The Broom Lesson and the Red Light
N/A:
"Oh, damn it, I forgot the flying part and put everything in the wrong order. Hahaha, sorry. Just imagine I wrote it correctly. Ahem… things happen."
…
All the students were gathered in the outer courtyard, enjoying the fresh breeze that stirred their robes as they chatted in small groups with a calm sense of anticipation. This was a peculiar class, since it would be held jointly for all four houses. The rumor had spread quickly: Professor Quirrell, the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, had been bitten by some creature during the night. No one knew exactly what had attacked him. A few students claimed they had seen a red flash darting away into the gardens at full speed.
When Harry heard the comment, he tilted his head and looked at his small dragon with suspicion. Red, who had curled up on his trunk, pretended total innocence as he let out a bored yawn.
"I'm excited about flying lessons. Maybe I didn't tell you, but since I was a kid, I had a magical broomstick and flew through the sky like a hawk. Once, I almost crashed into a helicopter," Draco said, crossing his arms with a proud smile.
"Really?" Hermione asked, narrowing her eyes skeptically. Next to her, Harry and Daphne also turned to look at him in silence.
Draco fell quiet for a moment, aware that his friends knew the Muggle world rather well and had helped him understand many things. Finally, he rubbed the back of his neck and sighed.
"Sorry… I was being arrogant. Actually, I only flew around my house's courtyard while Dobby ran after me with a pillow, in case I fell," he admitted, a faint blush on his cheeks.
"Hahahaha!" The three of them burst out laughing, picturing the scene of little Draco soaring over the gardens with a frantic house-elf behind him.
"Anyway… I'm still excited about this class," Draco added quickly, trying to recover some dignity.
"I'd rather keep my feet firmly on the ground. Not after some idiot took me flying and we ended up stuck on a roof, waiting for help," Hermione complained, shooting Harry a look that was half reproach, half resignation.
Harry chuckled softly, remembering that childhood episode when they spent several minutes stranded on the rooftop while Hermione was convinced they would be left there forever… until Wanda appeared and brought them down with a simple wave of her hand.
"It's not funny," Hermione grumbled, though her face betrayed a tiny smile.
"Well, in my case, Mum didn't want me using a broom. She was sure I'd do something crazy, so I'm really looking forward to this too," Daphne said, a spark of excitement in her eyes.
As they talked, Professor Hooch approached with brisk steps. She was an imposing witch with short, silvery hair that gleamed in the light and intense yellow eyes as sharp as a hawk's. When she reached the center of the courtyard, she stopped and raised her voice.
"Good afternoon, students."
Everyone hurried to form two long rows, since the first years from Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin were all present.
"Good afternoon, Madam Hooch," they replied in unison, their voices echoing with discipline.
"Does everyone have their brooms?" she asked sternly, her gaze sweeping over the strange assortment of equipment.
Harry, Draco, Hermione, and Daphne exchanged a glance, assessing their own brooms. Some were so worn out that they looked about to fall apart. One Hufflepuff student was even holding little more than a stick with two crooked twigs nailed into it with rusty nails.
"Yes, Madam Hooch," they all answered, though many cast resigned looks at their pitiful supplies.
"Good. Stand to the left side of your brooms," the professor ordered, resting her hands on her hips.
The students obeyed, lining up with expectant faces.
"Place your right hand over the broom. On my count, say 'Up!' One… two… three."
The courtyard filled with a cacophony of voices, some trembling, others so shrill they echoed against the castle walls. Several brooms merely shivered on the ground, while others refused to move at all.
Only Harry's, Draco's, and a few other brooms obediently leapt up into their hands. From the Slytherin side, Carrow shot Harry a look full of resentment, annoyed that his broom hadn't moved.
On the Gryffindor side, a broom shot up too fast and smacked a red-haired boy right in the face, prompting laughter from several classmates.
Hermione eyed Harry and Draco with a spark of competitiveness. Daphne, too. Almost at the same moment, both girls began to repeat "Up!" with growing determination. Soon, they exchanged a glance, silently acknowledging the start of a private competition.
