SOLSTICE

020

Under the bright afternoon sun, students from Gryffindor and Slytherin lined up outside the castle, each holding a broomstick at their side.

"Oh yes. We are going to watch him fly. I can't wait, Lily. Bet he made it to the Quidditch team," James exclaimed with enthusiasm. He then turned to Harry, a desperate plea in his eyes. "Please tell me you play Quidditch," he asked.

"You will find out." 

"Oh, come on," James urged but still didn’t get any reply as Harry kept his gaze at the projection with a mischievous smile. 

Madam Hooch, the flying instructor, approached the rows, her short hair framing hawk-yellow eyes.

"Good afternoon, class," she greeted, and in unison, the students responded, "Good afternoon, Madam Hooch."

"Good afternoon, Amanda, good afternoon," she acknowledged one student, then addressed the entire class. "Welcome to your first flying lesson. Well, what are you waiting for? Everyone step up to the left side of their broomstick. Come on now, hurry up. Stick your right hand over the broom and say, 'Up.'"

James, in his excitement, subconsciously reached for Lily's hand and held onto it tightly. Lily, caught off guard, blushed intensely at the unexpected contact but decided not to pull away.

"Up!" the class chorused. As Harry uttered the word, his broom immediately flew into his hand, leaving him amazed. Hermione observed him, her expression curious.

“Did you see that, Padfoot?”

“I did Prongs, I did.”

Harry grinned at his father and godfather, a warmth bubbling up in his heart.

"Up!" Draco commanded, his broomstick promptly responding as he grinned smugly. Ron and Hermione struggled a bit with their commands, eliciting laughter from Harry.

The Malfoys were proud of their son while Draco appeared as if he'd just bitten into a Lemon Sherbet, desperately praying to every magical entity in the celestial realm. 

Lucien eyed the decrepit broom on the ground. The bristles looked worn, the wood seemed on the verge of splintering, and overall, they exuded an air of neglect.

He scoffed; his disappointment evident at the sight of the worn-out brooms. So much for being the best school, he thought. Hogwarts could certainly do better than this. 

“Seems like nothing changed.”

“Why can’t they spend a little bit from the school fund on the brooms? It’s not like they have to spend from their pocket.” Another jabbed.

"Perhaps the school budget is going into upgrading the enchanted ceiling and not the deathtrap brooms we fly on. Priorities.”