In the Great Hall of Hogwarts, the early morning sunlight filtered through the high windows, casting dappled shadows across the long tables.
Stelle sat at the Hufflepuff table, her posture far from elegant—she looked like a small animal settling into its nest.
She picked up a silver fork, squinting one eye against the sunlight as if inspecting its craftsmanship, before slowly poking at a sausage.
“Good morning, Stelle,” Hannah Abbott said as she sat down beside her, letting out a yawn.
“I hope you slept well last night.” Stelle slowly turned her head.
Her golden eyes were still slightly hazy with sleep.
Instead of answering immediately, she spoke in a dramatic, low voice, as if lost in a distant memory: “Last night…
I faced a terrifying enemy.” Hannah froze.
Even Susan, who was pouring pumpkin juice nearby, stopped what she was doing and looked at Stelle in curiosity.
Stelle’s gaze turned distant, and she continued in her storytelling tone, “Last night, while half-asleep, I heard a sound approaching—click-clack, click-clack.
It was the Sleep Demon residing in the Hufflepuff common room!
It slumbers beneath squeaky, uncleaned four-poster beds, feeding specifically on poor, innocent sleepers.” Megan couldn’t help leaning in closer and whispered, “And then?” Stelle suddenly slammed her hand on the table, her golden eyes flashing with the conviction of a detective revealing the sole truth.
“But this time, it picked the wrong opponent!
I am the universe-renowned Trailblazer, the patron saint of the Herta Space Station, and the bane of the Doomsday Beast.
Today was the day I would rid the world of this evil!” Hannah was a bit confused.
“Uh…
what was that long string of titles?” “Never mind that.
Anyway, I crawled out of the wardrobe.” “Y-you crawled into the wardrobe?” Hannah gasped in shock.
Stelle gave a solemn nod.
Mimicking the sound of a creaking door, she suddenly leapt up, swinging her hand as if brandishing an imaginary bat.
She growled in a low voice, “The time has come, demon!
Face the judgment of justice!
Die, Sleep Demon!” She held that bat-swinging pose for a full two seconds before slowly sitting back down.
Her expression returned to absolute calm as she took a sip of milk, looking as if the hot-blooded warrior from a moment ago had been someone else entirely.
“W-what happened next?” Susan couldn’t help but press.
Stelle set her cup down, a small, satisfied curve appearing at the corner of her lips.
She said in a casual tone, “Naturally, I caught the demon.
No matter how powerful, no demon can escape the palms of the Trailblazer.” Megan cried out, “What!
Where is the demon now?” Stelle fished around in her pocket and slowly held out a clenched fist.
Everyone who had been listening held their breath in unison.
Stelle’s hand slowly opened.
Is it coming…
Empty?
Hannah stared at her empty palm, then at her deadpan face, completely speechless.
Susan and Megan froze for a few seconds before bursting into uncontrollable laughter.
Susan snorted.
“Stelle, what kind of nonsense are you spouting again?” “Just the truth.” With an innocent face, Stelle took a bite of her toast and began stacking the scrambled eggs on her plate into a tiny tower.
“After all, battling demons is just another day in the life of a Trailblazer.” Megan laughed helplessly.
“I suppose that’s your duty as the Galactic Batter.” They were starting to get used to their roommate’s occasional bizarre antics.
That afternoon, beside the breezy Quidditch pitch, Madam Hooch stood before a row of old brooms.
Her voice rang out, *Sonorus*, as she faced the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw students, who stood in two neat lines.
“Stick your right hand out over your broom,” called Madam Hooch, “and say, ‘Up!’ clearly and firmly!” “Up!” called the young witches and wizards in a ragged chorus.
The broom of Ravenclaw’s Terry Boot jumped neatly into his hand, a satisfied look spreading across his face.
Hufflepuff’s Justin Finch-Fletchley only succeeded after his second try.
Stelle’s broom lay quietly on the ground, completely motionless.
She blinked.
Instead of calling out again anxiously like the others, she squatted down, leaning close to the broom as if negotiating with it.
“Come on, get up and take me to see the sky, okay?
I’ll buy you…
uh, wait, there’s only grass here.” The broom did not react at all.
Stelle thought for a moment, then reached out a finger to poke the broom handle gently.
She rolled it back and forth, as if studying an unruly, novel toy.
“Does it need some oil?
Or maybe a few pats?” Madam Hooch noticed her unusual behavior and walked over.
“Not like that, dear!
