The crisp breeze of late morning swept across the Hogwarts grounds as the Gryffindor and Slytherin first-years gathered by the castle's training lawn. The air smelled of dew and grass, anticipation buzzing in the air. Today was their first flying lesson.
Madam Hooch, with her sharp yellow eyes and short-cropped hair, stood before them beside a neat row of school brooms. Her whistle cut through the chatter.
"Line up, everyone! Brooms to your right, feet shoulder-width apart. Let's see how many of you can follow simple instructions."
Elias stood beside Hermione, hands casually by his sides. He had always loved flight in his past life — the idea of weightlessness, of wind and freedom. But more importantly, this was a day that fate had marked clearly in the books he remembered.
"Up!" he called, and the broom leapt to his hand instantly. A few students gawked.
Hermione struggled beside him. Elias leaned over just slightly. "Firm voice. Confidence. The broom listens to that."
She glanced at him briefly, not quite smiling, not frowning either. She tried again. "Up!"
The broom twitched—then lifted into her hand. Her face lit up with quiet pride. Elias gave her a small nod before turning his attention back to the front.
Further down the line, Neville Longbottom's broom trembled under his outstretched hand, responding reluctantly. He looked pale.
Madam Hooch demonstrated the basic mounting and lift-off techniques, warning them sharply not to try anything before she gave the signal.
But before she could even supervise the first take-off, Neville panicked. His broom shot up—wild, uncontrolled—and Neville was flung screaming into the sky.
Gasps echoed.
Without thinking, Elias moved.
"Accio Cushion!" he whispered, wand in hand. A spell bought with system points days earlier — a soft-impact charm for slowing falls. He darted beneath Neville's arc and aimed where the boy would fall.
Neville plummeted—then hit the magical cushion Elias summoned in mid-air, rolling once before landing safely on the grass with a gasp. The impact was softened enough to spare him injury.
Madam Hooch rushed over. "Merlin's beard, Mr. Blake! That was quick thinking."
"Just didn't want a housemate splattered across the lawn," Elias said lightly, hiding the flicker of System Notification at the corner of his vision:
+10 Fate Points: Prevented canon injury through clever intervention.
The students buzzed with whispers, glancing between Neville, Elias, and Madam Hooch. The lesson resumed after Neville was escorted to the Hospital Wing, though now with considerably more caution.
When Madam Hooch turned to assist a struggling Slytherin, Draco Malfoy took the opportunity to snatch something from the grass—the small glass ball Neville had dropped, a Remembrall.
"Maybe if he had a better broom, he wouldn't fall off like a bludger," Draco sneered. "This belongs to me now."
Harry, standing nearby, stepped forward.
"Give it here, Malfoy."
Draco's smirk deepened. "Come get it, Potter." He kicked off, soaring upward with practiced grace. "You're not going to catch me."
Harry shot a look toward Elias, who gave a small shrug—he wasn't intervening here.
Harry mounted and kicked off—his broom soared like it had been waiting for his touch. The moment he left the ground, Harry flew as if he were born to it, soaring after Draco with terrifying natural talent.
Gasps and cheers echoed across the lawn as the two zipped through the air. Elias watched calmly as the events unfolded—Harry's skill was breathtaking, and eventually, Draco tossed the Remembrall high into the air in challenge.
Harry dove.
The entire class watched with bated breath as Harry swooped down—closer and closer—until he caught the ball with one hand and pulled up just inches from the ground.
Silence. Then, wild cheering.
Madam Hooch stormed over, furious—only to pause when Professor McGonagall herself appeared, having witnessed the tail end of Harry's dive from the castle window.
"Potter," she said sharply. "Come with me. Now."
Draco looked smug—certain Harry was being expelled.
But Elias smiled faintly. He knew better.
The youngest Seeker in a century is about to be born.
That evening, the Gryffindor common room buzzed with excitement about Harry's flying. Elias quietly slipped away to his dorm and found a letter waiting on his bed.
It was sealed in a dark green wax he recognized immediately.
From: Cassian Blake
Elias opened it without emotion.
Elias,
You continue to disappoint. A Blake in Gryffindor is an insult to our name. You will write to the Headmaster and request a House reassignment to Slytherin. This foolish resistance is unbecoming of your lineage. Do not test my patience further.
– Cassian Blake
Elias stared at the letter for a long moment.
Then slowly, he folded it and placed it back in its envelope, untouched by anger or sadness. Just a dull certainty that this war with his father was far from over.
System Notification:
+5 Fate Points: Resisted paternal coercion.
Available Points: 35