They stood on the open grounds, where rows of old brooms had already been neatly laid out on the grass.
The Gryffindor students were already waiting impatiently.
Several boys had gathered together, showing off their knowledge of flying.
One brownish-red-haired boy deliberately raised his voice, as though he wanted the Ravenclaw first-years standing some distance away to hear him too.
"My dad works at the Ministry of Magic. He even took me to see the Quidditch World Cup last time! He said I've got talent, and next year he'll buy me a broom so I can join the team!"
But aside from the envious voices coming from Gryffindor, Ravenclaw was completely silent. They did not even spare him an extra glance.
Emma was still nervously clutching the hem of her robe as she examined the brooms on the ground. "I hate this. Why do we have to fly so high? I'm even scared of climbing ladders."
Sophia patted her shoulder. "Brooms can sense your fear. Maybe you can try imagining that it's your friend, not your enemy."
Lucretia also took Emma's trembling hand. "Don't worry, I'll stay right beside you. Remember what I told you before bed last night? Trust and balance are the key."
Sirius, James, Lupin, and Peter were crossing the southern lawn toward the greenhouses.
The glass roof of Greenhouse Six glittered in the sunlight, and many writhing plants could vaguely be seen inside.
James grinned at the first-years in the distant flying grounds and pointed at Madam Hooch, who was approaching with a stern expression. "Poor little things. Flying class is starting."
Sirius said lazily, "Fork, I remember you did pretty well in your first flying class. Madam Hooch said you had a talent for Quidditch."
James puffed out his chest proudly. "Of course. I'd been riding a child's broom since I was five."
Sirius waited for James to take the bait with a mischievous grin. "Which made it even funnier. Remember? You got so carried away in your first class that you fell off your broom and got your trousers caught on the flagpole."
James's face immediately turned red. "That was because someone rammed into me! I was flying perfectly well!"
Lupin smiled and shook his head. "I remember it being because you wanted to show off by flying upside down one-handed in front of Evans?"
They entered Greenhouse Six. The air inside was damp and hot, thick with the smell of soil and plants.
Potted plants sat on rows of worktables. A dark purple plant grew in each one, its tentacles constantly writhing as if searching for something to grab.
Professor Sprout clapped her hands. "Everyone, today we will learn how to handle Venomous Tentacula. Remember, these plants are extremely dangerous. They will try to entangle anything that comes near them. The juice on their tentacles is also mildly poisonous, so you must wear Dragonhide Gloves. Work in groups of two."
James turned to Sirius. "Padfoot, want to pair up with me?"
Sirius came back to himself. He had just been looking through the greenhouse glass at the distant flying grounds.
"Hm? Oh, no. I'm with Moony. You can work with Wormtail."
James raised his eyebrows but did not ask any further questions.
The students began putting on their Dragonhide Gloves and preparing their worktables.
Sirius and Lupin's group worked together in an orderly fashion.
Lupin carefully used his wand to direct a long stick to restrain the Venomous Tentacula's main tendril, while Sirius skillfully snipped off the required parts.
But things were not going so well on the other side.
"Help, Wormtail, grab it!"
James's voice was full of panic as a purple tentacle suddenly sprang from the pot and lunged at his wrist like an enraged snake.
Peter frantically waved his shears around, but only caused more tentacles to burrow out of the soil. The entire plant began thrashing wildly.
Professor Sprout held up her shears and scolded them. "Heavens! Mr. Potter! Pettigrew! Remember that these are dangerous plants, not a dueling ground! Handle them gently—that is the key to dealing with Venomous Tentacula!"
"Er, sorry, Professor."
James scratched his hair and tried to regain control of the irritable plant amid the gloating looks of quite a few students.
Sirius was not entirely focused on the Venomous Tentacula.
His gaze drifted toward the greenhouse's glass wall from time to time. Through the blurred glass, he could see the first-years lined up in the distant flying grounds.
Though they were too far away for him to make out anyone clearly, he could not help searching for that familiar figure.
"Up!"
Madam Hooch's command rang out in the distance, followed by a muffled burst of movement.
The first-years were trying hard to make their brooms obey their commands.
Lucretia took a deep breath and held out her right hand.
She remembered what Little Barty had said yesterday: the broom's wooden handle had once been part of a living tree.
She said softly, "Up."
The broom jumped into her hand, trembling docilely in response to her summons.
Around her, some students succeeded, while others had to repeat the command several times.
Emma's broom merely rolled back and forth on the ground, with no intention of rising at all.
"Hey! Look, it's completely ignoring me!"
Sophia guided her with her free left hand. "Your voice is too hesitant."
Madam Hooch walked over as well. "Put some force into it, Miss Clark! The broom can sense your fear."
Emma took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and recalled the way her mother flew into a rage at home.
"Up!"
This time, the broom trembled a few inches off the ground before jumping into her hand.
Emma's eyes widened. "I did it! I was completely copying the tone my mum uses when she tells my dad to wash the dishes at home! That absolutely-not-taking-no-for-an-answer tone!"
Madam Hooch nodded in satisfaction. "Very good. Now everyone, mount your brooms. No one is to leave the ground until I blow my whistle. Three, two, one!"
Her whistle sounded, and the students lightly pushed off the ground as their brooms began to rise.
That familiar feeling of weightlessness washed over her again as the broom rose steadily under her guidance.
The test flight practice at the Quidditch Pitch yesterday evening had paid off. She could keep her balance without gripping the broom handle tightly.
Little Barty's Dragonhide Gloves gave off a warm touch.
Her gaze drifted toward the castle.
What class were he and Brother Regulus taking now?
Were they thinking about her flying class too?
Emma was beside her, gripping the broom handle so tightly with both hands that her knuckles had turned white.
"Oh God, God, Lucretia! H-how high are we off the ground? I don't dare look down!"
Lucretia hurriedly came back to herself and comforted her. "About three feet. It's roughly the same height as jumping down from bed in the morning."
Emma said tremulously, and her broom began trembling along with her, "But that's already high enough for me!"
Madam Hooch paced back and forth across the grounds, occasionally correcting the students' flying posture.
"Adams, loosen your grip! Don't keep your wrists so stiff! Martin, straighten your back—you look like a hunched old wizard right now! Oh, Miss Clark, relax! At this rate, you're going to strangle that broom in half!"
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