In the sky, Harry found flying much simpler than he had imagined—almost like walking or running.
After a few straight lines, he began circling around his Gryffindor classmates.
Following Madam Hooch's instructions, Harry kept a moderate speed but changed directions often, weaving back and forth around his teammates.
"Ron, you look less flexible than me!" Harry teased, grinning.
As for Loren, Neville, and the others—they barely managed to get off the ground, though Ron was slightly better.
Hermione looked on with a hint of jealousy. I knew he was talented, the little witch thought.
Sitting on the broom didn't hurt anywhere. It felt like a gentle force supporting the entire body evenly from all sides.
Loren flew slowly and lingered in the last group along with Hermione.
He thought that if he hadn't saved Neville earlier, there wouldn't have been any memory ball incident, and maybe Harry would have had to wait a whole year to join the Quidditch team. But it wasn't a loss.
Malfoy was no stranger to flying on a broom and moved smoothly through the air.
He had been looking forward to this lesson for days, hoping to impress and earn praise.
But first Madam Hooch scolded him, and now Harry stole the spotlight, souring his mood.
Malfoy glared at Harry, annoyed.
He pressed down hard on his broomstick handle with both hands and charged straight at Harry.
Harry, shifting directions, felt the broom's tail brush his hair.
A shadow flashed before his eyes, and his heart skipped a beat.
This unnecessary provocation made Harry furious; he was about to shout when—
Vincent Crabbe, the taller of Malfoy's two cronies, saw Malfoy attack Harry.
With a grim smile, Crabbe rushed forward.
Gryffindors nearby screamed at the unfolding scene.
Harry dodged just in time, anger flaring.
He grabbed his broom's handle, lifted it, accelerated, turned sharply, and kicked Crabbe straight at Malfoy.
"Ah!"
Crabbe and his broom collided with Malfoy, though at a low speed, causing the two to stumble midair a few times.
The Gryffindors burst into laughter.
"What a shame, Malfoy," Harry said with a relaxed smile.
Malfoy, furious, almost crashed into Harry at several times the speed before.
Harry kept an eye on him, quickly evading and taunting, "I think Hedwig can fly better than you!"
Malfoy said nothing and turned sharply, rushing at Harry again.
Harry accelerated to keep distance.
The two zipped through the air, speeding up and slowing down, sometimes close, sometimes far apart.
Malfoy's experience let him close the gap skillfully.
Harry was nervous at first but grew smoother with each pass.
He wouldn't be fooled twice.
Soon, they flew beyond Madam Hooch's designated area, exceeding the height of the third-floor windows.
Madam Hooch finally noticed them.
She waved her wand and shouted in a booming voice, "Stop! Come down immediately!"
Malfoy ignored her.
His father was a school director—he felt untouchable.
He was determined to teach Harry a lesson.
Harry hesitated but saw Malfoy's malicious glare and felt a chill down his spine.
Professor McGonagall, watching from her office window, had a sparkle in her eyes—as if witnessing something valuable.
Harry's hair whipped wildly in the wind.
His mind was clear.
If he slowed down, Malfoy would knock him off and break him like Neville's broom.
But he couldn't keep flying like this forever; he had to find a way out.
Harry accelerated toward the clock tower, gaining speed rapidly—ready to collide.
Malfoy, chasing behind, believed he had read Harry's plan:
The scarred boy must hesitate to speed up and risk hitting the tower.
When Harry slowed and turned, Malfoy would catch him and deal the punishment.
Malfoy was smug—how could a Gryffindor fool him?
He resolved that if Harry didn't turn, he wouldn't either—even if they crashed into the tower, Harry would get blamed.
They rushed faster, nearly colliding with the tower.
Onlookers gasped.
Some girls covered their eyes.
Many couldn't bear to watch what would happen next.
At the last moment, Harry executed a nearly 90-degree vertical turn up the tower wall.
He climbed quickly and landed on the eaves, panting.
Harry loved flying fast—the rapid turns, the rise and fall.
He liked the thrill.
Malfoy failed to react in time, crashed into the wall, and tumbled down.
Trees cushioned his fall somewhat, but his broom shattered.
Malfoy groaned and fainted.
Harry landed and felt lost.
He only wanted to shake off Malfoy but never imagined it would end this way.
Madam Hooch hurried over.
She didn't blame Harry and quickly checked Malfoy's injuries.
Harry overheard her whisper: "A broken hand, a leg, and a few ribs—but he'll be okay."
Madam Hooch instructed everyone to return their brooms.
She levitated Malfoy's robes and carried him off to find Madam Pomfrey.
Though Madam Hooch didn't blame him, Harry felt uneasy.
Malfoy was hurt and got what he deserved—but still, guilt gnawed at Harry.
Maybe there was a better way out.
Ron rushed over and saw Harry's downcast expression.
Thinking Harry was just scared, he patted his shoulder.
"Harry, are you okay?"
Harry forced a smile.
"I'm fine. Malfoy's injured."
Hermione interrupted: "You're in trouble. Professor McGonagall might expel you."
Harry's face paled further.
Ron was at a loss for words.
"Harry Potter!" Professor McGonagall stormed toward them.
Harry's legs weakened.
McGonagall fixed her gaze on him.
"I've been at Hogwarts for years... and never—"
Her voice broke, eyes flashing with anger.
"How dare you... You could have broken your neck!"
She took Harry aside.
Ron, Neville, and Seamus were devastated, convinced Harry would be expelled.
Only Loren watched with amazement, unbothered.
Is this the will of the Steins;Gate?