(27) First Flying Lesson

Amid the bickering among Draco and the others, Ian escorted the group over to the Gryffindor table.

Only then did Draco stop arguing with Harry, noticing the way the other Gryffindors were looking at them. He instinctively swallowed nervously. "I-Ian..."

"We've brought them here, now let's go back to Slytherin," Cassandra said, clearly uneasy under the watchful gazes of the Gryffindor students. She quickly tugged on Ian's sleeve.

"Of course." Ian had no intention of staying to eat at the Gryffindor table.

He turned to Harry, Hermione, and Ron, smiling as he said, "We're heading back. See you later, Hermione, Harry, Ron."

"Alright, Ian, see you later," the trio quickly waved and bid him farewell.

Ian nodded and led Draco and Cassandra back to the Slytherin table.

"Phew, that was close. I thought Ian was really going to make us eat at the Gryffindor table," Draco said, clutching his chest with a look of lingering fear.

"Even though we get along fine with those three, I'd never eat at their table!"

"Agreed," Cassandra nodded. "Besides, Gryffindor is way too noisy. Slytherin is much quieter."

Listening to the racket coming from the direction of the Gryffindor table and glancing at his own housemates quietly eating nearby, Ian nodded in full agreement.

"Good thing you three didn't lose your heads and actually sit at the Gryffindor table," Blaise said from across the table, looking relieved.

"If you had really sat there..."

"Then what?"

"Professor Snape definitely wouldn't have let you off easily," Blaise continued with a grin. "He'd probably turn you three into Slytherin statues and place them at the entrance of the Great Hall."

Thinking about this scenario, Blaise couldn't help but shiver.

Ian was also taken aback by Blaise's imagination. He looked at him in disbelief, his mouth twitching slightly. "Trust me, Blaise, Professor Snape would never do something as… childish as turning someone into a statue and putting it in the Great Hall."

"No, he would," Cassandra said faintly.

"Huh?" Ian turned to Cassandra, his mouth slightly open, looking shocked.

"Actually, a few years ago, there was a Slytherin half-blood wizard who started dating a Gryffindor witch and sat at their table to eat," Theodore explained, gesturing toward the brown-haired boy sitting quietly at the far end of the Slytherin table.

"The next day, Professor Snape found a few minor mistakes to penalize him and turned him into a statue. He placed it right across from the Gryffindor table for an entire morning."

Ian followed Cassandra and Theodore's gaze and spotted the brown-haired boy, who was eating quietly and looked rather delicate.

"That's brutal," Ian gulped. "Didn't Professor Dumbledore do anything about it? Didn't he stop this kind of behavior?"

"Professor Dumbledore was away in America for a conference and wasn't at the school," Cassandra said with a shrug. "By the time he got back and heard about it, it was too late. The punishment was already done."

"And what happened after that?" Ian asked, intrigued. "What about that senior? And the relationship with the Gryffindor witch?"

"The relationship naturally fell apart," Theodore replied with a shrug. "After all, no little witch would want her boyfriend turned into a statue and put on display for everyone to see."

"As for the senior..." Theodore pointed at the brown-haired boy. "Look at him now. He doesn't even dare lift his head while eating, afraid someone might recognize him. And he certainly hasn't dared to date another young witch since."

Ian turned his head and saw that the brown-haired boy had once again lowered his head, as if he wished he could bury his entire face into his plate.

Tragic.

It was just too tragic.

So tragic that Ian couldn't bear to look.

In his heart, Ian silently lit a candle for the unfortunate senior.

"So, Ian, never sit at the Gryffindor table," Cassandra said seriously, looking directly at Ian. "I don't want to see you turned into a statue at the entrance of the Great Hall one day."

"Don't worry, I'll never sit at the Gryffindor table," Ian said quickly, shaking his head with 'firm resolve'. "I will absolutely defend my Slytherin identity to the very end!"

Once I'm strong enough to beat Snape, then I'll consider eating at the Gryffindor table, Ian added silently in his mind.

...

After lunch, Ian and his friends rested briefly before heading to the field for their flying lesson.

"Good afternoon, children!"

Madam Hooch greeted them, standing in the center of the pitch. Beside each young witch and wizard was a row of brand-new brooms.

"It seems you've all been looking forward to this."

"Now, there's a broom beside each of you. Place your hand over it and say, 'Up!' The broom will rise to your hand. Remember, you must say it with feeling."

The little wizards and witches all nodded eagerly and began trying at once.

"Up!"

"Up!"

"Get up already!"

Ian tried calling for his broom as well, but the broom next to him only wobbled slightly and didn't fly into his hand.

He turned to look at Harry and Draco.

Both of their brooms were already in their hands.

"..."

Could it really be that kids who resemble someone also inherit their talents? He looked like his mother, Lily, and was good at Potions like her. Meanwhile, Harry resembled James, and all of James's Quidditch talent seemed to have been passed down to Harry.

Ian glanced at Harry, then turned back to his broom on the ground.

With a heartfelt tone, he said, "Up."

This time, the broom wobbled unsteadily and managed to lift slightly off the ground, only to come crashing back down before reaching Ian's hand.

Ian quickly jumped to the side, narrowly avoiding the broom as it nearly hit his foot.

Alright, so it seemed he really hadn't inherited James's Quidditch talent.

"Ian, you and flying brooms don't seem to get along," Draco said, laughing gleefully at Ian's struggles. "Why don't you try calling its name loudly, like calling a pet? Maybe that'll get it up!"

"Draco, in a moment, this fist as big as a sandbag is going to land on your face," Ian said, shaking his fist and glaring at Draco. "I think your broom might not survive it."

Draco quickly clamped his hand over his mouth, but the schadenfreude in his eyes was impossible to hide.

Ian took a deep breath and thought to himself, System! Convert all my remaining charm points into Quidditch talent!

[Ding! Remaining Charisma: 66, all points have been added to the host's Quidditch talent! ]

As soon as the voice fell, Ian suddenly felt that his body seemed to have become much lighter, and even the flying broom in front of him became much more familiar.

"Get up." Ian said softly.

This time, the broom seemed to come alive and flew straight into Ian's hands.