Meanwhile, little Neville Longbottom was chasing after his broom, which somehow slid across the ground as if it were playing with him, dodging every attempt to grab it.
Hermione, unable to stand the frustration any longer, extended a thread of magic and used telekinesis without thinking. The broom rose instantly, but her pride wouldn't let her admit she had cheated, so she tossed it back to the ground and resumed her attempts with feigned innocence. A couple of Slytherin girls watched her suspiciously, convinced she was mocking them.
Finally, after several minutes of persistence, everyone was holding their brooms.
"Very good," said Professor Hooch, walking between the rows with a watchful air. "Now I want you to mount your brooms and hold on tight. I don't want any unnecessary accidents. When I blow the whistle, you will kick off hard from the ground, rise a few feet, keep your broom steady, and then lean forward gently to land. Understood?"
"Yes, Madam Hooch," they replied, though a few swallowed nervously.
"On my signal. One… two…"
But before she could bring the whistle to her lips, a shriek tore through the air. A student shot straight up as if launched by an invisible spring.
"Longbottom, come down this instant!" Madam Hooch yelled, but it was too late.
Neville was rising out of control, his legs kicking in the air as the wind whipped his robes like a flag. Several students stared wide-eyed, while a couple of Slytherins burst into laughter.
Harry calmly raised his hand, pointing at Neville.
"Help!" Neville screamed, his voice breaking with panic.
Then, an intense, bright red aura wrapped around him, enveloping him in a scarlet glow. Instantly, everyone knew who was responsible. Harry's raised hand radiated the same vivid light that many of them remembered from their first day, when that terrifying forest had materialized in front of them.
With a gentle motion, Harry turned his hand until his palm faced upward, and made a slow gesture that drew Neville back down, lowering him carefully until he hovered just a couple of steps above the ground.
Madam Hooch, her wand still raised, stood frozen for a few seconds before letting out a long sigh of relief when she saw that Neville was unharmed. The sternness on her face softened just for an instant as she looked at Harry with a mix of surprise and restrained respect.
Then Neville reached the ground, where he dismounted the broom so hastily that he tripped and fell flat on his face in the damp grass. Even so, he scrambled back up right away, clutching his wrist with a pained expression.
Madam Hooch rushed over to him, while Harry watched silently, his gaze a little empty. He had just pulled the boy out of the sky, yet he had still ended up hurt. Harry rubbed his forehead and glanced sideways at his friends.
"Can you move your fingers?" Madam Hooch asked firmly as she crouched beside Neville.
Neville nodded between sobs, though he didn't look too sure.
"No, not at all, boy. Let's go to the hospital wing. They'll take proper care of you there," she said, helping him to stand.
Before leaving, she straightened up and swept her gaze across the line of students.
"No one will move from their place or lay a single finger on their brooms while I'm away. If anyone disobeys, they'll be expelled from Hogwarts before I can even say 'Quidditch.' Is that clear? Oh, and well done, Potter. Twenty points to Ravenclaw."
With that final remark, she turned and led Neville briskly toward the castle.
As soon as Madam Hooch disappeared from view, everyone turned to stare at Harry all at once, still astonished by what he had done.
A wave of whispers ran down the line like an electric ripple.
"He did it without a wand."
"And without an incantation."
"But that red color is scary."
Carrow, who until then had kept a mocking smile on his face, felt an unpleasant tingle of jealousy crawl up his back as he looked at the spot where Neville had fallen. Among the trampled grass and dust, he spotted a small shiny object. He stepped over and picked it up—it was the Remembrall Neville had mentioned during lunch.
"After all, it looks like what that fool forgot was his ability as a wizard. I wonder what his parents would think of him… oh, right, they can't think anymore," he said in a tone that was both arrogant and contemptuous.
Not everyone understood what he was implying. Even Harry and his friends frowned, puzzled by the remark.
