It was a clear day with a gentle breeze. When Shawn and Justin walked across the sloping grass toward a flat meadow, warm wind rippled across the lawn like invisible hands. Beyond the Quidditch pitch lay the dark Forbidden Forest, the place Headmaster Dumbledore had strictly forbidden entry to. Occasional strange sounds drifted from within, drawing awed and curious glances from young wizards. The mysteries hidden beyond those twisted trees seemed to pulse with ancient magic.
Over twenty broomsticks lay arranged neatly on the ground, looking old and worn with protruding twigs. Some bristles were matted and bent. Others looked like they'd seen decades of hard use. No wonder Justin had voiced his concern earlier.
"Not really," Shawn said. "Because wizards invented the Cushioning Charm."
Justin turned to listen carefully.
"In 1820, Elliot Smethwyk invented the Cushioning Charm, greatly advancing broomstick comfort," Shawn continued. "The charm is woven into the bristles themselves. It absorbs impact and disperses the force throughout the broom structure."
Shawn's voice wasn't loud, but nearby young wizards still exclaimed, "I see." The information seemed to ease their anxieties somewhat.
Soon, the beautiful meadow, like an oil painting, was filled with long-robed students. The Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff first-years gathered in clusters, examining the broomsticks with varying degrees of confidence. The morning sun cast long shadows across the grass.
Brisk footsteps announced the arrival of a woman who looked remarkably efficient. Her gaze was sharp and commanding as she surveyed the assembled young wizards.
"Well, what are you waiting for?" she barked. "Everyone, stand beside a broomstick. Come on now, hurry up!"
Her yellow eyes were as sharp as a hawk's, constantly scanning for any mistakes or hesitation. Her short gray hair fluttered slightly in the breeze. Her voice was urgent and rapid, brooking no delays.
This was Madam Rolanda Hooch, the Hogwarts Flying Instructor.
"They call her Madam Hooch," Michael appeared from nowhere, offering an explanation in hushed tones. "Besides teaching flying, Madam Hooch also serves as Hogwarts' Quidditch referee."
Referee? Hearing this word, Shawn recalled interesting tidbits from Quidditch Through the Ages. He'd read the book obsessively over the past days.
The passage came back to him vividly: [For centuries, there have been many instances of tampering with the referee's broomstick. The most dangerous involved transforming the referee's broom into a Portkey. Midway through the match, the referee was rapidly transported away from the pitch and mysteriously appeared in the Sahara Desert months later.]
Dangerous work indeed.
Just reaching the broomsticks, Shawn heard Michael's despairing cry pierce through the chatter.
"The Comet?" Michael's voice cracked with dismay. "Didn't the Universal Broomstick Company that made it go bankrupt in 1978? Where did Hogwarts get these rare vintage editions?!"
This made Shawn properly examine his own broomstick. He ran his fingers along the shaft, testing its weight and balance. Fortunately, it was a Sweeping Seven, a reliable model from the 1950s. At least he could find its manual if needed.
The other young wizards with rare vintage editions could only hope for the best. Some looked nervous, holding their unfamiliar brooms. One Hufflepuff clutched a Comet nervously, as if it might explode in his hands.
Madam Hooch stepped forward, her gaze sweeping across the assembled students like a hawk surveying its territory. She planted her feet firmly on the ground.
"Before you use the broomsticks, I must warn you," she said sharply. "If anyone attempts to fly off directly, Longbottom's yesterday becomes your today."
The young wizards listened intently, sensing her seriousness.
"He was fortunate to only break his wrist," Madam Hooch continued, "but with bad luck, breaking your neck takes just a moment!"
Young wizards suddenly felt a chill down their necks despite the warm afternoon. One Hufflepuff even fearfully covered their neck as if they might become like Sir Nicholas the next second, a ghost floating through Hogwarts for eternity.
"Now, face your broomsticks and say 'Up!' loudly!" Madam Hooch commanded.
"Up!" Young wizards excitedly incanted, eager to begin.
Some succeeded on the first try, like Justin. His broomstick bounced twice, then landed smoothly in his hand. He grinned with satisfaction.
Others struggled mightily, like Terry and Michael. Their broomsticks either didn't move at all or half-heartedly bounced twice before falling back to the ground.
Shawn mimicked Madam Hooch's intonation carefully: "Up."
He gripped the broomstick. It was docile as a young deer, responding immediately to his command. This momentarily stunned Shawn. The broomstick had leaped into his hand before he'd even finished speaking.
