Golden Snidget and the Flying Broom

Neville Longbottom had a terrible memory—that was practically the first impression everyone got upon meeting him.

And indeed, it was true.

So his grandmother had specially sent him a Remembrall via owl.

Hold it, and if the sphere turned red, you'd know you'd forgotten something.

Just as Neville was showing it off, Malfoy, having finished his meal, happened to walk by. Then, for reasons unknown, he reached out and snatched the Remembrall away...

Yes, baffling as it was, that's exactly how it happened.

After hearing the whole story, Glenn felt the urge to press a hand to his forehead.

Sure, they were all still kids, but this kind of childish behavior—it was hard to believe a Slytherin could stoop to this!

"Malfoy, is your memory that bad?"

"At least better than that fat little bloke who forgot his robes." Malfoy lifted his nose, eyeing the furious Harry and Ron.

"Then give it back. You don't need it, unless you want Slytherin to lose more points."

Not far off, Professor McGonagall was walking their way.

At those words, Malfoy's face darkened, but surprisingly, he said nothing—just handed the Remembrall to Glenn and walked off.

He didn't even bother making an annoying face before leaving.

"What's going on?" Professor McGonagall approached.

Harry opened his mouth, but seeing Glenn holding the Remembrall, he shook his head.

"Nothing, Professor. We were just messing around."

"Alright. Mind your boundaries."

With that, the sharp-eyed professor turned and left.

Afterward, as acquaintances who'd met before the Sorting, Harry, Ron, and Neville naturally brought their food over to Glenn's table.

"If you weren't in the same house as Malfoy, I'd definitely make sure he lost some points to get back at him for you," Harry said regretfully.

He'd thought he'd never find anyone more insufferable than his cousin Dudley, who'd bullied him since childhood—but Draco Malfoy had turned out to be the exception.

"Mate, that's rough. If I got sorted into Slytherin and had to share a common room with Malfoy, I'd drop out on the spot," Ron said with deep sympathy.

"So? After the Sorting, has Malfoy been bullying you?"

Glenn thought about it. If what just happened counted as bullying, then no.

"Gemma—our prefect—keeps things pretty strict in the common room. Bullying's banned outright."

"Good to hear." That wasn't from Harry or Ron, but a girl with bushy brown hair.

"I hope you'll act more sensibly instead of looking like you're about to throw a punch." Hermione set her food down on the table.

"Here we go again," Ron muttered under his breath.

Ignoring Ron's grumbling, Hermione asked Glenn, "Did you get the notice? We've got flying lessons together today."

She sounded a bit anxious, a book titled Quidditch Through the Ages sitting on the table.

"I was hoping to find some flying tips in this book, but unfortunately, it only talks about brutal Quidditch."

"What?! Brutal Quidditch?" Hermione's remark immediately drew Ron's ire as a Quidditch fanatic.

"Quidditch is the most popular, most thrilling sport there is! That's wild charm, nothing brutal about it!" Ron's eyes were wide.

"Really?" Hermione shot back without hesitation. "Then why did it make the Golden Snidget an endangered species?"

"What's that got to do with Quidditch?!" Ron first retorted on instinct, then frowned. "What's a Golden Snidget? Sounds like a Golden Snitch..."

"It's a fast, agile bird," Glenn said with a smile, a rare curve tugging at his lips.

He might not know much about Quidditch, but when it came to the Golden Snidget, he had plenty to say.

Poppy Sweeting—a lovely, kind friend from Hufflepuff.

A century ago, Glenn and she had been comrades in the protection of magical creatures, working side by side to solve problems that seemed impossible to outsiders.

Freeing a dragon was just one of their many achievements.

But the most unforgettable was the Golden Snidget.

The last few survivors in the world, just hatched from their eggs, but targeted by poachers...

Luckily, he and that Hufflepuff friend had saved them, keeping those adorable creatures from dying at the poachers' hands.

On this topic, Glenn showed unprecedented interest, rattling off facts about the Golden Snidget without pause.

His words made Hermione's eyes light up, and even Harry, who knew next to nothing about the wizarding world, listened with rapt attention.

Even Ron had to admit that, setting Quidditch aside, the bird that was the original form of the Golden Snitch did sound pretty interesting.

"Alright, Glenn, I guess you've got some Slytherin potential after all—turning a lecture into something that hypnotic. I'm starting to feel sorry for them."

Glenn just smiled and said nothing more.

"Then how exactly do we ride a broom in flying class?" Neville took over the conversation, asking somewhat timidly.

Even though he was born into a wizarding family, he was even more worried than Harry, who had never touched a flying broom before.

Because in his entire life, he had never ridden a flying broom—his grandmother wouldn't even let him get near one.

Perhaps it was because of the brilliant explanation just now, or maybe what happened on the train earlier, that made Neville feel this peer was far more mature than himself, so he subconsciously asked the question.

And the others didn't find anything wrong with it at the time; instead, they pricked up their ears, ready to hear this Slytherin's flying guidance.

Glenn pondered for a moment, recalling the technique for riding a flying broom.

"Pick up the broom, mount the broom, push off the ground hard, and then lean forward..."

After carefully noting down Glenn's insights on riding a flying broom, Neville decided to put them to use in the afternoon flying lesson shared with Slytherin.

And then he would learn a lesson: never listen to any of Glenn's teachings as a beginner.

Under the stunned gazes of the Slytherins and Gryffindors, Neville shot off like a rocket.

Straight up into the sky, faster and faster.

Madam Hooch, the flying instructor, let out a sharp shriek at the sight, and without a word, mounted her own broom and gave chase.

Watching Neville speeding off into the distance, Glenn narrowed his eyes and thoughtfully rubbed his chin.

"It could be a little faster..."