Hermione's New Trick + Flying Class

Chapter 28 Hermione's New Trick + Flying Class

Time slipped to Thursday without notice.

Hermione was no longer panicked, but the other young witches and wizards were still full of anxiety.

Neville especially.

His knuckles were white as he gripped his fork, and his round little face trembled uncontrollably.

As if a broomstick were some ferocious beast, even more terrifying than Snape.

In his fluster, Neville grasped at straws and asked Hermione for flying knowledge.

Hermione was equally tireless in her teaching.

She combined the flying instructions from Quidditch Through the Ages with the tips the twins had told her.

She rambled on endlessly, cramming what she called "knowledge points" into Neville's head.

In truth, it all boiled down to just two words—"balance."

When Hermione mentioned the technical term "horizontal tilt angle" for the third time, Brook couldn't take it anymore.

"Neville, instead of studying all these complicated theories, you'd be better off trusting Snape and Madam Pomfrey."

Neville looked at him with a face full of question marks, adorably clueless.

"As long as you don't die, they should be able to patch you up."

Neville was on the verge of tears.

"Brook!"

Hermione's little hand found the soft flesh on Brook's waist.

With instinctive precision, she twisted it hard, as if she'd practiced a thousand times.

"Hiss!" Brook sucked in a sharp breath.

He stared at Hermione in shock, as if seeing her for the first time.

When had this little girl learned that trick?

And so steady, accurate, and ruthless.

Was this some innate skill all girls had?

Hermione, however, casually twirled a strand of hair with her other hand, as if her earlier action had been an illusion.

She comforted Neville, "Don't listen to Brook's nonsense. As long as you don't fly too high, even if you accidentally break an arm or leg, it'll be healed quickly... Oh, I didn't mean it like that. You'll be fine, don't worry."

Then she bared her teeth and shot Brook a vicious glare, twisting the soft flesh on his waist again.

"This is all your fault, Brook."

Brook was utterly speechless.

But Neville didn't stay upset for long, because an owl delivered him a "Remembrall."

Neville picked up the Remembrall. "If you hold it tight and it turns red..."

His face crumpled into a bitter gourd. "...it means I've forgotten something."

"Neville, I think you forgot your bag," Brook reminded him.

"Ah!" Neville shrieked and leaped up.

He spun around and collided head-on with Draco Malfoy, who had somehow appeared at the Gryffindor table.

Without even glancing at who he'd bumped into, Neville muttered a quick "Sorry" and dashed frantically toward the tower.

Draco sat on the floor, utterly bewildered.

It wasn't until Crabbe and Goyle pulled him up that he snapped out of it, his face still blank.

At three-thirty in the afternoon, the sun was bright and a gentle breeze blew—a perfect day for flying.

The little lions and little snakes gathered on a flat stretch of lawn.

Brook looked at the twenty-one broomsticks laid out neatly in a row before him.

They were indeed the antiques the twins had mentioned.

The mold stains seeping through the wood grain reminded him of the sign at the secondhand shop in Diagon Alley.

Madam Hooch, who taught Flying Class and also served as the referee for Hogwarts Quidditch matches, stood at the front of the group, her stern gaze sweeping over everyone.

"What are you waiting for? Stand beside your broomsticks."

Brook picked a broom that looked halfway decent and stood next to it.

"Extend your right hand and say, 'Up!'" Madam Hooch commanded.

While the other young witches and wizards shouted "Up!" at the top of their lungs, Brook, for some inexplicable reason, blurted out, "Sword, come."

His broom, however, seemed not to hear—or simply couldn't understand.

It didn't budge.

Most of the young wizards were in the same boat.

Only a few had successfully summoned their brooms.

Hermione was one of them.

She lifted her chin, her eyes crinkling with a smile, and looked at Brook with smug satisfaction.

Her gaze seemed to say, "See? Still think my theory's useless?"

Brook jutted his chin toward Neville.

Neville's broom was equally motionless.

The message was clear.

Your student's not cutting it!

Hermione extended her small hand and made a twisting motion.

Brook couldn't be bothered to argue with a little girl, so he turned his head away.

Seeing this, Hermione grew even more smug.

That trick Cho Chang taught really worked.

Though Cho's expression back then had been a bit odd—kind of like her aunt's.

"Keep playing dead, and I'll send you to the kitchen for firewood," Brook threatened outright.

A broom dared to disrespect him?

Was it asking for trouble?

The broom leaped into Brook's hand with a whoosh.

"Smart move."

Beside him, Neville was stunned speechless.

Utterly awestruck.

His voice trembling slightly, he threatened his own broom, "Get... get up, or I'll chop... chop you up for firewood."

The broom just rolled on the ground, dripping with mockery.

His round face crumpled into a picture of dejection.

Maybe Madam Hooch was really in a hurry.

She didn't wait for everyone to successfully summon their brooms before moving to the next step.

Brook and Hermione had been "trained" by the twins before.

Their stances were perfectly standard.

"When I blow my whistle, you push off the ground and fly about a meter or two high."

"Three, two..." Madam Hooch put the whistle to her lips. "Child, come back."

Neville, either too nervous or afraid of being the only one left on the ground, launched straight up into the air before the whistle even sounded.

Brook gave Neville a thumbs-up.

He dared to pull that stunt because he had a life-saving skill like the Space Gate.

But he never expected Neville to be so bold—truly a Gryffindor.

Soon, though, everyone realized something was wrong.

Neville was climbing higher while starting to slide off his broom.

Brook did like to keep his abilities hidden, or rather, he habitually held back.

Maybe it was because, as a Daxia native, modesty and restraint ran in his blood.

But when it came to saving someone, he never hesitated.

