Finally came the afternoon Flying Class, and like all the other first-years, Jelaire excitedly headed down to the grounds.
Madam Hooch was already their instructor.
She distributed brooms to the new students and ordered everyone to command their brooms.
Jelaire looked down and called out, “Up!” The broom instantly jumped into his hand, even twisting slightly as if fawning over him.
Jelaire felt as though the broom was a summoned beast.
He straddled the broom and kicked off the ground lightly.
The broom floated up, slowly flying through the low air according to his will.
Jelaire didn’t dislike flying; in fact, he quite enjoyed the feeling of being airborne.
In the past, when traveling on missions, although the rush was intense, he had always felt relaxed—because no one demanded that a ninja kill while traveling.
Those were rare moments of safety for him.
However, Jelaire remembered Harry Potter’s experience during his Flying Class: flying too well meant getting recruited onto the Quidditch team, and he wasn’t yet sure if he wanted to join.
So he kept himself in check, enjoying the flight while putting on an utterly average performance.
That evening brought another detention.
This time Jelaire didn’t encounter any ambushes on the way.
Instead, every Slytherin student he came across turned a blind eye to him.
Seeing this, he felt even more certain they had been scolded.
Was this not the stubborn defiance of children who couldn’t be beaten or yelled at, forced by parents to apologize yet refusing to bow their heads?
Arriving at the office, Jelaire didn’t forget to offer a greeting this time.
Professor Snape seemed to have forgotten the previous detention and simply pointed as usual, directing him to handle ingredients on the side, with instructions written on a piece of parchment nearby.
This time, he had to prepare black beetle eyes.
Before processing, they were filthy, covered in dust, soil, and insect body fragments.
Jelaire guessed these were likely first-hand goods bought from a magical ingredients supplier—cheap, and able to make use of Hogwarts’ abundant “cheap labor.” A double win.
Preparing the eyes wasn’t difficult: soak in clean water, wipe dry with a soft cloth, use tweezers to remove impurities, and finally peel out a pristine, glossy black eye.
The challenge lay in their small size and fragility; apply a bit too much pressure, and the eye would pop.
To make things easier, Jelaire pulled over a stool and sat down, propping his arms on the desk.
He arranged the baskets within easy reach and got to work.
But when he looked up during a break and saw Jelaire’s relaxed, nonchalant posture, he frowned deeply.
He stood up and strode over behind Jelaire, opening his mouth to deliver a scolding, only to freeze in shock at the sight of Jelaire processing beetle eyes with assembly-line precision, one after another.
Jelaire was completely absorbed in the rapid rhythm of his manual assembly line.
Finding his groove, he popped out one eye after another, eventually even humming a light tune right under Professor Snape’s nose.
The melody was sporadic, but the singer’s ease was undeniable.
Professor Snape: …unsure whether to scold or praise him.
Jelaire felt this detention went by quickly.
Finishing the one in his hand, he reached into the basket—empty.
Only then did he realize he had processed every single black beetle eye.
Left wanting more, he turned to inform the professor that the task was complete.
Professor Snape said nothing, merely waving a hand to dismiss him.
Only after the door closed did he stare thoughtfully toward the workstation.
*Could he actually possess a genuine talent…?*
Jelaire happily returned to the Ravenclaw common room.
It wasn’t even nine o’clock yet, so everyone was still awake.
“No classes tomorrow, so sleeping a bit late tonight shouldn’t hurt, right?” Jack said with an innocent blink.
For once, Jelaire relaxed for the evening.
Instead of doing homework or reading, he chatted with his housemates, listened to upperclassmen talk about magical research and school gossip, swapped information with other first-years, and played simple, mindless games.
They were far more child-like than Jelaire, with simpler minds, making it much easier for them to make friends with new students from other houses.
Unlike Jelaire, who rarely reached out to other first-years and had only two or three friends.
However, as he listened, Jelaire’s mood darkened.
There were things the first-years might not perceive—noticing things dimly without understanding why—but Jelaire could clearly read the underlying situation.
The current situation was not like a fairy tale where the arch-villain dies and the prince and princess live happily ever after.
The years of Voldemort and his Death Eaters running rampant had been far too dark.
Especially during 1980 and 1981, as Voldemort split his soul multiple times and lost his sanity, the Death Eaters grew increasingly cruel and ruthless. You are reading on novelping.com, the official source.
It was fair to say that at least half the wizards in Britain had been persecuted by Death Eater forces, and countless wizards had died at their hands.
Voldemort’s death (or what most currently believed to be his death) had come too abruptly.
Both sides were left flustered and failed to manage the transition smoothly.
As a result, many wizards from Slytherin refused to believe that great figure had failed.
They continued to resist, indoctrinating their children with these ideas and bringing them into Hogwarts.
Meanwhile, the righteous faction led by the Order of the Phoenix harbored deep hatred for wizards who held on to pure-blood ideology.
At first, they too hadn’t dared believe Voldemort was dead, but with Headmaster Dumbledore vouching for it, they chose to trust and eagerly welcomed the arrival of peace.
Yet the wizarding population was small compared to Muggles, and intermarriage was common.
In a single family, a brother-in-law might have followed the Death Eaters while a sister-in-law was murdered by them.
During wartime, they had reasons to hate one another.
But with Voldemort gone, both sides seemed to lose their justification for hatred.
There was no master to follow, no killers to blame; when the two groups met, they were met only with uncomfortable silence and awkwardness.
This same dynamic played out within Hogwarts.
Mutual hatred, shattered beliefs, arrogant posturing, underdog comebacks, displacement, and awkward encounters—Jelaire summed it up: these young witches and wizards were utterly lost inside.
They didn’t know what was right or wrong, capable only of blindly following past habits or their elders’ teachings.
But this was fundamentally wrong.
This was Hogwarts, the cradle of all British wizards, not a petri dish for dark corruption.
Headmaster Dumbledore and the professors needed to step in and guide them!
Perhaps Professor Dumbledore had the same intention.
A few weeks later, a huge—a truly massive—notice was posted on the Great Hall notice board, stretching across the entire corridor wall.
It announced that at the Halloween feast in late October, Headmaster Dumbledore would hold a lively celebration and cordially invited students from all houses to perform.
No limit on themes or group sizes.
Sign-ups were open until mid-October, and any approved performance could receive guidance or assistance from the professors.
After the feast, the entire school would vote for the five favorite performances.
Winning group members would receive rewards ranging from 10 to 100 Galleons, and every member of the first-place performance would also receive a Special Award for Services to the School (Collective), commending their contribution to enriching campus life.
The moment the announcement went up, the entire student body erupted, completely forgetting who held a grudge against whom or who disliked whom.