All Monday morning, the little badgers of Hufflepuff were distracted in class, their minds already soaring through the sky on broomsticks. Fortunately, their first lesson was Herbology, and Professor Sprout, ever understanding, didn't scold the daydreamers. In fact, she ended class a few minutes early so everyone could get ready for lunch and, more importantly, flying lessons.
As Char was about to leave the greenhouse, Professor Sprout called him over, her eyes bright with excitement and just a hint of nostalgia.
"Dear Char, I'm so sorry I have classes this afternoon and can't watch your first flying lesson," she said, regretful but supportive. "But I know you'll do wonderfully. The latest Nimbus 2000 broom is on its way for you! I'm sure you'll be flying for Hufflepuff's Quidditch team in no time!"
Char couldn't help but laugh inside. He hadn't even tried flying yet, and his aunt was already planning for him to use the top broomstick in the wizarding world. The Nimbus 2000 was as valuable as a sports car in the Muggle world—sleek, fast, and the envy of every young witch and wizard. Professor Sprout's confidence and generosity warmed his heart.
He saw the longing in her eyes. Hufflepuff hadn't won the Quidditch Cup in years, and Char realized how much it would mean to her to see her house triumph again. Maybe, he thought, he could help make that dream come true.
"I'll do my best, Aunt," Char promised, and Professor Sprout watched him go with a proud, hopeful smile. Memories of Char's parents—both former Hufflepuff Quidditch players—danced in her mind, and she wiped away a tear, silently vowing to support Char in every way she could.
By 3:30 that afternoon, Char and the rest of the Hufflepuffs hurried out onto the castle grounds. The sky was clear, the breeze gentle, and the grass rippled in the sunlight. The Ravenclaws were already there, looking just as nervous as the badgers. Twenty brooms lay neatly on the ground, waiting.
The clever Ravenclaws clutched their copies of "One Hundred Tips for Quidditch Flying" and "How to Tame Your Broomstick," hoping that book knowledge would help them in the air.
Madam Hooch, the flying instructor, strode in briskly.
"All right, everyone! Stand next to a broomstick," she called.
The lesson began just as it did in the stories: "Right hand over your broom… up!" Only a handful of brooms responded immediately—Char's among them. Most brooms stubbornly rolled or twitched on the ground. Poor Hannah Abbott got her hand rapped by her broom, as if it were scolding her for being nervous.
Madam Hooch smiled wryly. "Don't let your broom see you're afraid. They're like horses—they can sense your mood. Be brave!"
Char glanced at his own broom, which was practically vibrating with eagerness. He realized, with amusement, that his earlier thought—about kicking any broom that misbehaved—might have made it extra obedient.
Once everyone had their brooms in hand, Madam Hooch demonstrated how to mount and hold on. Then she blew her whistle.
"Three—two—one—take off!"
With a rush of wind, twenty brooms soared into the air. Char felt the world drop away beneath him. The sensation was exhilarating—nothing like an airplane, where you were sealed away from the air and the elements. Here, the wind whipped past his face, the castle and grounds spinning below. He grinned, feeling completely at home.
For Char, flying was almost effortless. His body, strengthened by legendary vitality and balance, seemed made for broomstick flight. He darted and swooped with ease, drawing admiring glances from Madam Hooch.
She watched him, surprised. "Didn't they say this Sprout boy grew up in the Muggle world? How can he fly like that on his first try? He might have the makings of a Quidditch star!"
High above, Char circled near the Hogwarts tower, not knowing he was being watched. Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle were hiding at the top, plotting revenge. Malfoy's eyes widened with envy as he saw Char's graceful flight.
"How is he so good?!" Malfoy muttered, then smirked. "Well, let's see how long that lasts."
He pulled out the silver alchemical rod his father had given him. With a flick, it emitted a blinding flash, reflecting sunlight straight into Char's eyes.
Char squinted, momentarily dazzled. "That's odd—the sun's not that bright today. Must be a weird reflection." He shrugged it off and kept flying, barely affected.
Malfoy's arm was already sore from waving the rod, but Char didn't even wobble. "Why isn't it working? Father said it could knock out an elephant!"
Crabbe and Goyle exchanged uneasy glances. "Maybe it's broken?"
Malfoy scowled. "Let's try someone else."
Just then, Hannah Abbott, looking nervous but determined, drifted near the tower. Malfoy aimed the rod at her and triggered another flash.
Unlike Char, Hannah was instantly overwhelmed. Her vision went white, her grip slackened, and she tumbled from her broom, spinning helplessly toward the ground.
[Nimbus 2000: The top broomstick of its era, highly prized for its speed and handling, and a symbol of wizarding sporting excellence.]
____________
"Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed the chapter, please consider donating Power Stones and joining our patreon
[patreon.com /coolperry]
for early access to future chapters.(+30 chapters)