Andrew suspected that Madam Hooch was playing games with him—changing her attitude as she pleased—but he didn't dare make any comments about it.
He had indeed lost control of himself—he had to admit that.
Compared to the other students, he had a stronger desire to fly.
Still, his composed return to the ground didn't earn him any special privileges. Like everyone else, he began with the most basic flight exercises.
Stable hovering, followed by a series of lift-offs and landings.
Next came straight flight, then lift and land again. Then turning, lifting, and landing again—each new movement followed by a round of flying and landing.
Their flying instructor practiced alongside them, taking off and landing while pointing out each student's mistakes in real-time.
"All right, now we need a volunteer to demonstrate all the moves we've just learned. Who's up?"
Several students raised their hands, and in the end, Andrew was chosen—despite his earlier overexcitement, he had at least shown the ability to land smoothly.
"Ready—begin!"
At Madam Hooch's command, Andrew kicked off the ground with both legs and rose steadily into the air—he had a feeling you could probably tilt slightly and take off one-legged, but now wasn't the time to try flashy, untested moves.
"Good, now pull up!
"Great, now fly straight!"
"Turn left!
"Fly straight again—good, this way, turn again!"
"Lower altitude!
"Level out after pulling up! Stop!
"Good—land!"
Andrew floated down like a feather, even maintaining low-altitude hover as he touched down.
"Excellent. Ravenclaw, plus two points."
…
"Come on, Professor, give me a little more—that just evens things out!"
But no more points came. A new eager volunteer was chosen to demonstrate next.
However, Andrew was granted permission to practice on his own at low altitude—not exceeding ten feet. He immediately gave up on watching others and went back to experimenting with his broom.
Quick stops, sudden climbs, trying to fly upside down while gripping the broom, pivot takeoffs using only one leg… all the fancy tricks he had just thought of finally had their moment.
Except for the few times he had to land suddenly or pull up in a panic, he tried every stunt he could think of. Even when he fell, he just dusted himself off and got back on.
"Hahaha…"
When Andrew fell off again, one student couldn't help laughing out loud, prompting Madam Hooch to glance at him. Seeing that he hadn't exceeded the altitude limit, she ignored it.
Looks like I overestimated the danger…
Andrew rubbed his sore butt, picked up his broom, summoned it again, and began his next round of antics.
It paid off—by the end of class, he was able to fly a full sequence smoothly, as if glued to the broom.
"You're improving very fast. One more lesson and you'll be ready to try mid-altitude or high-speed flying. That's an impressive pace. If you keep this up, you might be ready to try out for the House team in your second year—but only if your Quidditch training goes just as well."
At last, Madam Hooch awarded Ravenclaw three more points, generously praising Andrew in front of everyone.
Joining the House team? No thanks…
Andrew had no desire to play Quidditch—just Transfiguration alone was enough to eat up all his free time in first year. Not to mention he still had to maintain the quality and pace of his writing submissions. He simply didn't have the time.
Not that he showed it. Madam Hooch added that if he could keep up his training and improve through House team experience, she would consider recommending him to try out for a professional team after his O.W.L.s.
That's nice… if Voldemort dies by then, it might actually be an option.
After acknowledging Andrew's progress, class came to an end.
"Students who haven't yet mastered stable broom control can come on the weekend to apply for extra broom time. Upper-year members of the Flying Club will help supervise. But if there's any serious violation of rules, you will automatically fail flying class for the year and be banned from flying. If it happens again next year, you can forget about flying for the rest of your school life.
"Also, those who are already good at flying can apply to practice on Sundays, but only after passing an evaluation by Flying Club members. That's all—class dismissed."
Madam Hooch drew her wand, and with a wave, the brooms obediently followed her like a battalion of soldiers awaiting inspection.
"Wasn't nearly as hard as I imagined."
"Told you," Bell said with a relaxed smile. "Hey, Andrew, want to train together this weekend?"
"Of course. But I'll probably only be free for half the day—you know, my little experiment just hit a key stage."
Flying would need practice—if he wanted to keep flying, he'd need to pass that so-called evaluation.
Luckily, I still have enough time…
+++++
Just when Andrew thought the flying lesson was behind him, he overheard some shocking news at the dinner table after returning from the library.
The afternoon flying class had gone completely off the rails…
What had been a relatively calm Gryffindor–Slytherin situation earlier erupted again during the lesson.
To put it simply, the early drills had gone fine, but when everyone was in the air doing basic flying, the Slytherin students—more experienced with brooms—started pulling off mocking tricks above the heads of the cautious Gryffindors.
Eventually, a Gryffindor named Neville tried to charge upward and collide with one of them, but the Slytherin easily dodged. When Neville attempted to stop his broom, he fumbled the move and fell off.
"He was almost twenty feet in the air! Then Harry Potter—you know, the Harry Potter—shot across the pitch from far away, caught Neville mid-air, and landed safely! Only broke an arm from the impact!"
"Not only that—he used his legs to steer, and with one hand still on the broom, he snatched up Neville's dropped Remembrall or whatever it was!"
"No way!"
Andrew jumped in on the conversation.
"Of course it's true! That's how incredible he was. Andrew, your flying's pretty good—could you pull that off?"
"I can't even lift another person—definitely not. No way."
Andrew shook his head firmly. He had a bit of talent for flying, sure—but a maneuver like that? He'd need at least a year of training just to dream of it.
Then again, why compare? He had made huge progress that afternoon. After multiple experiments, he felt like his object-transfiguration durations had tripled. All he needed now was to test his new transformation results!
"I bet he'll be on the House team for sure in second year. So jealous… we probably won't stand a chance in Quidditch anymore."
"Yeah, seriously. No comparison."
Andrew nodded in agreement.
T/N: For twenty chapters ahead on all my fics become a P@tron at [email protected]/LordHipposApostle