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[HP: Return from Game of Thrones]-Chapter 36: Flying
🕑 Added 2025-09-25 15:16:10 +0000 UTCFlying lessons were coming up soon. When they said "flying," they actually meant using flying broomsticks, which were pretty common among British wizards.
Harry didn't understand what was going on with the girls, but he thought the little boys' balls were pretty impressive.
"What a drag," Ron said glumly for once. "I might end up making a fool of myself on a flying broomstick right in front of Malfoy. He might not dare mock you, but he'll definitely want to mock me."
Ron was a huge Quidditch fan, but when he was little, his mom wouldn't let him mess around with broomsticks. He was just a big talker.
Meanwhile, Malfoy was always bragging about himself. "Are you kidding? I'm amazing on a flying broomstick." He didn't say it to Harry's face—it was something Ron had heard from who knows where.
After hearing that, Ron had been nervous the whole time.
"It's not certain that you'll make a fool of yourself," Harry said. "Maybe you're a natural talent, born with the body of a Quidditch saint. Little Malfoy would be cut down in minutes."
"I hope so."
Malfoy talked about flying all the time.
He loudly complained that first-years weren't allowed to join house Quidditch teams, and he told long, boastful stories that always ended with him narrowly dodging a Muggle helicopter.
But he wasn't the only one talking big. From the way Seamus talked, it seemed like he could ride a flying broomstick as a kid and blast through the clouds high in the sky with massive explosions, causing artificial rain. It sounded totally fake right off the bat.
Did he learn the Blasting Curse before he even went to school or something?
Even Ron, if anyone was willing to listen, would talk about how he once rode Charlie's old broomstick and nearly crashed into a hang glider. Only when he was alone with Harry would he secretly admit that it never actually happened—he was just bragging.
When it came to broomsticks, everyone from a wizarding family chattered endlessly about Quidditch. Ron had even gotten into a huge argument with his dormmate Dean Thomas over whether Quidditch was better than football.
Neville had never ridden a flying broomstick in his life because his grandmother never let him near one.
Privately, Harry thought his grandmother had a good point—Neville was a walking disaster second only to Seamus.
He might not cause big explosions, but he always unluckily triggered all sorts of accidents. And he liked hanging out with Seamus, which meant Seamus always ended up blasting him.
If it weren't for Harry, he'd have been sent to the hospital wing injured more than once.
Hermione was almost as nervous as Neville. She didn't have a broomstick to practice with, so she could only read flying guides from extracurricular books and practice in the air with nothing.
Harry suggested she try riding a regular broomstick to get a feel for it—it should be better than just mental practice.
That afternoon at three-thirty, Harry and the other Gryffindors hurried down the steps to the grounds in front of the castle, ready for their first flying lesson.
The Slytherins were already there, along with twenty flying broomsticks lined up neatly on the ground.
Harry had once heard Fred and George complain about the school brooms, saying some shook and rattled when you flew too high, and others veered off course—they were all too old. The twins were probably Quidditch players and needed to ride them often.
Anyway, Harry didn't want to play those little kid games; he wanted to focus on his studies.
It wasn't just Quidditch—in those years in China, he could watch TV whenever he wanted, and later he'd have to pick a sport to win gold medals in. He'd watched a bunch of football matches and thought they were played terribly. He wondered why so many people liked watching football.
As he was thinking that, their teacher, Madam Hooch, arrived.
She had short gray hair and yellow eyes like a hawk's, and Harry thought that if she was an Animagus, she'd probably turn into a big eagle.
"All right, what are you all waiting for?" she barked. "Everyone stand by a broomstick. Hurry up, hurry up, let's not waste time."
Harry glanced down at his broomstick. It was battered and worn, with twigs sticking out at odd angles.
"Extend your right hand over the broomstick," Madam Hooch called from the front, "and say 'Up!'"
"Up!" everyone shouted.
Harry's broomstick jumped into his hand right away, clearly tamed without a doubt.
Harry felt like it was more than that. When he opened his skill panel, [Riding Mastery] was flashing, and soon a sub-skill [Flying Broomstick Riding Mastery] appeared.
Was it really that easy? I was sent to the Dursleys' at one year old—I don't think I've ever ridden a flying broomstick... right?
He looked around—there was still some difficulty to it, or rather, it depended on talent. Everyone's talents were different, just like how Seamus was good at blasting.
Some people were trying it for the first time too, calling the broomstick up the same way.
Hermione's broomstick just rolled over on the ground, while Neville's didn't budge at all.
Next, Madam Hooch demonstrated how to mount the broom without sliding off the front.
"All right, when I blow my whistle, give it a good kick and hover off the ground," Madam Hooch said. "Hold the broom steady, rise a few feet, then lean forward slightly to touch back down vertically on the ground. Listen for my whistle—three—two—"
Then, as expected, something went wrong. Neville suddenly shot up into the air ahead of time, soared high, then slid back down from the heights. For the nth time, Harry saved him.
He didn't use the Levitation Charm or a broomstick he hadn't ridden before. With a kick of his legs, he leaped more than ten feet into the air, then urged his energy forward to position himself under Neville in advance.
Right after, there was a loud bang when he caught him—the impact was pretty big from falling from that height, but because Neville had energy protecting him, he wasn't hurt at all.
It was like Superman catching a damsel—no way he'd turn her into damsel sauce.
They landed steadily.
Then came a chorus of "Whoa——oh————" from the classmates, a wave of exclamations.
"Did you see that?"
"He's like Superman!"
"He's a real hero."
"Does he not need a broomstick to fly on his own?"
That was a rumor—Harry couldn't fly yet.
"I bet he can. He must be able to fly with his body alone."
"That's Superman's magnetic field power."
"Does Superman have magnetic field power? I'm from a Muggle family too—don't lie to me."
"If you can fly without a broomstick, could you play Quidditch without one too?"
"You'd probably still need it..."
"Could you play football without shoes?"
They should've been used to Harry's weirdness by now, but they couldn't get used to it at all. This was just ridiculous—was this the power of magic?
Madam Hooch's first reaction was shock too. As expected of the famous Harry Potter—he could jump that high and catch that precisely. That physical condition wasn't human.
Her second reaction was that falling from that height, even if he didn't die, would mean serious injuries and broken bones.
Of course, Harry was fine, but Neville must have taken a nasty fall.
She took Neville from Harry's arms. Neville was scared pale.
"Strange, he seems okay," Harry heard her mutter softly. "No external injuries, but there could be internal bleeding. All right, child—I'll help you."
She turned to the rest of the class.
"I'm taking this boy to the hospital wing. No one is to move! Put those broomsticks back where they belong, or else you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quidditch.' Come on, dear."
Harry didn't explain—Neville was shaken up, so it was good for him to get checked out at the hospital wing.
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