Flying has always been one of humanity's greatest dreams, and Wade was no exception. To him, one of the greatest benefits of learning magic was the ability to soar freely through the sky. Of course, one could also fly by plane, which was more comfortable than riding a broomstick or a Pegasus. But undoubtedly, the latter was much cooler.
Ravenclaw's flying lesson was with Hufflepuff, on Friday afternoon. Before that, Gryffindor and Slytherin had their flying lesson on Thursday afternoon.
From Monday onwards, all first-year students were excitedly talking about flying, and Michael was no different.
"You know what? My most thrilling flight was diving from a cliff on my broomstick, racing an eagle!" Michael boasted, a sausage impaled on his fork. "We dove from a thousand three hundred meters up and finally hovered just fifteen centimeters from the ground! The grass on the ground could almost touch my nose!"
"That's amazing, isn't it?" Theo, at the next table, believed him wholeheartedly, exclaiming, "Michael, you should play Quidditch! You'd definitely be good at the Wronski Feint! Many famous players can't even do that!"
Michael's face flushed slightly, but he managed to force out, "O-of course! I must say, after Professor Flitwick sees my spectacular performance in flying class, he might invite me to join the Quidditch team early!"
"Definitely! You're a genius!" Theo praised loudly.
Michael's face grew even redder.
At the long table, some older Ravenclaw girls giggled, watching Michael. They had clearly seen through his lie.
To cover his embarrassment, Michael turned to Wade and said, "Wade, do you need me to give you some flying tips beforehand? Just so you don't get nervous when you get on a broom. I'm an expert in this; I was flying on a broom at home before I could even walk."
"Really? I think we could use some pointers too." Hermione quickly pulled Neville over to sit beside them, a pile of books in her arms—Quidditch Through the Ages, The Wonder of the Wigstown Wanderers, He Flew Like a Madman, and so on.
"You borrowed so many books?" Wade asked in surprise.
"Yes, but they're not much help," Hermione said, placing the books on the table with frustration. "These books are almost entirely about the barbaric sport of Quidditch. They don't say anything about how to fly more smoothly."
The girl's words immediately drew the ire of Quidditch fans. Michael raised an eyebrow and said, "Barbaric? Hermione, you probably don't understand, but Quidditch is the most popular and exciting sport; everyone loves Quidditch! It has nothing to do with barbarism! No, I should say—you just don't understand its wild charm!"
"Oh really?" Hermione retorted unceremoniously. "But it made the Golden Snidget a protected animal! On the verge of extinction!"
"Quidditch isn't wrong!" Michael blurted out first, then asked curiously, "...What's a Golden Snidget? It sounds a bit like a Golden Snitch?"
"It's a small, agile flying bird," Wade said, having just read about it. "In old Quidditch matches, a Golden Snidget would be released. The game would end when a Seeker killed the bird. Because of this, the number of Golden Snidgets, once as common as sparrows, became extremely rare, and sanctuaries had to be established to prevent their complete extinction. Although the Golden Snitch was later invented to replace the Snidget, some Quidditch teams in certain countries seem to have retained the old custom. So, even now, the Golden Snidget is still a protected animal."
Hermione lifted her chin and declared, "Exactly! So the sport of Quidditch is a barbaric activity built upon the lives of countless Golden Snidgets. It's a shame that now so few people care about the poor Golden Snidgets, only cheering for a sport that can lead to death!"
The girl completely forgot why she had sat at this table. She grabbed her books and left in a huff, leaving the boys exchanging bewildered glances.
After a long moment, Neville timidly said, "So... flying tips... are there any left?" He said with a worried expression, "I've never flown before. My grandmother doesn't let me near broomsticks—not even toy ones."
"Ahem, of course," Michael said enthusiastically. "Riding a broom is actually very simple. You just grip the stick at the front, push off the ground with your feet, and you can fly. Maintaining balance is the most important thing, and you must be flexible when turning—different broom models vary greatly. The school's common brooms are lucky if they're a Cleansweep Seven, but currently the best is definitely the Nimbus 2000..."
Michael's "flying tips" consisted of only two or three sentences. The rest of the time, he talked endlessly about the performance of the Nimbus series. Theo was very supportive, believing every word. Neville, with wide, round eyes, tried hard to remember everything he said, but in the end, his paper only had a few lines: [Grip the handle, push off hard, maintain balance].
Ryan secretly whispered to Wade, "I'm sure Michael has only ever ridden a toy broomstick."
"Why do you say that?" Wade asked. "Have you ridden a real one?"
"I haven't ridden one myself because my mum doesn't let me; she says it's too dangerous," Ryan said. "But my dad has a Comet, and he once took me flying around a few times. He said that initially, a beginner should just focus on sitting steadily; they shouldn't rush to fly, because proper broomsticks are much faster than toy brooms and have no height limits."
He looked at Michael, who was still talking effusively, and shook his head slightly.
"Nothing to worry about," Wade comforted. "The professors are there!"
Although he didn't remember the detailed plot of Harry Potter, he recalled Neville having a shining moment in the final battle. What major incident could possibly happen in a regular flying lesson?
Come to think of it... he vaguely remembered there being a flying lesson plot.
Wade stroked his chin, trying to dig out useful fragments from his memory.
Hmm... it seemed Neville was bullied by Draco? And then Harry Potter stood up for him?
Yes, that must be it.
On Thursday afternoon, Ravenclaw only had one Charms class, shared with Slytherin. After class, the Slytherins gleefully ran towards the lawn—that was where flying lessons were held. The Ravenclaws had no more classes afterward, so they all decided to go and watch.
Wade, uncharacteristically, joined the main group—after all, it was a flying lesson. Students gathered in twos and threes in the corridor, straining their ears to overhear Professor Hooch's lecture, hoping to learn something in advance to avoid embarrassing themselves in tomorrow's official lesson.
Not long after, they saw Neville—yes, Neville!—while everyone else was still standing on the ground, the boy shot straight up into the sky like a launched cannonball!
"Aaaahhh—"
A terrified scream echoed from the sky, followed by a figure plummeting straight down. Before anyone else could react, he crashed violently into the grass with a loud thump!
A profound silence fell over the crowd.