3:30 PM.
After Charms class, their Flying Lesson was about to take place on the grounds in front of the castle's main entrance.
It was a clear, breezy day.
White clouds shaped like sheep floated across the azure sky.
As they hurried down the sloping lawn towards a flat patch of grass on the opposite side of the grounds, the lush green grass rippled beneath their feet.
Beyond the lawn lay the forest, where dark trees swayed in the distance.
The Slytherin students were already there, along with twenty broomsticks laid out neatly in lines on the ground.
Basil spotted Draco Malfoy immediately.
His pale blond hair shimmered gold in the sunlight.
But he looked shrunken and thin, standing timidly beside Crabbe and Goyle.
He stared longingly at the brooms on the ground, clearly wanting to touch one.
Basil couldn't help but think of the photo of Narcissa Malfoy he had seen in Witch Weekly in his previous life.
She was much prettier than in the movies!
That tall figure, fair skin, long blonde hair, and cool, glamorous face. A high nose bridge and thin lips that seemed ready to curl into a sneer at any moment.
In the moving photograph, her nose was turned up high, wearing an arrogant expression as if she smelled something foul.
It bore a striking resemblance to the expression Draco Malfoy had on the train when he extended his hand like he was granting a favor.
If that face showed the same pitiful expression Draco had right now...
Hiss! Should I become Draco's stepfather after I eliminate Lucius Malfoy?
"Narcissa, you don't want Draco to be bullied as an orphan, do you?"
Thinking about such "important life events," Basil still maintained a smile as bright as the wind, exuding the aura of a sunny, cheerful boy.
This relaxed Hermione, who was muttering nervously while staring at her broom.
In her eyes, Basil's brow was slightly furrowed, looking a bit melancholic.
Yet he remained strong and independent, masking everything with a bright smile.
The breeze lifted his golden hair, carrying the fresh scent of grass after rain into her nose.
For a moment, she even forgot that not far away, their Flying instructor—Madam Hooch, a woman with short gray hair and yellow eyes like a hawk—was watching them.
Hooch barked, "That girl with the brown hair! What are you dawdling for!"
"Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up."
But when she got to Basil, who was still standing still, her voice unconsciously softened.
"Child, come here."
She casually picked out the best broom and walked over to Basil.
"Here. Use this broom for the lesson. Class is starting."
Basil, who was still daydreaming, snapped back to reality.
The image of the fragile, coldly beautiful Narcissa in his mind was instantly overwritten by this butch, hawk-eyed woman's face.
Suppressing the urge to take a step back, Basil accepted the broom with a normal expression.
He walked to stand between a blushing Hermione and a jealous-looking Ron.
Harry looked down at his broom. It was old and battered, with twigs sticking out at odd angles.
Then he looked at Basil's: clean as new, with neat twigs forming a perfect tail.
He suddenly understood how Ron felt.
"Why is Madam Hooch so gentle with you?!" Ron muttered under his breath.
Neville, Seamus, and Dean were standing together, looking distracted.
They eyed the brooms in front of them as if they were venomous snakes.
Basil looked at Neville.
The "Second Savior."
In group living, students with similar interests, personalities, or backgrounds often formed cliques, consciously or unconsciously.
Gryffindor students liking to break rules was an example of this.
While the Sorting Hat played a role, it was also a case of individuals being influenced by the group.
This was why Basil disliked the Sorting system.
A person's character couldn't be simply divided into four attributes.
A month had passed, and their year had formed small groups based on complementary personalities.
Even though Basil had tried to pull him in...
Neville had unknowingly drifted apart from them.
He hung out more with Seamus and Dean (who shared a dorm with second-years).
The only three Gryffindor first-year girls—Hermione, Lavender, and Parvati—shared a dorm. But Lavender and Parvati barely talked to Hermione.
Instead, they hung out with Parvati's twin sister, Padma, in Ravenclaw.
And Basil himself had formed a clique with Harry and Ron, with Hermione joining as an attachment.
"Looks like crafting Neville's Echo is a bust," Basil sighed internally.
The Flying Lesson officially began.
"Stick out your right hand over your broom," Madam Hooch called from the front, "and say 'Up!'"
"Up!" Basil's broom jumped obediently into his hand.
Harry's did the same.
To Basil's surprise, Draco Malfoy's broom was equally obedient.
However, beside him, Crabbe and Goyle's brooms didn't budge.
Just like Neville's.
"It seems Malfoy becoming a Seeker later wasn't entirely due to his father's money."
Basil glanced at Ron.
Ron's broom jumped into his hand too.
Basil walked over to Neville and whispered, "Brooms are like horses; they can sense if you're afraid. You have courage, but clearly, you prefer the ground to the sky right now."
"Thanks, Basil." Neville nodded.
He closed his eyes, ready to try again.
However, Madam Hooch seemed impatient.
She wasn't willing to give other students who hadn't succeeded yet—including Neville—more time.
She hastily called a stop. "Alright, broom summoning is over."
"Now, mount your brooms."
She shouted at Seamus (whose mother was a witch but father was a Muggle, so he hadn't actually touched a broom before).
"Boy! Don't worry, it won't crush your bits! All brooms have a Cushioning Charm."
Basil, who had also never ridden a broom, mounted his. A comfortable sense of embrace surrounded his lower body.
It felt floaty, like sitting on a soft cloud.
The invisible cushion created by magic was truly incomparable to any physical padding!
He couldn't help but voice his thought: "No wonder broomsticks are so popular. It feels... hiss... comfortable!"
"Neville, you try it too. It's really comfy."
Neville trembled as he mounted the broom, sitting stiffly.
But as he felt the cushion, his expression relaxed.
Next, Madam Hooch went around correcting their grip.
But when she got to Malfoy, things changed.
Madam Hooch's repeated corrections and criticisms caused Malfoy to snap.
All the negative emotions from recent events exploded.
"Shut up! You old hag! This is how the greatest Seeker, Gwenog Jones, holds her broom!"
Madam Hooch wasn't angry at first; she was surprised.
"You're a fan of the Holyhead Harpies? But that's an all-female team!"
"Child, that grip is more suitable for women."
"You don't have... obstructions in the chest area, so you don't need to hold it like that. Besides, doing so puts all the pressure on your lower body, which isn't good for male reproductive organs."
Ron burst into laughter.
So did Crabbe.
Madam Hooch didn't notice Ron, but she spoke sternly to Crabbe. "Don't laugh at your classmate."
She didn't notice Malfoy's hand reaching into his pocket.
"Furnunculus!" Malfoy shrieked.
The movement was so fast that no one reacted in time.
A jet of light hit Crabbe.
Crabbe stopped laughing.
Screaming in pain, he covered his nose as large, ugly boils began to erupt all over it.
"How dare you!" Madam Hooch was truly angry now.
She grabbed Draco by the ear.
Draco didn't resist. His face was filled with the pleasure of revenge.
As he looked triumphant, the Slytherins around him looked at him with renewed awe and fear.
Especially Goyle.
"And you." Madam Hooch looked at Crabbe with disgust. "You come too. While I take this boy to the Head of Slytherin's office, go to the Hospital Wing yourself."
"The rest of you, no one moves until I get back! Put the brooms back where they were, or I'll take points!"
"Oh, and 10 points from Slytherin!"
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