"All right, mount the broomsticks," Madam Hooch commanded loudly. "When I blow the whistle, push with your legs and leave the ground. Push hard."
The young wizards climbed onto their brooms, settling carefully onto the bristled seats. Their weight shifted nervously as they gripped the handles.
After young wizards mounted and settled briefly, Madam Hooch spoke again decisively: "Hold the broomstick steady, rise a few feet, then lean slightly forward and drop vertically back to ground. Listen for my whistle. Three, two..."
On the broomsticks, young wizards were quite panicked. Some trembled entirely, their hands shaking against the wooden shafts. Their faces went pale.
Yet among Ravenclaws, Shawn remained calmest. He didn't plan to fly high. Instead, he focused entirely on using Sir Cadogan's technique—the secret knowledge the portrait knight had shared.
Broomstick flight is driven by magical power. Master yourself.
After shifting his entire weight onto the broomstick, feeling how it responded to his body, Shawn vaguely sensed something beneath the surface. A current. A presence. When the broomstick tilted left or right in his mental visualization, hidden power surged like electricity.
Braking Charm, Ascension Charm, Turning Charm—each movement required accessing a different magical thread woven into the broomstick.
As his consciousness immersed completely in this magical dance, Madam Hooch's final instruction arrived: "One! Blow."
The sharp whistle sounded like a hawk's cry, cutting through the afternoon air. Young wizards shot skyward like reversed raindrops, their bodies suddenly lighter than air.
One Ravenclaw suddenly tilted his broomstick with panic, roaring straight toward the sky at increasing speed. Fortunately, his nerve failed him, and his speed wasn't dangerously fast. Madam Hooch yanked him down silently with a simple gesture.
Another Hufflepuff did the opposite, diving headfirst toward the ground with terrified screams. Madam Hooch reacted quickly, catching him with a straw conjured from thin air. He tumbled into it safely.
More young wizards tumbled from their broomsticks in wild panic, their screams filling the field. Madam Hooch sweated profusely, sometimes grabbed hard by panicking students clinging desperately to her robes.
"I'm falling!" a Hufflepuff shrieked.
Madam Hooch directly hit them with a jet of water, clearing their heads and shocking them into composure.
About five or six young wizards managed circling flights successfully. But flying smoothest, most decisive, most elegantly? Undoubtedly, the pale-faced Ravenclaw.
Shawn climbed higher, feeling the magical currents respond to his will as naturally as breathing. Each movement was fluid, instinctive. The broomstick became an extension of himself.
[You practiced flying once at Proficient standard, Proficiency +10]
[You practiced flying once at Proficient standard, Proficiency +10]
The panel notifications kept sounding. Shawn's flying grew increasingly skillful with each ascent. He felt that subtle magical power, sensing the mystery behind it completely.
This was simple manipulation. To turn left, guide the broomstick's leftward Turning Charm with your magic. To stop, touch the Braking Charm with delicate magic power. To ascend, channel the Ascension Charm upward. Magic, or rather, faint magic responding to will, was like a key making broomsticks "obey."
What Shawn didn't know was that because most broomsticks had built-in braking mechanisms, most young wizards merely used them as mechanical tools. His control was what Quidditch players needed—what separated amateurs from professionals. They called it "telepathy with your teammate." A connection so complete that rider and broom moved as one entity.
"Is that... Shawn?" Michael trembled on his low-flying broomstick. Despite his relatively low altitude, he felt terrified watching the pale wizard.
Looking up at that free "bird" in the sky, Michael hardly dared believe what he was witnessing. Shawn moved with complete grace and confidence, performing aerial maneuvers that should have taken weeks to master.
[You practiced flying once at Proficient standard, Proficiency +10]
[Flying Technique unlocked]
[New Flying domain title unlocked, please check]
[One wizard talent unlocked, please check]
The notifications continued uninterrupted. Shawn had never felt so free in his entire life.
For his frail body, running and jumping were mere dreams—things other children took for granted, but he could never truly experience. His muscles were weak. His lungs tired easily.
Yet the flying broomstick let him feel again that wind whistling past his ears, that sensation of movement and speed and absolute freedom. His hair streamed behind him. His heart raced with exhilaration.
Passion ignited in his heart like the crackling fireplace in the orphanage's broken old hall, that ancient hearth where he'd spent countless cold nights before receiving his Hogwarts letter. For the first time since leaving that orphanage, he felt truly alive.