Do Feet Off the Ground Make You Smarter?

"If yesterday were tomorrow, then today would be Friday. So what day is today?"

The knocker was practically giving away points today.

After easily returning to the common room, the first-years noticed something was wrong—a new notice had been posted on the bulletin board, informing every first-year in impeccable grammar that they would have a flying lesson with the Hufflepuff students on Thursday morning this week.

"Ah, flying..."

Kevin let out a sigh.

The others were no different. Only Bell seemed relatively energized. "It's finally starting."

He was the only one who had ridden a child's broom before, and he was also the most interested in Quidditch in their dormitory.

"Don't be like that. It's not hard. Though I've never touched a real broom either—I wanted to try when I was nine, but..."

Bell shook his head hard, a trace of panic showing in his eyes.

"I don't think so... I can't help being afraid of things where you can't gain experience from books."

"Same... Why hasn't anyone written a book on how to use a flying broom?"

"Probably because it's simple," Andrew said, leaning against the wall. Though he was a little nervous too, he was still deceiving himself. "If the rules for flying took three or four months to study for, and you had to follow all kinds of regulations, then someone would definitely publish a book like that."

"That makes sense... There are even dedicated books on Quidditch fouls, but flying is hardly mentioned at all..."

"Daydreaming won't help. We should think about how to deal with the next class instead... It's Potions class again."

That immediately pulled everyone out of their groaning and sighing. Flying class was certainly worth worrying about, but it was still a future matter. Potions class... that was a danger truly close at hand!

Flying class probably had the greatest impact on Ravenclaw—after that, there were hardly any first-years Andrew met who were not groaning about it.

Ravenclaws were good at using experience to deal with the unknown, but with flying, you either could do it or you couldn't. No matter how skilled a describer someone was, they could not put that feeling into words.

There was also a fatal problem: because of the bad habits of certain Ravenclaw students, no one could be sure what others meant when they said, "I can't do it either." Did it mean no one could do it? Or did they claim they couldn't, only to suddenly show off elegant flying skills later?

Especially after Dumbledore, A Legend began serialization, the atmosphere became even worse—everyone had originally kept to themselves, and now they had to follow the trend and hide their talents too?

But no matter what the students thought, time was incomparably fair. Amid everyone's unease, Thursday arrived.

"I just have a bad feeling about this... Why are we going first?"

Hal said at the breakfast table, his expression somewhat grave. As for Andrew, he was in a good state of mind as he listened to his dormmates complain—he had already prepared a thorough plan to prevent serious injury.

"All right, stop complaining. Once you get on a broom, you'll know the charm of flying."

Bell was so excited that he was bursting with energy. He could not even focus on eating breakfast.

Before long, amid the students' anxiety, it was officially time for flying class.

"Don't fly too high—as long as you don't die on the spot, Madam Pomfrey can save you..."

Andrew quietly reassured himself. He had even lost his sense of direction, following the group in a daze until they reached the lawn.

At that moment, the brooms and their flying instructor were already waiting.

"All right, what are you all waiting for?" Madam Hooch, their flying professor, said sharply. "Everyone stand beside a flying broom. Quickly, quickly, hurry up."

Andrew took a deep breath, then lined up beside a broom with the others—it did not look to be in very good condition, as though it had not been properly maintained.

"Be firm. Put your hand on the broom—your right hand!

"Then follow me. When I call ready, shout 'Up!' together on three!

"Ready, one, two, three—Up!"

"Up!"

The broom rose into his hand even more smoothly than he had imagined. He looked around and found that quite a few others had succeeded as well.

So what triggers the command? Emotion? Trust?

Andrew could not make a definite judgment—Ravenclaw students believed in experience, while Hufflepuff students were not good at doubting their teachers. That made it impossible for him to narrow down the possibilities.

Besides, flying brooms were not the same type of object as other wizarding items—he shook his head and temporarily set aside the habit of thought he had developed recently from constantly summarizing and categorizing things.

After Madam Hooch repeated the command and led them in shouting it twice more, nearly everyone had called their broom up.

Next came explanations of how to hold the broom at the proper angle, followed by individual corrections—and Andrew was criticized, a rare occurrence.

"You're holding a broom, not a stick that will fall if you don't grip it tight!

"Relax, relax! You're relying on it to carry you into the sky, not trying to strangle it!

"Watch the angle, the angle! It's a flying broom, not some animal!"

After a string of criticism, Madam Hooch finally expressed approval of their grip. "All right, listen carefully. When I blow the whistle, push off the ground with both feet at the same time, but don't use too much force. You may only rise a few feet at most, then lean forward and let the broom carry you in a gentle forward tilt before returning to the ground—did you hear me?"

"We heard!"

"Very good." Madam Hooch was pleased with their response. "Ready, three—two—one!"

The clear whistle sounded, and Andrew applied just a little force—a gentle power carried him directly upward. He did not rise very high before stopping.

Curious, he felt around his seat and found that it really was as Bell had said, like sitting on a soft cushion.

"Then, pull up..."

He adjusted the broom slightly and found it was not much more complicated than riding a bicycle—pull up, lower, pull up again...

Simple.

Sure enough, there's no need to write a book about it.

"Mr. Taylor!"

Madam Hooch's voice rang out. "Five points from Ravenclaw."

Only then did Andrew realize that he was the only one still in the air; everyone else had already come down. Only then did he remember the instruction he had just received—rise a little, then land.

Wasn't getting your feet off the ground supposed to make you smarter?

After confirming that he could fly, he had gotten carried away and his brain had short-circuited...

He began pressing down lightly on the broom, lowering himself steadily.

"A very good start for a first-year, and you didn't panic..."

Madam Hooch's expression improved. "All right, three points to Ravenclaw."

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