Venomous Tentacula and Broomsticks (Part 1)

They stood on the open field, where rows of old broomsticks were laid out neatly on the grassland.

The Gryffindor students were already waiting there, eager to begin.

A few boys were gathered together, showing off their knowledge of flying.

One boy with auburn hair deliberately raised his voice, as if to ensure the Ravenclaw newcomers standing in the distance could hear him too.

"My dad works at the Ministry of Magic, and he even took me to see the Quidditch World Cup last time! He says I have talent, and he's going to buy me a broom next year so I can join the team!"

But aside from the envious sounds coming from the Gryffindor side, the Ravenclaw side remained in silence, not even sparing him a glance.

Emma was still nervously clutching the hem of her robes, eyeing the broomsticks on the ground. "I hate this. Why do we have to fly so high? I'm even afraid of climbing a ladder."

Sophia patted her on the shoulder. "The broom can sense your fear. Perhaps you could try imagining it as your friend, not your enemy."

Lucretia also gripped Emma's trembling hand. "Don't worry, I'll be right beside you. Remember what I told you before you went to sleep last night? Trust and balance are the keys."

Sirius, James, Lupin, and Peter were crossing the southern grassland, heading toward the greenhouses.

The glass roof of Greenhouse Six shimmered in the sunlight, and many writhing plants were vaguely visible inside.

James looked toward the newcomers on the flying field in the distance, smiling as he pointed to Madam Hooch, who was walking over with a stern expression. "Poor little brats, their flying class is starting."

Sirius said lazily, "Fork, I remember you performed quite well in your first flying class. Madam Hooch said you had a talent for Quidditch."

James puffed out his chest proudly. "That goes without saying. I started riding a toy broom when I was five."

Sirius gave a mischievous smile, waiting for James to take the bait. "That's exactly why it's even funnier, remember? You were so carried away in your first lesson that you fell off your broom and got your trousers caught on the flagpole."

James's face turned red instantly. "That was because someone bumped into me! I was flying perfectly fine!"

Lupin shook his head, smiling. "How do I remember it being because you wanted to show off flying backward with one hand in front of Evans?"

They walked into Greenhouse Six; the air inside was hot and humid, filled with the scent of soil and plants.

Rows of workbenches were lined with potted plants, inside which grew a type of deep purple plant. Their tentacles were constantly writhing, seemingly searching for something to grab.

Professor Sprout clapped her hands. "Everyone, today we will learn how to handle Venomous Tentacula. Please remember, these plants are very dangerous; they will try to entangle anything that gets close. Furthermore, the sap on their tentacles is mildly toxic, so you must wear Dragonhide Gloves. Work in pairs."

James turned to Sirius. "Padfoot, want to be in my group?"

Sirius snapped back to reality; he had just been looking through the greenhouse glass toward the flying field in the distance.

"Hmm? Oh, no. I'm pairing with Moony, you go with Wormtail."

James raised an eyebrow but didn't ask further.

The students began putting on their Dragonhide Gloves and preparing their workbenches.

Sirius and Lupin were working together in a very organized manner.

Lupin carefully used his wand to direct a long stick to restrain the main tentacle of the Venomous Tentacula, while Sirius skillfully clipped the necessary parts.

But the situation on the other side was not looking so good.

"Help, Wormtail, grab it!"

James's voice was laced with panic as a purple tentacle shot out from the flowerpot, lunging toward his wrist like an angry snake.

Peter flailed his scissors in a panic, only causing more tentacles to erupt from the soil as the entire plant began to thrash wildly.

Professor Sprout held up her own scissors and scolded, "Good heavens! Mr. Potter! Mr. Pettigrew! Please remember that these are dangerous plants, not a dueling arena! You must be gentle with them; that is the key to handling a Venomous Tentacula!"

"Er, sorry, Professor."

James scratched his hair, attempting to regain control of the irritable plant under the gloating gazes of several students.

Sirius's attention was not entirely on the Venomous Tentacula.

His gaze drifted from time to time toward the glass wall of the greenhouse. Through the hazy glass, he could see the first-years lined up on the distant flying field.

Although it was too far to make out specific individuals, he couldn't help but search for that familiar figure.

"Up!"

The sound of Madam Hooch's command drifted from afar, followed by a muffled commotion.

The first-years were struggling to make their broomsticks obey their commands.

Lucretia took a deep breath and extended her right hand.

She remembered what Little Barty had said yesterday: the wooden handle of a broomstick was once part of a living tree.

She said softly, "Up."

The broomstick jumped into her hand, trembling docilely in response to her call.

Around her, some classmates succeeded, while others had to repeat the command several times.

Emma's broomstick merely rolled back and forth on the ground, showing 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, "Use more force, Miss Clark! The broomstick can sense your fear."

Emma took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and recalled the way her mother looked when she was throwing a fit at home.

"Up! Now!"

This time, the broom trembled as it lifted a few inches off the ground, then jumped into her hand.

Emma's eyes went wide. "I did it! I used the exact tone Mom uses at home when she's urging Dad to wash the dishes! That tone that brooks no refusal!"

Madam Hooch nodded with 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 blew, the students gave a light kick to the ground, and the brooms began to rise.

The familiar sensation of weightlessness washed over her again, and the broom rose steadily under her guidance.

The test flight practice at the Quidditch Pitch yesterday evening had paid off; she didn't need to grip the broom handle tightly to maintain her balance.

A warm sensation radiated from Little Barty's Dragonhide Gloves.

Her gaze drifted toward the castle.

She wondered what class he and Brother Regulus were in right now.

Were they thinking about her flying class, too?

Emma was beside her, gripping the broom handle so hard her knuckles had turned white.

"Oh god, oh god, Lucretia! H-how high off the ground are we? I don't dare look down!"

Lucretia quickly snapped back to reality to comfort her. "About three feet, roughly the same height as jumping out of bed this morning."

Emma said, trembling, her broom shaking right along with her, "But that's already high enough for me!"

Madam Hooch paced back and forth across the grounds, correcting the students' flying postures from time to time.

"Adams, loosen your grip! Don't be so stiff in the wrists! Martin, straighten your back, you look like a hunchbacked old wizard! Oh, Miss Clark, relax, you're going to snap the broom in half if you squeeze it that hard!"