"Why are you all still dawdling? Everyone stand on the left side of your broomstick!"
At Madam Hooch's sharp command, the students quickly shuffled into place.
"Hurry up, no time to waste," Madam Hooch continued. "Now, extend your right hand, hover it above your broom, and shout, Up!"
"Up."
Marius Cloud said the word casually, almost lazily—yet the Nimbus 2000 at his feet leapt obediently into his hand, as though it were a soldier receiving the emperor's decree.
Gasps and exclamations erupted from the Slytherin students nearby.
Even some Gryffindors couldn't help but be impressed. After all, Marius had already made his name by flying a broomstick on the very first day of school. To see him summon his broom as effortlessly as extending an arm was something they could only envy.
Meanwhile, their own brooms lay half-dead at their feet, twitching feebly if at all. Jealousy and admiration stirred in many hearts.
"Excellent!" Madam Hooch clapped her hands. "Mr. Cloud has done splendidly! You must call your broom with feeling, just as he did."
With feeling?
The struggling students were baffled. They hadn't heard Marius put any emotion into his command at all—it was as though he had said it absentmindedly, and the broom had simply obeyed.
"…I saw Marius do this trick at the station," Hermione whispered to herself, summoning her courage. "It's been long enough—I should be able to do it too!"
But no matter what tone she tried, her broom only twitched and hopped weakly, refusing to rise. Disappointment washed over her. For two days, professors had praised her wit in class, and Hermione had begun to think she might not be too far behind Marius.
Now it was painfully clear—the gap between them was still immense.
Harry, on the other hand, managed to succeed almost immediately. Confidence surged through him. He glanced at Marius, his eyes brimming with gratitude—like a young colt gazing at the master who first recognized its potential.
Indeed, Cloud was right all along!
If it hadn't been for Marius's encouragement, Harry doubted he could have succeeded on his first try.
Harry's success caught the attention of others as well. Students remembered Marius's earlier words and couldn't help but wonder: Could he really see the hidden talent in others?
Ron, meanwhile, fared far worse. No matter how many times he barked "Up!", his broom only twitched lazily. His glance flicked nervously from Harry to Marius, his frustration boiling over.
Damn it! Damn it, damn it, damn it!
Don't tell me the gap between us is really this big?
Especially with Marius—why did he succeed so easily, as if it were nothing at all?
Growing more agitated, Ron shouted furiously, "Get up already!"
With a resounding whack, the broom leapt up and smacked him squarely in the face.
"Argh!" Ron howled, clutching his already bruised nose while laughter bubbled up around him.
Shut up! Shut up! All of you, just shut up! he screamed inwardly.
But in truth, most of the class had never handled a broom before. Many needed several attempts before they succeeded. Marius might not have ridden often himself, but with his overwhelming spiritual strength and magical control, it was no surprise he excelled beyond anyone else's reach.
Once the majority of students had managed to summon their brooms, Madam Hooch gave the next instructions:
"Now, once you've got a firm hold on your broom, mount it. Grip tightly, and don't you dare slide off the back! When I blow the whistle, you will kick off hard, balance yourselves in the air for a few moments, then lean forward slightly to descend."
She raised her whistle. "Wait for my signal. Three… two—"
Before she could blow, a student suddenly shot into the air.
Madam Hooch blinked in alarm. "Mr. Longbottom, what are you doing!?"
But Neville's panicked flailing made it obvious—he hadn't meant to rise at all.
"Get down, now! Down!" Madam Hooch cried.
Her shout only made Neville panic further. Instead of descending, he shot higher, spinning out of control.
"Neville!" Gryffindors shouted in alarm, while the Slytherins smirked at the spectacle.
"Look at that idiot—what a joke!"
"Ha! Can't even control a broom. Truly worthy of Gryffindor's banner!"
Fury flashed in the Gryffindors' eyes, but the Slytherins only grinned back, undaunted.
"Come down this instant, Mr. Longbottom!" Madam Hooch's voice was desperate now. But Neville couldn't manage it. Screaming, he soared higher until—crash!—he slammed into the castle wall.
"Merlin's beard! Neville!" Hermione gasped, hands over her mouth. "Remember him, Cloud? We helped him on the train, didn't we?"
"Of course I remember," Marius muttered, recalling the lost toad.
Hermione clutched his sleeve, her eyes wide and pleading. "Help him again, Cloud! You can do something, can't you?"
Marius sighed. What do you think I am, Doraemon?
Even the professor can't do anything—so why assume I can?
But he underestimated the faith Hermione placed in him. Since meeting Marius, she had never seen him fail. To her, he was practically synonymous with "can do anything."
Up above, Neville wobbled in a dizzy loop before plummeting—not in a controlled descent, but in a reckless dive straight toward the crowd of students!
"He's coming right at us!"
Chaos erupted. Students scattered in every direction. Madam Hooch yanked out her wand, but Neville was too fast—she barely rolled aside in time, clearing his path.
And then everyone saw it—two students who had not moved at all, standing firmly where they were.
"It's Mr. Cloud!" cried the Slytherins.
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