Chapter 13: The Flying Lesson Incident

Recently, the usually somber students of Slytherin House had been glowing with pride and joy. Apart from Augustus' stellar performances in every class, which had significantly boosted Slytherin's house points, the students had also discovered a hidden treasure—a mobile library within the Slytherin common room.

It all began when a first-year student nervously approached Augustus in the common room, asking for help with a challenging essay assignment. To their surprise, Augustus patiently and thoroughly explained the topic. Word quickly spread, and soon, many first-years began seeking his advice on various subjects. Remarkably, Augustus always provided perfect answers, even to the most obscure questions, earning high praise from the teachers. When upper-year students also began consulting him and receiving satisfying answers, the nickname "Augustus' Mobile Library" became a badge of honor among Slytherins.

On a lush, green lawn near Hogwarts Castle, Augustus sat reading Advanced Theories of Dark Magic, a book he had just borrowed from the library. Such books required the head of house's signature, so Augustus had made a special trip to Professor Snape's office to secure approval. Contrary to the magical community's general disdain for dark magic, Augustus viewed it merely as a set of powerful, destructive spells. To him, labeling magic as inherently "good" or "evil" was senseless. Magic was a tool, shaped by the intent of the wizard. Imposing morality on it was, in his eyes, a foolish endeavor.

Most spells in this low-magic world were for everyday convenience or entertainment. Even so-called combat spells were often harmless, like turning teeth into oversized fangs. Augustus believed that prolonged peace had stunted magical progress. In other worlds, magic thrived as a weapon of war, with even a single Archmage capable of altering the course of a battle. Legendary wizards were seen as national assets, their power deciding the fate of entire wars.

It was Thursday, and a flying lesson was scheduled for 3 PM. At 2:30, Augustus closed his book and headed toward the flying lesson field. Despite humanity's long-standing fascination with flight, Augustus, who could fly under his own magical power, found little interest in riding a broomstick.

The day was sunny and breezy. As Augustus descended the sloping lawn toward the flat field, the grass rippled under his feet. Beyond the field lay the forest, where dark trees swayed in the wind.

Most Slytherin and Gryffindor students had already gathered. When Augustus arrived, many Slytherin students beamed with anticipation. Slytherin and Gryffindor were traditional Quidditch rivals, and even in a simple flying lesson, Slytherins hoped Augustus would outshine the Gryffindors. Twenty broomsticks lay neatly arranged on the ground. Soon, Madam Hooch arrived, her short gray hair and hawk-like yellow eyes giving her an air of authority.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" she barked. "Everyone stand beside a broomstick! Quickly now, don't waste time!"

The broom next to Augustus was old and shabby, with a dirty, deep-yellow handle. Known for his cleanliness, Augustus frowned slightly.

"Extend your right hand over the broom," Madam Hooch instructed, "and say, 'Up!'"

"Up!" the students chorused.

Augustus's broom immediately leapt into his hand, though he hadn't followed Madam Hooch's method. Instead, he used a simple levitation spell to summon it, finding it more elegant.

Madam Hooch then demonstrated how to mount a broomstick without sliding off. She walked through the line, correcting students' grips. Harry and Ron couldn't help but snicker when she criticized Malfoy's technique.

"When I blow my whistle," she said, "kick off the ground hard. Hold your broom steady, rise a few feet, lean forward slightly, and land vertically. On my whistle—three, two—"

Before she could blow, Neville panicked. Terrified of being left behind, he kicked off too soon, soaring upward like a cork from a bottle.

"Come back, boy!" Madam Hooch shouted. But Neville continued to rise—12 feet, 20 feet—his terrified, pale face looking down at the shrinking ground.

With a slight smile, Augustus observed Neville's predictable mishap. Drawing his silver wand, he pointed it at the broom, halting its wild ascent. Another flick directed at Neville gently detached him from the broom and guided him safely to the ground using a levitation spell. The class collectively sighed in relief. Madam Hooch, impressed by Augustus's quick thinking, awarded Slytherin ten points. Grateful for avoiding a major incident on her first lesson, she escorted Neville to the hospital wing for a check-up.

As they disappeared, Malfoy burst into laughter.

"Did you see his face? What a blubbering fool!"

The other Slytherins joined in, Malfoy's standing among the first-years giving him some influence.

"Shut up, Malfoy," Parvati Patil snapped.

"Protecting Longbottom, are we?" Pansy Parkinson sneered. "Didn't know you liked fat crybabies, Patil."

"Look!" Malfoy exclaimed, grabbing something from the grass. "It's that oaf Longbottom's Remembrall!"

"Give it back, Malfoy," Harry demanded, his voice low. Everyone fell silent, watching intently.

Glancing at Augustus, who remained neutral, Malfoy's confidence grew.

"Come and get it, Potter!" he taunted, leaping onto his broom and soaring into the air.

Harry grabbed his broom.

"No!" Hermione Granger protested. "Madam Hooch told us not to move—you'll get us all in trouble!"

"Let him be," Augustus said, gesturing calmly to Hermione.

Encouraged, Harry smiled gratefully and mounted his broom. Kicking off, he shot into the sky, wind whipping through his hair. Below, the students gasped and cheered.

Malfoy hovered near a tree, smirking. "Come on, Potter, catch it if you can!"

Harry leaned forward, his broom hurtling toward Malfoy like a javelin. Malfoy barely dodged. Laughing nervously, he tossed the Remembrall high into the air.

With remarkable skill, Harry caught it just before it hit the ground. Augustus had prepared to intervene several times but ultimately let the boy handle it. Watching Professor McGonagall escort a triumphant Harry away, Augustus smiled, nostalgic for his own youthful escapades. The fiery spirit of youth and the thrill of adventure—what a time to remember.

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