You need to focus your mind!” Stelle looked up, perfectly earnest.
“I’m building a friendly relationship with it.” Under Madam Hooch’s repeated demonstrations and prompting, Stelle finally abandoned her strategy of friendly communication.
She stood back up and looked at the broom on the ground.
Instead of focusing her mind, her thoughts drifted to how March 7th jumped up whenever she took photos.
*She doesn’t jump very high, but I should be able to sit on this thing, right?* She reached her hand out once more, calling casually, “Up!” With a sharp *whoosh*, the broom whipped upward with such force that it nearly jabbed her in the chin.
She scrambled and narrowly caught it, hugging it tightly against her chest.
The movement was far from elegant, even possessing a touch of clumsy charm.
Beside her, Parvati, a Ravenclaw girl, watched this unusual method of taming a broom and shook her head slightly, seemingly finding it lacking in grace.
Next was the basic hover practice.
When the whistle blew, the young students clumsily hovered off the ground.
Stelle mounted the broom, feeling the unfamiliar sensation of support.
Recalling the bounds of gravity, she felt a little nervous, yet a little excited.
Copying the others, she gave a light kick— The broom shot upward with her for a short distance before beginning to wobble uncontrollably from side to side, like a drunken sailor.
“Whoa!” she let out a soft cry.
It wasn’t out of fear, but because…
“This is way more thrilling than a starskiff!” She struggled to maintain her balance, her hands gripping the broom handle tightly as her body adjusted to its wild wobbles.
Her eyes were wide and round, her golden pupils reflecting the vast sky, sparkling with novelty and amusement.
The moment she left the ground, that brief, weightless sensation stirred something deep inside her.
Though she was wobbling severely and could fall at any second, she was flying!
Really, truly, on a stick!
She didn’t try to fly far or high, simply hovering precariously in the low air.
Feeling the wind ruffle her hair and looking at the grass shrinking beneath her feet, a thought popped into her mind: *I wonder if I can ride this broom to climb into some high-up windows?
Or reach that thing on the roof of the Owlery that looks like a treasure chest?* As her imagination ran wild, her golden eyes caught a flash of light from a corner.
In her erratic, swaying field of vision, a wooden knot on an old spectator-stand pillar at the edge of the pitch would briefly shimmer under the sunlight at a specific angle, forming a highly blurry, fleeting smiley-face pattern.
“Huh?” This discovery made her temporarily forget about keeping her balance.
She did her best to control the wobbling broom, attempting to catch that angle once more.
It was difficult, like trying to look through a telescope at a sporadically twinkling Stelle while riding a bucking bronco.
After several failures, she changed her strategy.
Seizing a moment when the broom naturally swayed to the right, instead of resisting, she leaned into it, forcing the broom to swing sharply toward the pillar at an even steeper, more unstable angle.
At the same time, she craned her neck, keeping her eyes glued to the wooden knot.
Got it!
In that split second, the sunlight pierced through the twiggy tail of her swaying broom at a precise, tricky angle.
Beneath the shadow of her flying gray hair, the light fell exactly on the wood grain of the knot.
The knot seemed to come alive, clearly and unmistakably showing a mocking, smiling face.
Immediately after, the center of the knot clicked open like a coin slot, ejecting a gleaming token.
The token traced a brief arc in the air as it plunged downward.
Without a single thought, guided by pure instinct, Stelle shoved her right hand down on the broom handle, causing the nose of the broom to dive sharply toward the ground.
Just as the token was about to hit the dirt, the very tip of the broom’s twigs scooped it upward, catching it by the narrowest of margins!
The plastic disc flipped a few times in the air, finally landing gently on the back of her hand, which had gone slightly pale from exertion.
[Elation Token 2/7 – Obtained from: Old Spectator Stands at the Quidditch Pitch.
Captured from a trap of light and shadow, an applause delivered through a combination of clumsiness and agility.] Stelle stared at the token on the back of her hand, then looked up at the wood knot, which had returned to its ordinary appearance.
She let out a long breath.
Fine beads of sweat dotted her forehead from the intense focus and physical effort, but her eyes shone with the satisfaction of completing a high-difficulty challenge.
“Hidden pretty deep, aren’t you?” she muttered.
An uncontrollable smile played at the corner of her lips as she clenched the token in her hand and slipped it into her pocket.
By the end of the class, Madam Hooch commented that Stelle’s flying was “full of unpredictability,” but at least she hadn’t fallen off.