ball, but out of the corner of his vision, he saw something else.

A figure, moving at the same speed—no, faster—racing across the lawn in the same direction!

His robes billowed behind him, the wind tossing his sandy-brown hair back.

It was Edward!

A flurry of thoughts hit Harry.

Is he after the Remembrall too? How is he running so fast? Like a gust of wind, a bolt of lightning! Faster than a broom!

What kind of magic is this? I want to learn it!

But Edward's mind was clear of Harry's jumbled thoughts. He'd already overtaken Harry, closing in on the falling Remembrall.

He was certain he could snatch it midair, like grabbing a rebound in basketball from his past life. But a new problem arose.

If he grabbed it, he'd throw off Harry's focus.

The result? The famous Harry Potter might crash into the lawn, eat a mouthful of dirt, and end up in the hospital wing with Neville.

Not what Edward wanted.

He'd only used the Breathing Technique to charge over because he didn't trust Harry to catch the ball. But now, as long as the ball didn't shatter, it didn't matter who grabbed it.

Edward's job was to avoid interfering with Harry's judgment.

But with castle walls on both sides and his speed, a sharp turn seemed impossible.

He could cast a slowing charm on himself, but that felt a bit dull.

Why not test how strong his body had become after all this time training the Breathing Technique?

Eyes gleaming, Edward didn't slow down—he sped up, charging straight at the castle wall.

Not just Harry, but all the students watching were stunned.

Was Edward insane? Wasn't he going for the ball? Why was he barreling toward the wall?

"Edward! Slow down! Slow down! It's a wall!" Harry yelled from his broom, diving downward, the crowd's screams ringing in his ears. He reached out, snatching the Remembrall about a foot from the ground, then yanked his broom upright.

As Harry tumbled onto the grass, a loud thud echoed nearby.

Ignoring the cheers from the rushing Gryffindors, he scrambled to his feet to check on Edward.

That thud meant Edward had slammed into the solid wall at a speed faster than a broom.

It was no different from Harry crashing from the air onto the ground.

Though Harry had caught the Remembrall, guilt gnawed at him. He'd already figured out why Edward hit the wall.

It was to avoid messing with his focus, to keep his flight path clear.

If Edward had grabbed the Remembrall first, Harry might've veered off, crashed into the wall, or hit the ground.

Edward had taken the hit to ensure Harry's safety.

What a great wizard!

But when Harry, guilt-ridden, looked at Edward, he was shocked.

Edward was standing there, chatting and laughing with classmates, completely unharmed! Not a scratch, not even a speck of dust in his hair!

Even more shocking, the wall he'd hit had a faint crack.

How did he do that?!