Thursday at Hogwarts.
The sky was crystal clear, with just the right amount of sunlight and a gentle breeze.
Flying Class.
The flying grounds were located on the lawn on the west side of the castle, right next to the edge of the Forbidden Forest.
The Gryffindor first-years were having their flying lesson with the Slytherin students.
Twenty-one young wizards from the two houses flooded out of the castle’s main entrance, though they remained clearly divided.
Standing among them, Damon could feel hostile glares coming from the Slytherin ranks.
After all, he had publicly embarrassed the Head of Slytherin House, so their hostility was entirely expected.
However, Damon’s attention was not on such trivial matters.
He noticed that there were many statues of historically famous magical figures erected around the school, such as the four founders of Hogwarts, and even Merlin.
While these statues might only hold symbolic and commemorative value for others, they had a much more special use for him, the wielder of the Rat Talisman.
The divine power of giving motion to the still could not only bring inanimate objects to life, but also grant them the memories and abilities of their original selves.
Lost in thought, Damon arrived at the flying grounds before he knew it.
Twenty-one old broomsticks lay lined up on the ground, radiating the wear and tear of time.
“These brooms are so battered.
We’re not going to fall out of the sky mid-flight, are we?” someone grumbled under their breath.
“The broomstick I have at home is way better than these.
I ride it all the time to play Quidditch.” “My father is a school governor.
Maybe I should write him a letter to have all these ancient brooms replaced with new ones,” Draco Malfoy bragged, craning his neck proudly among the Slytherins.
“If you can actually manage that, Mr.
Malfoy, I would be more than happy to see it,” a voice called out from a distance.
It was Madam Hooch, the flying instructor.
She had short, gray hair, and her hawk-like yellow eyes swept over the crowd.
Everyone fell silent instantly, and Malfoy didn’t dare joke around anymore.
“Well, what are you waiting for?
Everyone stand next to a broomstick.
Hurry, hurry, hurry!” Madam Hooch barked.
The students scrambled to the brooms.
Damon walked over to the broom on the very end and looked down.
It was a bit old, but it seemed sturdy enough.
Harry Potter, standing beside him, wasn’t so lucky; his broom was ancient and battered, with some of the twigs sticking out at odd angles.
“Stick your right hand out over your broom,” called Madam Hooch, “and say, ‘Up!'” “Up!” everyone shouted.
Some jumped into their owners’ hands, some just rolled over on the ground, and others didn’t move at all.
Damon’s broom leaped cleanly into his palm, as docile as a well-behaved cat.
Harry’s was also clean and swift.
Damon noticed that very few people present managed it as easily as Harry did.
Not far away, Hermione saw Damon and Harry’s success.
She gritted her teeth in secret, shouting louder and louder, time after time, until the broom finally rose reluctantly into her hand.
As for Neville, Damon could only say that the boy needed a bit more self-confidence.
Next, Madam Hooch taught them how to mount their brooms properly without sliding off the end, and showed them the correct grip.
“Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard,” Madam Hooch said.
“Keep your brooms steady, don’t rush, just rise a few feet.” Before the whistle could sound, an accident occurred.
Neville Longbottom’s broom bolted without warning.
Like a startled wild horse, it carried him up, pitching and bucking wildly.
Neville screamed, hugging the broom for dear life, his face deathly pale.
“Longbottom!
Come back down!” Madam Hooch shouted.
But Neville had no control at all.
The broom flew higher and higher, veering off course, until it gave a violent jerk— “Ah—!” The broomstick flew off, free.
Neville fell from a height of ten feet, hitting the grass with a nasty thud, and immediately let out a piercing, agonized shriek.
Fortunately, the fact that he could scream meant he was still salvageable.
“Broken wrist,” Madam Hooch said, stepping over quickly and bending down to examine him.
Her face was equally pale.
“Poor boy, we need to get him to the hospital wing right away.” She helped Neville up and turned to glare at the crowd.
“None of you is to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing!
If anyone so much as lifts a broom, they’ll be out of Hogwarts before they can say ‘Quidditch’!” With that, she supported Neville as they limped toward the castle.
