Michael breathed a sigh of relief: "Good thing Peeves didn't stick to us. If he had really called Filch, that would have been awful."
"Peeves is unlikely to go looking for Filch," Wade said, pulling him up from the ground. "Did you forget? They detest each other; Peeves wouldn't want to do anything that would please Filch."
"That's true," Michael nodded.
Peeves often caused mischief, either toppling statues or spilling ink everywhere, implicitly adding a lot of work for Filch, the castle caretaker, driving him mad.
The two walked up the winding stairs of Ravenclaw Tower, getting dizzy. They had to stop and rest every so often, their thighs aching as if they weren't their own.
Usually, Michael would complain incessantly at this point—unless there were pretty girls nearby, in which case he would feign being unbothered and stop to rest under the guise of looking after them.
But today, Michael was very quiet. It wasn't until they were almost back at the common room that he spoke: "Tomorrow we have flying lessons too."
Wade: "Hmm."
"Forget all that rubbish I said!" Michael said in a muffled voice. "Just take it slow, following Madam Hooch's instructions."
Wade said helplessly, "Neville's incident was just an accident; not everyone is that unlucky."
Michael probably knew that deep down, but for a while, he couldn't shake off the burden in his heart.
They finally made it back to the tower. It was already past curfew, but several students were still gathered in the corridor—not every Ravenclaw was good at solving riddles. When it came to a blind spot in knowledge, even the smartest mind was helpless. So sometimes, you could see over twenty students standing outside the common room, discussing how to answer the day's question.
Wade walked over and tapped the bronze knocker on the wooden door. The eagle's beak on the knocker suddenly opened, speaking in a gentle, almost chanting voice: "I have hands both high and low, sometimes creep and sometimes go. I walk like a man, but crawl like a dog."
The common room door would only open if the question posed by the eagle knocker was answered correctly.
Michael imagined some creature covered in hands, crawling ominously, and said with a look of horror, "What kind of monster is that? Is it—is it a demon god from some myth?"
He fumbled in his bag for his textbook, Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, and unhesitatingly flipped to the back.
"Don't bother looking; it's not in the book," a Ravenclaw student said tiredly. "I've already searched through the entire book."
The others nodded silently.
Wade stood by, thinking.
The bronze knocker was like the Sphinx of legend; its questions weren't necessarily difficult, but sometimes they were hard to figure out—because the knocker only ever asked questions, never revealing whether it was a riddle or a brain teaser, nor hinting if the answer was a plant, an animal, an object, a word, or something intangible like time or death.
This riddle, at first listen, sounded very Lovecraftian, yet it also felt familiar.
"—A monkey?"
After a moment, Wade asked, a little uncertainly.
"Correct," the eagle knocker said, and the wooden door opened.
After the accident during the flying lesson, the breakfast table the next day was much quieter. Students no longer tirelessly recounted stories of flying over mountains and seas on their brooms. Instead, another piece of news spread among the first-years.
"Didn't Harry Potter and Slytherin's Malfoy almost get into a fight during flying class yesterday? Well, guess what?" At the long table, Padma Patil said to those around her in a mysterious tone, "I heard that because Harry Potter showed amazing flying talent, not only was he not punished, but Professor McGonagall exceptionally recommended him to join the Gryffindor Quidditch team!"
Because she had a twin sister in Gryffindor, her news on such matters was always well-informed.
"Really? Professor McGonagall?" The surrounding students were surprised. Who didn't know Professor McGonagall was the fairest and strictest professor at Hogwarts? She treated all four houses equally and never showed favoritism. For her to make an exception for Harry Potter this time was such a shock that it momentarily made people forget the previous news.
But eventually, someone remembered.
"That's impossible," Terry said confidently. "No first-year has joined the Quidditch team in a century! That must be a rumor!"
"Maybe he's a reserve player or something," Anthony speculated. "After all, we all saw it; Potter really flies well, fast and nimble. It would be unbelievable if the Gryffindor team rejected him. But he is a first-year, after all, and he's never ridden a broom before; he doesn't even know the rules of Quidditch. To directly join the team would be too absurd—he should just be a reserve member."
Another student, Kevin, also said, "Think about it, if Potter really did get a special exception to join the team, the Weasley brothers would have already shouted it out. But have you heard any noise from them?"
The analysis was well-reasoned, and everyone nodded in agreement.
Padma scoffed dismissively, whispering to Michael, "Actually, the Gryffindor captain, Wood, wants to keep Harry Potter a secret weapon, that's why they're not publicizing it. Those stupid boys are just jealous, that's why they won't admit it."
Michael didn't remind her that he was also a boy, but instead smiled and said, "Maybe they just don't want to admit they're inferior to another boy in front of a pretty girl."
Padma's face flushed slightly.
Wade glanced sideways and saw Michael raise one eyebrow at him, looking roguishly charming at such a young age, as if he had already emerged from his previous gloom. Wade couldn't help but feel relieved.
Suddenly, a commotion arose in the Great Hall—six long-eared owls, laden with a slender package, struggled to fly into the hall, drawing everyone's attention. The owls circled down, dropped the package in front of Harry Potter, then flapped their wings and flew away, leaving only a few feathers behind.
Michael gasped, grabbing Wade's wrist tightly, and whispered, "A broom! I bet that's definitely a broomstick!"
His eyes were red with envy, and he said in a voice that sounded like he was spitting blood, "And it's a Nimbus series—I recognize the packaging!"
"Yeah." Wade pried his fingers off, put his hand back on the table, and said casually, "If you perform well in the flying lesson this afternoon, maybe you'll also get a chance to join the team and get a new broom!"
He had only said it offhand, but Michael seemed to take it seriously. His eyes became particularly earnest, and his teeth clenched extra hard as he bit into his lamb chop.
Soon, it was time for flying lessons.
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