But Harry was more annoyed than any of them. Without saying a word, he raised a finger. Instantly, the Remembrall shot toward him, tearing itself from Carrow's hand like a projectile, until it landed softly in Harry's palm.
Then he turned to Ron Weasley, who was staring wide-eyed at the scene. Harry tossed him the Remembrall with a calm gesture.
"Make sure you give it back to him," he said quietly.
The reply seemed to unsettle Carrow, who pressed his lips together before spitting out one last taunt.
"That strange magic comes from your adoptive mother, doesn't it, Potter? Do you feel some kind of connection to Longbottom?" he asked with a trace of sarcasm.
Harry held his gaze in silence for several seconds. Carrow met his eyes, but his smug expression slowly shifted into something more serious.
"Yes. It's the same magic my mother used to destroy a school when a friend of ours was insulted. Maybe you should find out what that was like. I hope you're ready for our duel in a month. Though, to make it fair, I might only use the magic I've learned here at Hogwarts. Because if I used mine, it would be far too easy," Harry replied in a calm voice before turning and walking toward a corner of the courtyard.
Draco followed him, wearing a smile he didn't bother to hide. He looked at Carrow with an amused expression.
"You really do know how to make enemies, don't you, Carrow?" Draco commented before catching up to his friends.
The Ravenclaw students, who had been watching silently for a while, hurried to approach. A small circle formed around Harry, bombarding him with questions.
"Hey, Potter, your mother is the pretty lady who works in the bookshop, right?" asked one of them. It was Terry, his roommate. Sometimes he felt a bit left out next to Draco and Harry. Both were heirs to old magical families, pure-blooded, while he was a half-blood. His mother often talked to him about the prejudice in the wizarding world, so even though he tried to fit in, he couldn't help feeling a little shy.
But Harry had just saved Neville in front of everyone, proving he wasn't a bad person. He was always respectful, even when Red ran off and caused trouble.
"Yes," Harry answered calmly.
"Did she teach you that magic?" asked a girl with brown skin wearing Ravenclaw robes. Next to her stood another young woman who looked identical, probably her sister, wearing Gryffindor colors.
"Yes. She also taught Hermione magic. She's her teacher," Harry said with a gentle smile.
Everyone turned to look at Hermione, who tucked her hair behind her ear with a nervous gesture.
"Ah, that explains why you did so well in Flitwick's class," Terry said quickly. "And now, when you lifted the broom and then threw it back down… you should have seen the faces of the Slytherin girls. They looked about ready to explode," he added with a mischievous grin.
"Well… I thought it would be cheating," Hermione murmured, a bit embarrassed to be in the spotlight.
"But why is yours red? Honestly, Harry, it looks kind of terrifying… and at the same time really cool. I still remember that day when we arrived at Hogwarts. It was honestly terrifying. I loved it," Terry admitted enthusiastically, while several other students nodded.
"Well, it's because it's a type of energy-based magic that only my mother and I use. But I don't know how to change the color… though I never really bothered to find a way. My mother uses it this way, so I do too," Harry explained calmly.
"Besides, the color of a spell doesn't really mean anything. There are plenty of curses with pretty colors and light spells that look sinister," Draco added with a shrug, trying to help his friend.
The Ravenclaw know-it-alls had no choice but to nod in agreement, admitting he was right.
"Only Harry is a total mama's boy," Daphne said quickly, making everyone turn to look at him. Harry shot her an annoyed look while the rest burst out laughing.
"Hey, while we're talking… can we ask about Red?" said one of the girls, glancing around curiously. "How did you get him?" she added at once.
"My mother created him through transmutation when I was a child. He's been with me ever since," Harry replied, smiling with a hint of pride.
"Wow! Your mother must be an incredibly powerful witch. Professor McGonagall said transmutation is a pretty dangerous art," commented another student in awe.
Meanwhile, the Ravenclaw students joined the conversation, laughing and sharing curious comments. A few meters away, Carrow and his followers watched from the Slytherin side, their faces tense with anger and disdain.