The lawn instantly erupted into chaos.
“Did you see that idiot Longbottom?” a shrill voice sneered from the Slytherin side.
“Can’t even handle a broom.
He can’t do anything right.
What a complete fool.” Damon looked over.
Draco Malfoy was standing proudly in the crowd, his pale blonde hair gleaming in the sunlight.
“Hey!
Look what I found!” Malfoy was holding a small glass ball that looked like a crystal—it was Neville’s Remembrall, which Damon had seen Neville show off earlier.
“Give it here, Malfoy,” Harry said, stepping forward, his voice low and heavy.
Malfoy sneered.
“What’s the matter, Potter?
Want to fight for it?
Tell you what—I’ll leave it up a tree for him.
Go and get it yourself if you’re so brave.” He kicked off the ground and mounted his broom, shooting dozens of feet into the air in an instant.
The Remembrall in his hand caught the sunlight, reflecting a rainbow of colors.
“Come on, then, famous Savior!
Want to give it a try?” Malfoy called down, his gaze sweeping over Harry before landing on Damon.
“Or perhaps you, Ignis?
The ‘genius’ everyone keeps talking about?
You were awfully smug in Potions!
Want to save your little lackey’s glass ball?
You orphan from a Muggle orphanage…” Before Malfoy could even finish his sentence, Harry moved to grab his broom, but someone else was faster.
Damon mounted his broom and kicked off.
He shot into the sky like a rocket.
He moved so fast that the students on the grass didn’t even have time to blink.
Malfoy’s pupils contracted, and he tried to turn his broom.
But Damon was already right beside him, the two of them hovering side-by-side dozens of feet in the air.
“W-what do you think you’re doing?” Malfoy stammered, trying to sound brave while clutching the Remembrall tightly.
Damon stared at him, a flame erupting from his right hand.
His voice was terrifyingly cold.
“Say that last word.
I’m giving you the chance right now.” “M-Mud…
y-you…
why should I listen to you?” Malfoy’s face flushed crimson.
“Do you dare lay a hand on me?
My father is a school governor!” “Even if your father were God Himself, he couldn’t save you right now.” With that, Damon shot the flame in his hand directly at Malfoy’s broomstick.
Malfoy swerved in a panic.
His body wobbled violently, and his broom spun out of control.
Screaming, he slipped from the sky, his face even paler than Neville’s had been.
The Remembrall slipped from his grasp, falling straight down to be caught perfectly by Harry on the ground.
Damon didn’t let Malfoy’s terror last long.
Diving down, he grabbed the back of Malfoy’s collar with one hand while keeping a steady grip on his broom with the other.
Malfoy kicked and struggled wildly in the air.
“Let go of me!
You…” “Do you want to try that again?” Damon’s tone was calm, but Malfoy fell silent instantly.
*Thump.* Damon dropped Malfoy onto the grass.
Malfoy was a complete mess.
His hair was disheveled, his robes were askew, and his mouth was full of dirt.
Feeling the mocking stares from all around, his expression shifted from anger to pure humiliation.
Just as he was about to blow his top and try to save face, a cold voice spoke from behind them.
“Never in all my time at Hogwarts—!
Could someone please explain why you were flying when Madam Hooch is not here?” Professor McGonagall walked over briskly, glancing at the disheveled Malfoy and then at the broom Damon hadn’t yet put away.
Nobody spoke.
Malfoy spoke up first.
“It was Ignis!
He used fire to blast me off my broom!
I almost fell to my death—it was murder!” Professor McGonagall didn’t look at him, keeping her eyes fixed on Damon instead.
“Mr.
Ignis, what do you have to say for yourself?” Hermione pushed her way out of the crowd and said loudly, “Malfoy took Neville’s Remembrall and refused to give it back.
Damon was only getting it back for Neville.
There was just a minor scuffle during the process.” “She’s lying!” Malfoy shrieked.
“I can testify for Damon!” Harry countered.
“Enough.” Professor McGonagall raised her hand to stop the bickering.
Her gaze swept over the students.
“Mr.
Ignis, follow me.”