A spell was out of the question.

Neville was moving too fast to aim properly.

If only he had a hundred wands—even without aiming, a full spread would hit something.

That was the beauty of overwhelming firepower.

Too bad he didn't have a hundred wands right now.

Brook pulled out his wand and waved it around for show.

The moment Neville let go, Brook formed two Space Gates—one right beside himself and one directly beneath Neville.

Neville fell into the gate below and rolled out from the gate next to Brook.

After landing, Neville was pale, his face full of terror. He didn't dare open his eyes, and his body kept trembling.

As for why he hadn't used it with Hermione back then?

Brook figured he'd been too dazed from her collision to remember.

The young witches and wizards around were stunned by the harrowing scene.

Some covered their mouths, eyes wide;

others whispered among themselves, faces full of worry;

a few even stepped back in fright.

"Quiet!"

Madam Hooch's sharp shout sent the Bowtruckles in the treetops scurrying into their holes all at once.

She hurried over to Neville and carefully examined his condition.

Aside from some dirt on him, he seemed uninjured.

But to be safe, she decided to take him to the hospital wing.

"Alright, child, you're fine." She helped Neville up.

"I'm taking him to the hospital wing. No one is to touch their brooms! Or you'll be waiting to get kicked out of Hogwarts."

Then she turned to Brook. "Thank you, child."

"Madam Hooch, it was my duty."

"You're a good kid. Ten points for Gryffindor."

Neville's lips twitched, as if he wanted to thank Brook.

But he still hadn't recovered from the shock and couldn't make a sound, so he just looked at Brook with grateful eyes.

Brook said nothing, giving Neville an encouraging smile.

As soon as Madam Hooch left with Neville, the young witches and wizards burst into life like huskies off their leashes.

The little lions and little snakes had never gotten along, and they immediately launched into a fierce verbal brawl.

It had that classic "What are you looking at? Looking at you, got a problem?" vibe.

Brook simply pulled Hermione down to sit and handed her a handful of Veritas Seeds.

He cracked them open himself, watching the "spat" with keen interest.

Veritas Seeds were one of the ingredients used to make Veritaserum.

Only the stems were used; the seeds were usually thrown away.

Brook noticed they looked a lot like sunflower seeds, so he'd asked Professor Sprout for them.

These were three times bigger than regular sunflower seeds.

After roasting, they had a faint milky scent, left a fragrant taste in the mouth, and carried an unknown aroma.

The only downside was that you couldn't eat too many, or you'd end up telling the truth.

"Hey!"

Draco ran onto the grass like a golden retriever and grabbed something.

"Isn't this that big idiot's Remembrall?"

"Give it here, Malfoy." Harry shouted loudly.

In an instant, everyone's attention was on the two of them.

They all wore expressions ready to watch the drama unfold.

Only the sound of Brook cracking seeds broke the silence.

Draco's face twisted slightly. "Potter, what do you think about me putting it up in a tree?"

"You—"

Draco ignored Harry completely and acted, jumping onto his broom and soaring into the air.

Facing Draco's provocation, Harry naturally didn't back down.

He hopped onto his broom without hesitation and chased after him.

Hermione was about to speak when Brook popped a seed kernel into her mouth.

"Brook, why did you stop me? Harry's going to get expelled." Hermione sounded anxious.

"Just relax and enjoy the show." Brook fed her another kernel.

Hermione glared at him angrily, her cheeks puffed out like a cute little hamster.

Then her wicked little hand reached for Brook's waist again.

Brook quickly said, "Did you forget Harry's reputation?"

Hermione's fingers rested on Brook's waist, unmoving, but her face showed confusion.

"Harry's savior title isn't just for show. Even if they expelled you and me, they wouldn't expel Harry."

Though Hermione didn't quite understand, she trusted Brook's judgment.

So she huffily chewed the melon seed kernel in her mouth, but her hand instinctively twisted a circle.

"Hiss!"

This little girl was asking for trouble!

Did she really think Brook couldn't lift his wand anymore?

By now, everyone's attention had been drawn to the "love-hate" drama playing out in the air.

Draco kept moving his mouth in provocation, while Harry directly resorted to action.

He fully embodied the little lion's "recklessness."

Seeing the tide turn against him, Draco dropped the Remembrall and made a tactical retreat.

Harry executed a cool vertical dive, chasing straight after the falling Remembrall.

Listening to Hermione's commentary, Brook's fists unconsciously clenched.

"Ah! Slow down! Oh my god! No! Ah! Faster! Ah! Even faster! Ah! No!"

In the end, Hermione even covered her eyes with her hands, leaving only a sliver of gap between her fingers to peek through.

Harry had just raised the Remembrall in his hand, not yet having a chance to properly "show off,"

when Professor McGonagall arrived and grabbed him like a little chick, carrying him away.

Brook brushed the melon seed shell crumbs from his hands.

He stretched lazily, then lay back comfortably on the soft grass.

"Won't Harry lose points?" Hermione asked, her face full of worry.

"Probably not." Brook closed his eyes in comfort, feeling the gentle breeze brush his face. "Remember what I said?"

"What?"

"If Professor McGonagall was going to deduct points, she'd do it on the spot. Since she chose to take Harry away, there's probably another plan." Brook explained.

Hermione relaxed.

As long as there were no point deductions.

Being a girl, she naturally wouldn't lie down like Brook.

But she propped herself up with her hands, making herself more comfortable sitting.

"What was that spell you just used?"

"A spatial portal. It suddenly appeared in my mind... kind of like bloodline inheritance. I can't teach you."

Hermione didn't ask further, instead joining Brook in enjoying the tranquility brought by the breeze.