Chapter 50: Freedom
It was a clear, breezy day. As Sean, Justin, and the others walked down the sloping lawn towards the flat training ground near the Quidditch pitch, a warm wind rippled through the grass like an invisible hand. The dark, forbidding mass of the Forbidden Forest loomed at the edge of the grounds, a place strictly off-limits according to Dumbledore's warnings. Strange sounds occasionally echoed from within its depths, drawing nervous, curious glances from the young students.
Twenty old broomsticks lay in neat rows on the grass. They looked ancient and battered, some with twigs sticking out at odd angles. It was no wonder Justin had questioned their airworthiness.
"It'll be fine," Sean explained quietly. "Wizards invented the Cushioning Charm. Elliot Smethwyck created it in 1820. It was a huge step forward in making broomsticks more comfortable."
Even though Sean spoke softly, several nearby students murmured in understanding.
Soon, the picturesque lawn was dotted with black-robed first-years. The sharp clack-clack-clack of boots on stone announced the arrival of their instructor, a woman with a sharp, bird-like face and short, spiky grey hair, her yellow eyes as keen as a hawk's.
"Well, what are you all waiting for?" she barked, her voice crisp and commanding. "Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up!"
"They call her Madam Hooch," Michael whispered, appearing seemingly out of nowhere. "Besides teaching Flying, she referees the Hogwarts Quidditch matches."
Referee? The word triggered a memory from Quidditch Through the Ages: [Over the centuries, numerous attempts have been made to tamper with the referee's broomstick. The most dangerous occurred… when the referee's broom was turned into a Portkey mid-match. He vanished instantly and reappeared months later in the Sahara Desert.]
A dangerous job, Sean thought grimly.
"A Shooting Star?!" Michael groaned in despair as he reached his assigned broom. "Didn't Universal Brooms Ltd go bankrupt in 1978? Where did Hogwarts even find this antique relic?!"
Sean examined his own broom. Thankfully, it was a Cleansweep Seven. At least he could find the instruction manual for that one. The poor students stuck with the truly ancient models would have to rely on luck.
"Before we begin," Madam Hooch announced, her voice cutting through the nervous chatter, "let me remind you. Anyone attempting to fly off unsupervised will suffer the same fate as Mr. Longbottom yesterday. He was fortunate to escape with only a broken wrist. A fall from that height could just as easily result in a broken neck!"
A collective shiver ran through the students. One Hufflepuff clutched his throat in terror, as if expecting to turn into Nearly Headless Nick at any moment.
"Now," Madam Hooch commanded, "hold out your right hand over your broom and say, 'Up!'"
"UP!"
A chorus of eager voices rang out. Several students succeeded on their first try, including Justin, whose broom leaped obediently into his hand. Others, like Terry and Michael, had less luck. Their brooms either remained stubbornly on the ground or gave a pathetic, half-hearted twitch.
Sean, mimicking Madam Hooch's sharp tone, commanded, "U—Huh?"
The broomstick was already nestled firmly in his grasp, docile as a fawn. He blinked, surprised. Had he even finished saying the word?
"Alright," Madam Hooch instructed. "Mount your brooms. Grip them tightly. When I blow my whistle, I want you to kick off from the ground, hard."
She waited until everyone was awkwardly settled, then continued briskly. "Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle… three… two…"
A wave of panic rippled through the students on their brooms. Some were visibly trembling. Even amongst the usually composed Ravenclaws, Sean was the calmest. He wasn't aiming for altitude. He was focused on Sir Cadogan's advice.
The broom's flight is powered by charms… Control yourself…
He murmured the words, shifting his weight onto the broom, and suddenly felt… something. A subtle thrum of latent power within the wood. As the broom tilted slightly left or right, he could sense the underlying forces at play. Braking Charm… Ascension Charm… Steering Charm…
He quickly identified the sources of the faint magical currents. As he focused his entire being on understanding them, Madam Hooch's final command cut through the air.
"ONE! TWEET!"
The sharp blast of the whistle sent the students shooting upwards like reverse raindrops. One Ravenclaw shrieked as his broom rocketed towards the sky, thankfully slow enough for Madam Hooch to snag him with a non-verbal spell. A Hufflepuff, conversely, plummeted straight towards the ground, saved only by Madam Hooch's quick thinking and a hastily conjured pile of hay. Many others simply tumbled off their brooms as they kicked off.
Madam Hooch darted back and forth, sweating profusely, occasionally having to pry a terrified student's fingers off her arm. "I'm going to fall!" one shrieked, earning himself a face full of Aguamenti to snap him out of his panic.
Only five or six students managed to hover steadily, circling a few feet above the ground. But the one who flew with the most effortless grace, the most fluid control, was undoubtedly the pale Ravenclaw boy.
[You have practiced Flying once to the Adept standard. Proficiency +10]
[You have practiced Flying once to the Adept standard. Proficiency +10]
The Panel's notifications chimed steadily as Sean's familiarity with the broom grew. He could feel the hidden magic within the wood, sense the secrets behind its movement. It was simple control, really. To turn left, channel a sliver of will into the leftward steering charm. To stop, gently activate the braking charm. His own magic, focused and directed by his will, acted as the key, unlocking the broom's obedience.
What he didn't realize was that most beginners simply treated the broom like a tool, relying on its built-in stabilization charms. The level of fine control he was exhibiting was typically only seen in experienced Quidditch players, who spoke of achieving a seamless connection with their "partner."
"Is that… Sean?" Michael stammered, clinging nervously to his own broomstick just a few feet off the ground, heart pounding. He stared up at the figure soaring freely above, finding it hard to believe his eyes.
[You have practiced Flying once to the Adept standard. Proficiency +10]
[Flying Skill: Unlocked]
[New Title available in the field of Flying. Please view.]
[A new Wizarding Talent has been discovered. Please view.]
Sean had never felt so free. For his frail body, running and jumping had always been distant dreams. But on a broomstick, he could feel the wind rushing past his ears once more, exhilarating and pure. A warmth ignited within him, fierce and bright like the fire in the dilapidated hearth of the orphanage common room.