Rebirth of Lady Morgana

Flying Class and a New Queen Rises

Friday morning, the Great Hall buzzed with energy and anticipation. Morgana and Anthony sat with their friends at the Slytherin table, enjoying the last bites of their breakfast. The atmosphere was filled with the usual chatter, but there was a notable sense of excitement for the afternoon's flying class.

"So, you think I'll beat you to the Golden Snitch?" Anthony teased, nudging Morgana with his elbow.

Morgana smirked. "You wish, Anthony. Just because you're a Gryffindor doesn't mean you'll have an edge in flying."

Draco, seated across from them, rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "It's not about houses; it's about skill. And we've got plenty of that."

Blaise, Theo, Daphne, Pansy, and Millicent all nodded in agreement, their eyes sparkling with enthusiasm.

"Personally, I can't wait to see everyone's faces when we pull off that maneuver we've been practicing," Daphne said, a hint of mischief in her voice.

As they finished their meal, the conversation turned to their pranks. The success of their recent antics had solidified their reputation, and even the professors seemed to take the chaos in stride.

"Did you see Professor Flitwick trying to reverse the staircases yesterday?" Blaise asked, laughing. "He ended up in the Owlery!"

"And Professor Trelawney kept predicting her own downfall every time she passed a moving suit of armor," Pansy added, giggling.

Morgana and Anthony exchanged a satisfied glance. Their teamwork with Peeves had brought a new level of excitement to Hogwarts, and they were eager to keep the momentum going.

After breakfast, the group headed to their morning classes, but their thoughts were already on the afternoon's flying lesson. The anticipation built as they navigated the corridors, the thrill of the pranks adding an extra layer of excitement to their day.

---

Finally, it was time for flying class. The students gathered on the grassy field, brooms lined up neatly in rows. James Potter, with his tall, athletic frame and ever-present mischievous grin, strode up and down the line, inspecting the students and their brooms. His eyes, the same hazel as his son's, sparkled with excitement.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" he said excitedly. "Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up."

Morgana, Anthony, and their friends quickly found their places. The tension was palpable as James instructed them to hold out their right hand over the broom and command, "Up!"

"UP!" everyone shouted.

Morgana's broom jumped into her hand immediately, while Anthony's hovered momentarily before he caught it. Around them, there were varying degrees of success and failure, with a few brooms stubbornly refusing to budge.

"Alright, now when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard," James continued, his tone serious but encouraging. "Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. Ready? Three-two-"

But Neville, unfortunately, pushed off the ground a second too early. His broom shot up into the air. Morgana and Anthony knew that Neville had never been confident on a broom, and they had to watch as he clung to it for dear life.

"Come down, Neville!" James shouted, but Neville was already fifty feet up and rising.

Morgana and Anthony exchanged worried glances, their excitement replaced by concern for their godbrother. The entire class watched in horror as Neville slipped, losing his grip, and plummeted to the ground with a thud. James rushed over to him, checking for injuries.