"Malfoy, I don't think I've seen Ivy?" Cassandra shot Malfoy a glare, followed by her two companions—quiet Tracy Davis and the constantly chattering Daphne Greengrass.
In the open space beneath the bell tower, Malfoy was standing with several other first-year Slytherin students, chatting. When Cassandra and her friends joined, all the first-year Slytherins were present—except for Ivy.
"What?" A flicker of annoyance crossed Malfoy's face as his conversation was interrupted.
Cassandra merely rolled her eyes without answering Malfoy's question, and Tracy behind her spoke up, "She said—Ivy's not here."
"Of course! We were discussing Ivy!" Malfoy said. "He's a Slytherin too, and we should help him, especially let him know that those Gryffindors are nothing but fools, not the lions they claim to be."
"That Weasley is one thing, but..." Malfoy's companion, Blaise Zabini, hesitated before continuing, "...there's also Harry Potter."
"Give me a break." Malfoy sneered. "Did you see how he performed in Potions? The famous Potter is nothing impressive. Surviving the Dark Lord was just luck. He's just a first-year, an orphan, like us."
"Heh-heh-heh..." Several Slytherin first-years around Malfoy snickered, with Pansy Parkinson laughing the loudest, as if Malfoy had just told an excellent joke.
"Ugh..." Blaise Zabini hesitated and didn't speak further.
"Enough." Cassandra casually brushed her hair back, halting the laughter. "Now, tell us your plan, Malfoy."
"Everyone knows..." Malfoy grinned slyly, dragging out his words, "Potter's an orphan who grew up with Muggles, had no magic before coming to Hogwarts. So, I plan to make him look like a fool in flying class, so Ivy will understand he's just a pretender, not the hero everyone thinks he is."
"Heh." Cassandra coughed out a rasping laugh. "Is that your whole plan? A childish prank? If you could get Harry Potter expelled, then maybe I'd take you seriously."
Cassandra's sharp, green eyes scanned every Slytherin face behind Malfoy before she shook her head and turned to leave.
"Pranks and jokes won't win you anything from Ivy, Malfoy."
Tracy Davis nodded at Malfoy and quickly followed Cassandra.
Daphne Greengrass, with her long, chestnut curls, leaned in and whispered, "To be honest, I wouldn't mind seeing the Gryffindors make fools of themselves. But Ivy... well, he's not so easily fooled. You should know he's the one who—"
Daphne shivered as if a cold breeze had suddenly rushed down her neck.
"Anyway, since we're all purebloods, good luck," she said quickly and then hurried to catch up with her friends.
Malfoy frowned, staring in the direction they had left.
"Ignore them, Draco," Pansy Parkinson said in a high-pitched voice, "You're the best in my eyes!"
"Alright..." Malfoy snapped out of his thoughts and gave Pansy a strange look. "Let's continue... Anyway, I think we can embarrass Potter in flying class—maybe pretend to knock him off his broom or something... or maybe we can..."
The day quickly arrived on Thursday. It was a sunny day with a light breeze. For a September day, it wasn't much of a spectacle, but in winter, the residents of the British Isles would shout "Hallelujah!"
Ivy walked through the castle corridors and came out onto a flat lawn, the location for the flying lesson. As Hogwarts's only physical education class, flying lessons required a large open area.
The lawn was already filled with Slytherin students, all of them wearing a strange look of excitement. Ivy thought that perhaps these Slytherin students were already accustomed to flying on broomsticks. He nodded at his classmates and began reflecting on his actions.
Since the opening feast, after sending half of the senior Slytherins to the hospital wing, his classmates seemed to be afraid of him. Except for Cassandra, no one had approached him voluntarily. Even when he asked, no one dared to look him in the eye.
They always appeared in groups, as if they were afraid to be alone with Ivy.
As the Gryffindor students slowly gathered opposite the Slytherins, almost everyone in the class had arrived.
Professor Hooch was arranging twenty-two brooms in two rows on the lawn, making final preparations for the lesson.
Yes, twenty-two was the total number of first-year students in Slytherin and Gryffindor this year. However, since the professors had already taken attendance enough times, no one was interested in listening to it again.
Professor Hooch glanced at her pocket watch and then began calling the students to the brooms. "Alright, what are you waiting for? Everyone, grab a broomstick and stand next to it. Quickly, make sure you don't waste time."
Ivy looked down at his broom. It wasn't particularly clean, the copper binding around the bristles had turned a mottled green, and the branches were haphazardly sticking out without any semblance of beauty. If it weren't for the "Saddle Charm" on the wooden handle, Ivy wouldn't have bothered to mount it.
He glanced at his classmates' brooms and wasn't surprised to see that his was actually in better condition than most.
"Maybe Hogwarts hasn't replaced their teaching brooms since a hundred years ago," he muttered to himself.
"Oh, these brooms aren't as old as you think, Mr. Doom," Professor Hooch overheard Ivy's muttering, "In the 1920s, the two major broom companies, Cleansweep and Comet, began their competition and provided Hogwarts with a batch of samples for use as teaching tools—sort of an indirect advertisement. It was then that Hogwarts retired the brooms from over a century ago."
"So these brooms are no older than sixty years," Professor Hooch concluded.
"Alright! Time for the official lesson!" she called out. "Everyone! Stretch out your right hand, place it on the broomstick handle, and say: 'Up!'"