Chapter 17: Flying Lesson

Flying had always been humanity’s greatest dream—and Wade was no exception. To him, one of the greatest perks of learning magic was the freedom to soar through the skies. Sure, airplanes could carry you into the air too, and they were far more comfortable than riding a Broomstick or even a hippogriff. But there was no denying it—flying the magical way was simply cooler.

Ravenclaw’s Flying Lesson was scheduled to be held with Hufflepuff on Friday afternoon. The Gryffindor and Slytherin first-years had theirs on Thursday. Ever since Monday, every first-year had been buzzing about flying. Michael was no different.

“Know what? My most thrilling ride was when I dove off a cliff on a Broomstick, racing an Eagle!” Michael said boastfully, a hot dog skewered on his fork. “We plummeted from 1,300 meters of high altitude and hovered just fifteen centimeters above the ground at the end—grass was brushing my nose!”

“Wow, that’s insane!” Theo, sitting at the next table, looked genuinely impressed. “Michael, you should try out for Quidditch. You’ve totally got the Lansky feint down—some pro players can’t even pull that off!”

Michael’s cheeks flushed slightly, but he tried to play it cool. “W-well, of course! I mean, Professor Flitwick might even invite me to join the team early if he sees how amazing I am during the lesson!”

“Absolutely! You’re a natural!” Theo exclaimed.

Michael’s face turned even redder. Along the Long Table, a few older Ravenclaw girls giggled behind their hands, clearly unimpressed by the tall tale.

To cover his embarrassment, Michael turned to Wade. “Hey, need a quick flying tip before the lesson? I can help you stay calm. I was flying before I could even walk—I used to zoom around the house on a Broomstick!”

“Really?” Wade raised an eyebrow. “Well, we could use some guidance, actually.” Hermione hurried over, dragging Neville behind her. She was clutching a stack of books—The Origins of Quidditch, The Miracle of the Wiggenweld Wanderers, Flying Like a Madman, and others.

“You borrowed all these?” Wade asked, surprised.

“Yeah, but they’re useless,” Hermione grumbled, dropping the books onto the table. “They’re all about Quidditch—the wild, violent sport—but not a single one explains how to fly smoothly.”

Her words sparked outrage among the Quidditch fans.

“Violent?” Michael arched an eyebrow. “Hermione, you clearly don’t know what you’re talking about. Quidditch is the most popular, most thrilling sport in the wizarding world! Everyone loves Quidditch! It’s not violent—it’s passionate! You just don’t understand its raw, wild beauty!”

“Is that so?” Hermione shot back without hesitation. “Then how do you explain that Golden Snidgets are now a Protected Species? Because of Quidditch, they were nearly wiped out!”

“Quidditch isn’t to blame!” Michael insisted. “Wait… what’s a Golden Snidget? Sounds kind of like a Golden Snitch.”

“It’s a small, incredibly fast flying bird,” Wade chimed in, recalling the details. “In the old days, Quidditch matches would release one Golden Snidget. The game ended when the Seeker caught and killed it. That’s why their numbers dropped from being as common as sparrows to nearly extinct. They only survived because of protected reserves. Even though the Golden Snitch replaced them, some teams in certain countries still keep the old tradition. So Golden Snidgets remain a Protected Species to this day.”

Hermione straightened, triumphant. “Exactly! So Quidditch isn’t just a sport—it’s built on the lives of countless Golden Snidgets. And now, no one even cares about them. All people care about is that dangerous, deadly game!”

She stood up abruptly, still clutching her books, and stormed off, completely forgetting why she’d come to the table in the first place. The boys stared at each other, awkward and silent.

After a long pause, Neville finally spoke, his voice trembling. “So… uh… flying tips… still available?”

He looked miserable. “I’ve never flown before. My grandmother forbade me from even touching a Broomstick—neither real nor toy.”

“Of course,” Michael said cheerfully. “Riding a Broomstick is simple. Just grab the handle, push off with your feet, and you’re off. Balance is key. And be ready to turn quickly—different Broomsticks behave differently. The ones the school provides? A Comet Seven is a luxury. But the best by far is the Nimbus 2000…”

Michael’s “flying lesson” lasted barely three sentences. The rest of the time, he rambled on about the performance of the Nimbus series. Theo listened with wide-eyed awe, hanging on every word. Neville stared, eyes wide, scribbling furiously on a scrap of parchment—though by the end, his notes only read: Hold the handle. Push hard. Keep balance.

Liam leaned over and whispered to Wade, “I’m pretty sure Michael’s only ever ridden a toy Broomstick.”

“Why do you say that?” Wade asked.

“I’ve never ridden a real one myself—my mom said it was too dangerous,” Liam said. “But my dad has a Comet. He once held me while flying around the sky a few times. He said beginners should just focus on staying on the Broomstick at first. Don’t rush. Real Broomsticks are way faster than toys—and they don’t have height limits.”

He glanced at Michael, still talking animatedly, and shook his head slightly.

“Don’t worry,” Wade said, trying to reassure him. “Professor Hooch will be there.”

He didn’t remember much of the exact details of Harry Potter, but he did recall that Neville had a standout moment in the final battle. A single flying lesson? What could possibly go wrong?

Then again… wasn’t there a flying lesson scene in the story?

Wade tapped his chin, digging through the foggy memories of his past.

Hmm… wasn’t it something about Neville getting bullied by Draco? And then Harry stepping in to defend him?

That had to be it.

On Thursday afternoon, Ravenclaw only had one class with Slytherin—Charms. After class, the Slytherins burst out of the classroom, laughing and chattering as they raced toward the lawn—the designated Flying Lesson field. Ravenclaw students had no more classes, so they followed suit, gathering in a loose group.

Wade, unusually, joined the crowd. It was, after all, Flying Lesson.

Students gathered in the corridor, eavesdropping on snippets of Professor Hooch’s instructions, hoping to pick up a few tips so they wouldn’t embarrass themselves during the official lesson.

Before long, they spotted Neville—yes, Neville—already in the air.

While everyone else still stood on the ground, the boy shot upward like a cannonball, soaring straight into the sky.

“AAAAAAH—!”

A scream tore through the air. Then, without warning, the boy plummeted downward in a straight line. No one had time to react before he crashed hard into the grass with a loud thud.

Silence fell over the crowd.

(End of Chapter)

Chapter end