Flying

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[System Message: Remembrall. It glows red when the owner has forgotten something. Concealed Ability: Detects and alerts the owner when a memory has been tampered with or erased. Glows pulsating blue for tampered memories and red for erased ones. Linked to the bloodline of a noble house, reveals full capabilities only when held by a true heir.]

Looking at the Remembrall, Harry hummed thoughtfully. Neville's status, as revealed by the System, had long confirmed that the boy was under a long-term Confundus Spell. From what he could hear, Neville didn't seem to grasp the true potential of the Remembrall. He believed it only indicated when the holder had forgotten something. Shaking his head, Harry said in his mind, "How can an artifact that can reach into a holder's brain be simple?"

"Indeed, Master Harry," Nigel chimed in, his tone laced with his usual sharpness. "Anything that delves into the mind is rare and powerful. I'd say such an item in the wrong hands could lead to quite the forgettable situation."

As they were watching, the ball in Neville's hand turned red. Harry noticed Draco Malfoy lurking nearby, eyeing the Remembrall with a mischievous glint. As Draco smirked, seemingly about to snatch the ball, his eyes caught a green flash from afar. Turning, he saw Harry looking directly at him. The unspoken message was clear, and Draco, respecting Harry and wary of making an enemy over something so trivial, walked away.

Harry's protection of Neville, though subtle, didn't go unnoticed by those around him. Nigel, observing the scene, remarked, "Seems like the young Malfoy isn't as daft as his hair suggests. A wise move, retreating in the face of the Potter glare."

Harry ignored Nigel's quip, his mind returning to the Remembrall. It was a fascinating artifact, one with hidden depths and potential. He considered the implications of such an object. If it could detect tampered or erased memories, it might be a vital tool in uncovering hidden truths or manipulations. The fact that it linked to the bloodline of a noble house suggested a deeper, more ancient magic at work.

Harry's mind continued to churn with the questions about the Remembrall and Neville's situation. "Nigel, what do you think about Neville's gran sending the Remembrall? It seems a bit too convenient, doesn't it?" Harry pondered aloud.

Nigel responded with his usual flair, "Master Harry, you're delving into a plot thicker than Hagrid's beard. If Neville's gran did send the Remembrall, and she's aware of the boy's condition, then there's more to the Longbottoms than meets the eye. It's either deep concern or deep cunning."

Harry nodded in agreement, his eyes still on the red glow of the Remembrall in Neville's hands. Then if Neville's gran sent it, did she know Neville was under the spell too? Was there another plot he couldn't see? He considered helping Neville with the spell, but he didn't know the caster and he was afraid to make things worse for Neville. What if he dispelled the Confundus, and the caster tried something more drastic? That is why, Harry, despite paining him, so far haven't tried to help Neville with his condition. Harry clicked his tongue as he got up.

In the afternoon, the flying class started in the open field. Standing next to Tracey, who was jumping on the balls of her feet with excitement, Harry waited for Madam Hooch to arrive.

The flying lesson began, with Madam Hooch instructing the students on the basics of broom handling and control. The students, a mix of excitement and nervousness, listened intently.

"Alright, everyone! Stand next to your broomsticks. If you are right-handed, stand on its left, if you are left-handed, do the opposite," instructed Madam Hooch, her eyes scanning the group of first-year students. As everyone took position, she continued, "Stick out your main hand over your broomsticks," she called from the front, "and say, 'Up!'"

While the rest of the class spoke the command, Harry simply willed the broom into his hand. It obediently leaped up, causing Tracey and Daphne to look at him in surprise, while Draco managed to get his broom almost as quickly and nodded in acknowledgment toward Harry.

After everyone had their brooms, Madam Hooch demonstrated how to mount them without sliding off the end and walked up and down the rows, correcting their grips. "Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard," she said. "Keep your broomsticks steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle – three – two –"

However, before she could finish, Harry, his eyes sharp and observant, noticed a faint trace of magic around Neville. Concerned, he walked over to his side. "What are you doing?" Madam Hooch asked, her brow furrowed.

"Sorry, Madam. This broom seems a bit wild," Harry replied smoothly, masking his true intention. Madam Hooch glanced at Neville's broomstick but found nothing amiss. Harry stood next to Neville, then, using a variation of Wingardium Leviosa he had crafted, made the broom act wildly in the air. The truth was, the confundus spell on Neville had just acted, and if left unattended, Neville would have flown erratically, possibly injuring himself. Seeing this, Madam Hooch replaced Neville's broom with a new one.

As Madam Hooch's whistle blew, the students kicked off the ground. Harry kept a close eye on Neville, ensuring his broom remained under control. Around him, students rose and descended with varying degrees of grace and stability. Tracey laughed joyously as she managed a smooth ascent and descent, while Draco's proficiency on the broom was evident, a smug look of satisfaction on his face.

Madam Hooch then whistled again, and everyone descended. "I've seen a few talented ones," she announced, her eyes scanning the students. "Mr. Potter, Ms. Greengrass, Mr. Zabini, Ms. Bones, Ms. Abbott, and Ms. Brown. Please come forward and let's show the rest of the class some maneuvers. I want a controlled flight, and no fighting." The students she named nodded and took their positions. Harry, with a hint of excitement sparking in his eyes, thought, 'Time to show a bit of what I can do.'

As he prepared, Nigel's voice danced through his mind, "Ah, the spotlight beckons, Master Harry. Time to dazzle and shine, or crash and burn — quite the thrilling binary."

Harry, suppressing a smirk, replied silently, "I'll aim for the former, thanks." He gripped his broom, feeling the familiar rush of adrenaline as he focused on the task ahead.

Madam Hooch blew her whistle, and the group took to the air with a synchronized kick-off. The students around them watched, some with envy, others with admiration. Harry controlled his broom with ease, his movements fluid and precise. Daphne followed suit, her own skills evident as she executed a series of graceful turns and ascents.

"Look at you, soaring like a majestic — well, I'm not quite sure what majestic thing flutters in a dark dungeon, but I'm sure you get the sentiment," Nigel teased.

Harry, concentrating on his maneuvers, replied mentally, "Less chatter, more support, Nigel."

As they flew, Madam Hooch called out instructions, her voice carrying over the field. "Steady now! Turn, ascend, and descend! Keep your brooms steady!"

The students executed the maneuvers, demonstrating their control and skill. Harry, in particular, stood out with his natural talent. His broom seemed an extension of himself, responding to his slightest command with intuitive precision. Draco watched from below, his eyes narrowed.

Looking around during the flying lesson, Harry spotted his target, someone he had wanted to meet for a long time. An idea formed in his mind, prompting a silent question to Nigel. "Would doing this make me evil, Nigel?" he asked internally.

"Doing what, Master Harry?" Nigel's voice echoed in his mind, curious yet nonchalant.

Harry, using wandless magic, subtly focused on Susan Bones' broom. She was a competent flyer, but her movements lacked the finesse of the others. Suddenly, her broom jerked uncontrollably. "AAH!" Susan exclaimed, her broom veering away from the class.

Madam Hooch, too far to intervene quickly, watched with growing alarm as Susan Bones' broom jerked uncontrollably, sending her tumbling towards the ground. The class, frozen in shock, could only watch in horror. Madam Hooch, her wand ready, shouted for the students to move out of the way, planning to cast a spell to soften Susan's fall. But the students, caught in the grip of terror, failed to react.

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