The Art of Deception

Chapter 9

That afternoon, outside the castle, the students were lined up in two neat rows, each clutching a broomstick. The crisp air seemed to bite at their faces, the anticipation of the first flying lesson making the cold bearable. Madam Hooch, with her short hair and sharp hawk-yellow eyes, walked down the line with purpose. Her presence alone seemed to command attention.

"Good afternoon, class," Madam Hooch's voice rang out, clear and firm.

"Good afternoon, Madam Hooch," the students answered, their voices a blend of nerves and excitement.

"Good afternoon," she echoed, her gaze moving over each of them with an intensity that made even the bravest shift uncomfortably. "Welcome to your first flying lesson. Well, what are you waiting for? Everyone step up to the left side of your broomstick. Come on now, hurry up. Stick your right hand over the broom and say, 'Up.'"

Aurelia was already focused, her posture relaxed yet determined. "Up," she said, her voice calm. As if obeying her command, the broom rose smoothly into her hand, hovering steadily. She looked over at Harry, a subtle smirk tugging at her lips, as if silently saying, See? This is how it's done.

Ron, on the other hand, was struggling. "Up!!" he yelled with all the force he could muster. His broom shot up instantly, jerking out of his control and hitting him square on the nose. "Oof!" Ron grunted, stumbling back.

Aurelia and Harry couldn't help but burst out laughing. "Shut up!" Ron muttered, rubbing his nose, but then, much to their surprise, he started laughing too, shaking his head. "That was brilliant."

Madam Hooch continued, unfazed by the antics. "Now, once you've got hold of your broom, mount it. Grip it tight. You don't want to be sliding off the end."

The class followed her instructions, mounting their broomsticks with varying levels of grace. When Madam Hooch blew her whistle, everyone kicked off the ground, attempting to hover.

Aurelia did so with ease, her broom staying perfectly steady beneath her. She glanced over at Harry, giving him an encouraging nod. However, Neville's broom had other ideas.

Without warning, Neville's broom jerked upward with alarming speed. His eyes widened in panic. "Mr. Longbottom!" Madam Hooch called out, but Neville's broom wasn't stopping. He soared into the air, his arms flailing as he screamed, the fear in his eyes clear.

Aurelia's arms crossed in frustration, a wry smile pulling at her lips. "Maybe instead of shouting, you should mount a broom and fly after him, Professor," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. Some of the Slytherins stifled laughter, but Madam Hooch simply stared at her, momentarily stunned.

Meanwhile, Neville's flight grew even more erratic. He collided with a wall, his body slamming against it with a sickening thud before the broom jerked away again, dragging him across the grounds. Aurelia's eyes widened in concern, her stance tightening with unease.

Neville zoomed past a statue, his cloak getting caught on one of its sharp spears. He was flipped off the broom and dangled there for a moment, helplessly swinging. Aurelia's heart raced. Why doesn't someone do something? she thought. But Madam Hooch wasn't quick enough.

Just as Neville's cloak ripped through the spear, he plummeted to the ground with a loud thud. His cloak got caught on a torch, but it only delayed his fall for a second before he slipped off and hit the ground with a painful crash. "Ow!" Neville groaned, clearly in pain.

"Everyone out of the way!" Madam Hooch barked, rushing through the group, the students scattering to make room for her as she knelt by Neville. "Come on, get up," she urged, but her voice lacked the usual confidence.