At five in the afternoon, the students of Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw walked together to the lawn where their flying lesson would be held. From there, they could see Hagrid's hut and the Forbidden Forest in the distance. Occasionally, strange sounds could be heard coming from that direction.
Unlike the adventure-loving Gryffindors or the troublemaking Slytherins, Ravenclaws were known for being prudent, generally only testing boundaries within the rules. Hufflepuffs, being the model students, were even less likely to break any rules. Most students from these two houses would graduate after seven years without ever setting foot into the Forbidden Forest.
About twenty broomsticks were neatly lined up on the ground, and Madam Hooch was already there waiting. With sharp, hawk-like eyes, she scanned the students vigilantly and barked,
"I assume you've all heard about the accident yesterday! Mr. Longbottom of Gryffindor was lucky to have only broken his wrist, but if any of you act recklessly, I wouldn't be surprised if someone ends up breaking their neck! You'd better remember that!"
The little eagles and badgers all nodded nervously.
"All right! Everyone stand next to a broomstick!"
Under Madam Hooch's gaze, everyone quickly obeyed, not daring to push or shove. These school brooms looked ancient—each one worn-out, with crooked twigs and rough oak handles that felt like they could give splinters just by touching them.
And yet they were expected to fly on these things.
Wade suddenly felt that flying on a broomstick might not be very friendly to the tailbone.
He heard Michael mutter under his breath, "Shooting Star—cheapest broomstick ever..."
Wade glanced over and saw that Michael's broom was even worse than his own. It looked like it had been tied together with weeds.
Madam Hooch barked, "Stretch out your right hand, place it over the broom handle, and say—UP!"
"UP!" the students shouted in unison.
Wade's broom rolled twice on the ground before leaping into his hand. When he grabbed it, he realized it didn't require much force to hold—it floated in the air by itself.
He glanced at the others. Some succeeded right away, but others—like Michael—had their brooms flopping on the ground like fish out of water, bouncing erratically and refusing to cooperate.
Once everyone had their brooms in hand, Madam Hooch taught them how to mount properly to avoid falling off, sternly correcting several students' postures.
Wade had assumed this would be easy, based on the movies—Harry Potter always seemed to just hop on and take off. But now that he was actually doing it, he realized it wasn't so simple. The broomstick was just a narrow wooden rod, and maintaining balance while sitting on it took real skill.
Fortunately, the strain on certain fragile bones wasn't as bad as he'd feared. The brooms had some sort of charm on them that made it feel a bit like sitting in a chair—not comfortable, but not unbearable either.
Only when Madam Hooch was satisfied with everyone's posture did she allow them to proceed to the next step—flight.
"When I blow the whistle, push off hard from the ground," she instructed. "Hold on tight to your brooms, but don't go too high—unless you want to fly into the clouds! Just lift off a little, rise slowly a few feet, then glide forward gently and finally descend slowly back to the ground."
She emphasized the word slowly three times before adding, "Listen for my whistle—Three, two, one!"
The whistle blew, and the class instantly fragmented—some flew too high, others dove straight into the ground, and two students tumbled off their brooms with a thud.
Madam Hooch frowned and quickly waved her wand, saving them just in time from injury.
Suddenly, there was a scream—a Ravenclaw girl had lost control and was speeding straight toward the broom shed!
"Impedimenta!" Madam Hooch shouted.
The girl froze mid-air briefly before crashing into the wall. The impact was lessened by the spell, but her broom shattered on contact.
Instead of scolding her, Madam Hooch summoned another old broom with a Summoning Charm and told her to continue practicing.
Wade flew around in higher circles, gradually testing and increasing his speed. Only about five or six students, including him, managed to steadily control their brooms. The majority were ordered by Madam Hooch not to fly higher than the broom shed.
Still, accidents kept happening.
Two students' brooms veered off course and crashed mid-air. One Hufflepuff boy was flying just fine at low altitude, but the moment he climbed to five meters, he shut his eyes and fell off the broom—he turned out to have a fear of heights.
This first flying lesson was pure chaos. Madam Hooch darted around like an octopus, casting spells left and right to save students from potentially neck-breaking crashes. At one point, she herself was knocked into by a reckless student, her face darkening with fury as she deducted five points from Hufflepuff.
Wade finally understood why Madam Hooch always looked stern and annoyed. Any seasoned driver teaching a group of beginners who constantly made dumb and dangerous mistakes would probably look just like her.
At last, the lesson ended. Groups of students hobbled off to the infirmary to see Madam Pomfrey for treatment of scrapes, sprains, and bruises. Wade and Michael, unscathed, returned to the Great Hall together for dinner.
"Wade!"
Hermione, already eating, waved to them. Seeing her sitting alone at one end of the Gryffindor table, Wade walked over and sat beside her.
Hermione looked them over and asked, "Flying lesson didn't go well?"
"Exhausting," Michael groaned. He felt like he needed to replenish his energy. After grabbing two buttered rolls, he added a roast chicken leg to his plate.
Wade downed a glass of juice in one go and said, "Everyone was flying for the first time. Nobody was really good. More than half got minor injuries. Someone even fainted."
Hermione nodded. "I can't say I'm surprised. Flying around in the air with no safety measures—it's only natural to get hurt!"
She clearly didn't like broomsticks or Quidditch at all.
"It's a skill that takes serious training! Skilled Quidditch players can fly more gracefully than birds."
After the class, Michael finally got his energy back. But Wade remembered how he had barely flown above ground during the lesson—any higher, and either the broom or Michael himself would start to shake.
The perfect example of someone both bad at it and overly eager.
But Michael convinced him with just one sentence:
"Think about it, Wade," he said in an almost hypnotic tone. "We could fly straight to the dorms on our brooms—no more climbing stairs! I saw the Quidditch players doing it!"
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