In short—
After Professor Hooch stepped in to stop the commotion, the flying lesson finally continued as planned.
At least on the surface, it seemed that way...
Still, the incident added yet another unpleasant encounter between Slytherin and Gryffindor.
Slytherin already had a poor reputation among the houses, and with Ron Weasley fanning the flames, things only got worse.
After all, they were just eleven years old—too young to exercise sound judgment, easily swayed by their peers.
Naturally, the Gryffindors present ended up with the worst possible impression of the Slytherins.
Especially Draco, who had quietly become the leader of the little snakes.
So, it was only inevitable that he became the target of their hostility.
At the moment, they were holding back only because of the professor's presence. Otherwise, the conflict might have escalated...
...
As the lesson resumed, Pansy leaned close to Draco and whispered,
"Draco, I didn't know you could curse."
"....."
"Boring."
Draco's quiet reply made Pansy puff her cheeks in irritation.
Pansy, who somewhat understood Draco, was surprised—she hadn't expected him to actually get angry.
So, Draco did have a temper after all...
"Everyone, stretch out your right hand and place it over your broomstick!"
At Professor Hooch's command, all the young witches and wizards turned their eyes in that direction.
Professor Hooch demonstrated the move while explaining it.
The students hesitantly followed suit, placing their hands over the broomsticks at their feet.
"Now say, 'Up!'"
"Up!"
Voices echoed across the field.
Only a few managed to get their broomsticks to leap into their hands. Most of them just lay flat on the ground, completely still.
Even Hermione—known as the smartest and most knowledgeable among them—only managed a single wobble from her broom before it stilled.
Draco's lips curled up slightly.
Hermione's small face had clearly darkened...
Of course, this result didn't mean much.
With enough practice, anyone could pull it off eventually.
Still, these small details could hint at a wizard's natural talent for broom flying.
Especially for someone like Harry Potter, who had never even had a chance to touch a broomstick before—his gift seemed truly innate...
"Harry, how did you do that?"
"I'm not really sure... it just kind of happened."
"......"
Ron wasn't acting anything like he had boasted earlier.
What happened to the story about him riding Charlie's broom and nearly crashing into a glider?
Because right now—
He couldn't even get the broom to lift into his hand...
On the Slytherin side—
There were similar failures, but overall, their performance was clearly better than Gryffindor's.
Even Goyle and Crabbe—big lugs who couldn't cast a proper Charm in anyone's eyes—both managed it with ease.
It was the advantage of being born into wizarding families and noble bloodlines.
Their status had given them early exposure to broomsticks.
Not to mention Draco, whose calm demeanor stood out.
There wasn't even a hint of satisfaction on his face as he held his broom...
…
After all, a broomstick was just a magical tool.
With Professor Hooch's guidance, the young wizards quickly got a grip on their brooms.
"Alright, everyone, mount your broomsticks."
"I'll correct your posture and grip one by one."
Excitement and nervousness were written all over their faces—an eager anticipation mixed with anxiety about flying for the first time.
Draco noticed.
Neville Longbottom's face was deathly pale...
"Okay, when I blow the whistle, push off with both feet. But remember, don't push too hard."
"Keep your broom steady, rise into the air, lean forward slightly, don't go too high, and come back down vertically."
"Wait for my whistle... Three... two..."
Everything had followed the usual routine—until something unexpected happened.
"Ahhhhh!!!"
Before the whistle even blew, someone had taken off early.
But judging from the terrified scream, it was clearly not on purpose...
Everyone turned to look at the figure shooting uncontrollably into the sky—and at Professor Hooch, flustered and unsure of what to do.
The whole class froze in place...
"That person... looks like Longbottom."
Draco's voice was calm as he identified the one who'd caused the commotion.
Hearing him, the others all shared a knowing look—of course it was Neville again.
It seemed every young wizard was all too familiar with Neville's knack for mishaps...
...
While Professor Hooch shouted to calm the out-of-control Neville, Ron Weasley had other thoughts.
Come to think of it—
When you dislike someone, anything they do becomes another reason to dislike them.
Just like now, when Ron overheard Draco's remark...
"Typical Slytherin behavior. That's our classmate up there—don't you care at all?!"
He seemed to think Draco's indifferent tone was some kind of unforgivable offense.
But this time, Ron didn't point and shout at Draco like he had before—perhaps remembering their earlier confrontation.
"What did you say!?"
"Weasley, you looking for a duel?!"
Goyle and Crabbe, clearly ready for something like this, immediately stepped in front of Draco and raised their fists toward Ron. Their eagerness made Pansy roll her eyes.
"A duel it is! Don't think we Gryffindors are afraid of Slytherins!"
Though it started as Ron's personal outburst, the tension quickly escalated to a full-on house conflict.
To be fair, Ron had a bit of cunning in him.
Still, anyone with a shred of common sense would've known this wasn't the way.
The problem was—
They were Gryffindors.
Brave and passionate, yes, but impulsive above all—and Slytherin already didn't have the best reputation to begin with.
So, in the next moment, all the Gryffindor first-years stood behind Ron in unison, glaring furiously at the Slytherins.
All except Hermione, who looked like she wanted to stop the fight...
...
Just as the argument below reached a boiling point, Neville—still high in the sky—finally lost control. His terrified face twisted as he let go of his broom and fell.
"He's falling... he's falling!"
"By Merlin's beard!!"
Neville's fall came just in time to halt the confrontation between the houses. Even Draco turned his gaze upward...
"So panicked he forgot to even draw his wand?"
Draco muttered, though it wasn't clear if he was talking about Neville plummeting from the sky or Professor Hooch running in frantic circles below.
As Draco frowned, a familiar scent drifted to his nose—ink from books mingled with the fragrance of shampoo.
If he had to name it—
It smelled like knowledge itself.
"Draco, you can save Neville, right?"
Of course, it was Hermione who'd approached him—someone who vaguely knew the truth of Draco's abilities.
The young witch stood in front of him now, bearing the stares from behind with a conflicted expression...
The scene felt oddly familiar to Draco.
Neville, in need of help once again.
And the same little witch standing before him.
Was it fate?
But this wasn't the train.
"Even if it means being misunderstood, you're still asking this evil Slytherin for help?"
"..."
Hermione didn't answer. She just looked at him in silence.
Her brown eyes were stubborn, her lips pressed tight.
Draco understood what she meant—and his frown deepened.
So be it...
He raised his hand.
Unlike before, this time Hermione's eyes flickered with surprise and mixed emotion as Draco pulled out his wand.
Magic stirred.
And for a brief moment, a faint golden shimmer passed through Draco's gray eyes.
"Wingardium Leviosa!"
Yes...
It was the Levitation Charm.
One they hadn't even learned yet.
...
[Upto 20 chapters ahead for now]
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