Thursday afternoon brought another flying lesson to the lawns of Hogwarts' fourth courtyard.
Winter was approaching quickly now, and the autumn wind sweeping through the castle grounds carried a sharp chill that made students pull their robes tighter around themselves. Beneath Madam Hooch's watchful supervision, the first-year Gryffindor and Slytherin students soared through the air on broomsticks in reasonably organized formations.
The cold breeze whipped through the courtyard, sending scarves and robes fluttering wildly as young witches and wizards streaked across the sky.
Among the crowd, two figures stood out immediately.
Harry Potter.
Draco Malfoy.
After more than a month of training with their respective Quidditch teams, both boys had improved tremendously. Their aerial movements had already surpassed what most first-years could hope to achieve.
Draco was especially eye-catching today.
His green-trimmed Slytherin robes billowed dramatically behind him as he guided his broom through the air with practiced precision. With a graceful pull on the handle, he executed a smooth aerial spin that immediately drew gasps from nearby students.
His expression radiated confidence and pride.
Naturally, Harry had no intention of surrendering the spotlight.
The moment Draco completed his maneuver, Harry tightened his grip on his broom and accelerated instantly. His Nimbus shot across the field like a bolt of lightning, moving so quickly that several students nearly lost sight of him altogether.
Of course, there was one more person drawing attention.
Leo Nicholas.
Unlike everyone else, Leo wasn't even sitting properly on his broom.
Instead, he lounged sideways across it while casually eating snacks from his pocket. Every now and then, he glanced around to make sure Madam Hooch wasn't paying too much attention to him.
Unfortunately for Leo, Madam Hooch had already noticed.
If Harry and Draco could be described as exceptionally talented flyers, then Leo's control bordered on the absurd.
Flying normally was difficult enough for beginners.
Flying sideways while maintaining perfect balance and flawless control was an entirely different matter.
Rather than attending a lesson, Leo looked more like a tourist enjoying a scenic cruise through the clouds.
Truthfully, he still found broomsticks slightly inelegant. Sitting properly on one felt awkward no matter how accustomed he became to flying, which was why he preferred lounging sideways whenever possible.
Still, soaring through the sky remained undeniably addictive.
As Leo drifted through the crisp autumn air, he watched the students around him laughing and flying freely above the Hogwarts grounds.
For a brief moment, he found himself feeling unexpectedly emotional.
Back in the non-magical world, humanity had spent centuries chasing the dream of flight. Countless inventors, scientists, and dreamers had dedicated their lives to conquering the sky.
Yet in the wizarding world, the process was absurdly simple.
Have magic.
Use a broom.
Or, if you were powerful enough, fly yourself.
Two entirely different civilizations had reached the same dream through completely different paths.
It really was incredible.
While Leo remained lost in thought, Harry and Draco exchanged glances high above the courtyard.
The moment their eyes met, both immediately understood the other's intentions.
Harry grinned.
"Draco!" he shouted through the wind. "Race you!"
Draco lifted his chin proudly.
"Why would I refuse? Just try not to embarrass yourself, Potter!"
The two quickly descended to Madam Hooch, obtained permission for a supervised race, and moved to opposite ends of the field.
Then the race began.
The instant Madam Hooch gave the signal, both boys shot forward like arrows released from a bowstring.
The speed immediately drew excited screams from nearby students.
Harry and Draco streaked through the sky while weaving around one another with dazzling precision. Sometimes they dove sharply toward the ground before pulling upward at the last possible moment. Other times they spiraled around each other in tight aerial curves resembling professional Quidditch maneuvers.
Watching them felt less like observing first-year students and more like watching future league players.
The surrounding students quickly erupted into discussion.
"That turn Malfoy just did looked exactly like a Seeker maneuver!"
"I heard professional players use that move during matches!"
"But Potter's dive earlier was incredible too. It looked almost identical to a Chaser technique!"
Even their friends became completely absorbed in the race.
Charlotte clapped enthusiastically from below.
"Come on!"
It wasn't entirely clear which boy she was cheering for. Judging by her enthusiasm, she might have been supporting both.
Nearby, Neville stared upward in amazement.
"I wish I could fly like that someday," he said quietly.
Compared to the terrified boy who had once struggled just to get a broom off the ground, Neville had improved enormously. At the very least, he could now fly comfortably alongside the other students.
Hermione watched the race with analytical focus.
"With skills like those," she said thoughtfully, "they really could stand out during this year's Quidditch matches."
Not far away, Pansy Parkinson and Ron Weasley had already begun arguing.
"It's obviously Harry," Ron declared confidently while crossing his arms. "Harry's a brilliant flyer."
Despite his confidence, however, his eyes kept darting nervously between the racers.
Even Ron wasn't entirely sure who would win.
The two looked almost evenly matched.
Pansy immediately scoffed.
"Please. Draco's talent is unmatched."
The argument continued without either side showing the slightest intention of backing down.
Meanwhile, Crabbe and Goyle enthusiastically cheered for Draco from the sidelines like loyal soldiers witnessing a military victory.
Everyone's attention remained focused on Harry and Draco soaring through the air.
Everyone except Carlo Zabini.
Standing slightly apart from the crowd, Carlo watched the race silently.
His eyes followed the two boys as they effortlessly commanded everyone's attention.
A strange darkness slowly emerged within his expression.
Then the voice returned.
"Look at them..."
The whisper echoed softly inside his mind.
"Everyone is watching them."
Carlo's grip tightened around his broomstick.
"You should be up there too."
The voice became smoother.
Warmer.
More persuasive.
"You're not inferior to them."
His breathing gradually quickened.
"You're a pure-blood wizard."
"You deserve that attention."
"You should be the one they admire."
A surge of jealousy suddenly rose within Carlo's chest.
Why was it always Potter and Malfoy?
Why were they always the center of attention?
Why were they always the ones shining?
The envy buried deep within him rapidly intensified under the influence of the mysterious voice. What had once been ordinary frustration slowly twisted into something ugly and irrational.
Finally, Carlo snapped.
"Hmph. You're nothing special!" he shouted toward the sky. "Watch me do better!"
Without waiting for permission, Carlo kicked off the ground and launched into the air.
No one noticed the faint crimson tint spreading through his eyes.
No one noticed the unnatural distortion creeping across his expression.
As he accelerated upward, Carlo suddenly pulled out his wand and pointed it directly at his broom.
Then he began muttering a string of incomprehensible words beneath his breath.
The sounds were wrong.
Ancient.
Unpleasant.
Disturbing.
A strange wave of magic flowed from his wand into the broomstick.
Instantly, the broom began trembling violently.
Then its speed exploded.
The acceleration was terrifying.
The broom surged forward several times faster than before, tearing through the sky like a missile possessed by madness.
Within seconds, Carlo caught up to Harry and Draco.
Neither of them noticed him approaching from behind.
....
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