"So wizards sometimes committed lawlessness that makes blood freeze in veins," came the muffled voice of the girl. "Wizards in those times already had their own system of power, as well as execution of punishments. Cooperation with the church to eradicate criminal elements was in the order of things, as was the exchange of various information. And some orders collected books, knowledge, and so on, even if this knowledge was frankly sinful, god-awful, and generally, a total disaster. Then passed copies to wizards. And then schisms began in the church, fermentations, other obscenities. The attitude towards wizards fell under this comb too, starting to change quickly and radically."
Having changed, the guys and I went out into the vestibule of the changing room, waiting for the girl.
"And then... Damn it, fasten... And then everything went downhill, but Hogwarts was already built, wizards of all ages were trained, all that stuff. By the way..."
The girl came out to us, holding a broom in her hands.
"...Some architectural solutions of our school are borrowed directly from some abbeys, and the Great Hall with the central inner courtyard and a couple of adjoining structures are generally a slightly widened copy of Gloucester Cathedral, which was erected at about the same time. Naturally, without religious themes, and the walls of the Great Hall have fewer decorations to highlight the beauty of the charms on the ceiling. But pay attention to the walls; no one notices them, and I have been admiring the work for five years already."
"This is all very interesting," Cedric nodded. "And I would be happy if the ghost of Binns told this, and not about goblin rebellions. But we gathered to fly?"
"You bet," the guys nodded in agreement and smiled.
"Then forward!"
In a completely uncoordinated and unorganized crowd, we literally tumbled out of our changing room, then out of the building itself, immediately jumping on brooms and taking off. The sensation of complete immersion in the process of flight, in the sensation of air around, the sensation of the entire environment as on a three-dimensional radar visited and captured me again. Is magic realizing what was hammered into the shard over decades of flight? Who knows, the probability is more than high, for an ordinary human organism simply has no organs to realize all sensory capabilities provided by systems of a high-tech void fighter.
"Well, tag?" Cedric shouted over the hum of wind in ears.
"Yes!"
"Then catch!" Cedric took something out of the inner pockets of the uniform, immediately simply throwing it into the air.
We flew after him, and this scattering of identical objects seemed to fall into our hands by itself, although this is not true; we caught them. Something like a glove with metal inserts on the back, but a glove only for two fingers—index and middle. Judging by the faces of the others, they understood the essence, but I didn't. Cedric noticed this and slowed down slightly, coming abreast with me.
"Put it on, point with two fingers at the target within two meters. A beam appears, hold the connection for five seconds, the target turns from prey into hunter."
"Clear, everything is simple."
We turned around Hogwarts in a wedge, flying across the almost completely brightened sky. Another couple of minutes, and the red dawn will be replaced by a full sunrise. As soon as I put on the glove, it blinked red, remaining to glow dimly but visibly.
"Oh, you're it!" Cedric smirked and turned sharply to the side, like everyone else.
"Clear as day," a nasty smirk climbed onto my face by itself.
In a moment plunging into sensations of "feedback" with the broom, devoting maximum attention to sensory perception of everything around and myself with the broom in particular, I sharply pressed against the handle, literally flattening myself on it. A volitional message, a jerk to the side; flying was just as simple as moving one's own body. Just need more practice. After all, here it is just like with the same body; you sense, feel, control, but there is no base of reflexes to various stimuli, have to think it over. Good thing I "think over" quickly.
Thanks to sensitivity to the space around, I could rely not on vision at all. Clear and non-contradictory understanding that the broom seems to have a bunch of engines in all directions and planes, although simultaneously one can use thrust only in a third of directions. Such understanding, when striving to accelerate forward, allows using not only the direct "main engine," one vector of acceleration, but also helping oneself with "maneuvering" ones, which in themselves should give acceleration forward and sideways, up or down.
I don't think such a property of the broom is a big secret. Look, Cedric accelerated clearly faster than his Cleanweep can, and judging by the model number, it is the same as mine. And Cedric himself is by no means a flimsy boy. But one thing is to know, and another is to overcome instincts and the concept of movement in space formed in the head. Our thinking limits us; the pilot shard fought with this too. No neural network, knowledge, and simulators will help become a cool pilot until you hammer new knowledge into yourself at the level of instincts.
Well, for now... Let's play "dogfight."
Two guys on brooms hovered quite high above the green clearing illuminated by the morning sun that had climbed out from behind the hills. Behind was Hogwarts, and ahead—the Quidditch stadium with high stands and towers. Looking closely, one could notice guys in red uniforms flying on brooms there, but those are Gryffindors frolicking at the stadium. And here two guys watched how below them at huge speeds, performing incredible maneuvers, four of their teammates chased the fifth, trying to hit him with a blue beam of light from gloves on their hands. They tried unsuccessfully, for this guy performed completely crazy, and most importantly, hellishly sharp and unexpected maneuvers.
The captain of the Hufflepuff Quidditch team, also Seeker, also House prefect, and generally a good young man for everyone, who for his age collected so many "achievements" that one can compete with Dumbledore, if scaling, of course. He, together with a comrade, the team's Keeper, hung and hung in the air motionless, peering into every detail of maneuvers performed by Hector.
"Does he look to the sides at all?" Herbert, the Keeper, was surprised. "Does he have eyes on the back of his head? And on the heel? And on..."
"Just feels," Cedric answered with a smile. "I do that too. But not so precisely and on such a scale."
Hector pulled another maneuver, dodging beams, again and again. Here he accelerated for a moment, instantly pulled the broom up, going vertically, and very quickly turned one hundred eighty degrees, concurrently spinning a split-S.
"Whoa!" from surprise Herbert swayed on the broom. "Immelmann?"
Hector simply "fell through" in the air, stopping almost instantly, while the others, as if losing sight of him, flew further. The guys lost a couple of seconds on turning around and trying to find Hector with their gaze, but he had already hidden in the bushes.
"Sun," Cedric answered with a smile. "He covered his disappearance with the low sun."
"Huh? Oh!"
The four on brooms flew apart in different directions, looking for the last "survivor" in tag, but unsuccessfully.
"You know, Cedric..." Herbert rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
"Oh, don't start..."
"Come on! It's obvious!" Herbert looked at the prefect-captain-Seeker with indignation, pointing a hand down to Hector's supposed location. "The Cleanweep only limits him."
"I am not blind," Cedric's face became serious, which happens rarely. "I see perfectly well that he knows exactly what he wants to do, and does it. Excellent reaction, route planning, instant re-evaluation of the situation. And yes, the Cleanweep is like an anchor around the neck for him."
"The-e-ere," Herbert instructively raised a finger to the sky.
"And you, as always, suggest slipping something from your father's department?"