Teaching Resources Melt Like Butter~

He had to get a proper weapon!

Since he'd decided to make a flying mount with weapon functions, he definitely couldn't use ordinary steel—the best choice was still Goblin Metal.

The famous Sword of Gryffindor was forged by goblins. If he could ask a goblin to make one for him...

Unfortunately, he had no connections among goblins for now.

Besides, even if he found a goblin, he'd still have to pay to get them to work for him willingly.

One step at a time. For now, the most important thing was to master flying first.

"Big brother, how did you make the broom fly?" Ron sneaked a glance at Tom, like a student peeking at a neighbor's answers during an exam.

Even Harry, who was a bit thick-headed, had gotten his broom off the ground, but Ron's was still lying there motionless.

"Add a little feeling." Tom recalled his own operation just now.

"You can't treat the broom as an ordinary tool. Instead, treat it as one of your own—like... a subordinate."

Tom put the broom back on the ground and demonstrated again.

"You tell it to rise, and it must rise, because that's the master's command."

This time, before Tom even said "rise," the moment he reached out his hand, the broom flew straight into his grip.

Tom's voice was loud enough for all the students present to hear. Some struggling young wizards tried his method immediately, and sure enough, their brooms flew up.

["Genius Educator" +1 progress]

["Genius Educator" +1 progress]

It worked!

Tom had successfully taken his first step toward the position of Hogwarts Headmaster.

"Very good. All students can learn from this..." Madam Hooch clapped for Tom, but when she had to say his name, she paused for a moment, briefly recalling the full list of new students before continuing: "Mr. Riddle. Learn from him—he has already tamed his broom completely."

"Slytherin gains 2 points."

Seeing Tom already earning points, the other students felt a sense of urgency and started shouting even louder.

Time passed...

"Please, please, broom, please fly up~" Neville's voice gradually took on a hint of tears.

Everyone else's brooms had already flown up, but his just wouldn't.

No matter how loud he shouted, his broom at most flopped over on the ground like a salted fish.

As if his prayers had been answered, the broom actually flew up and slowly drifted into his hand.

"Haha! Neville, you're so pathetic. We're all masters of our brooms, but I think you've let your broom become your master." Draco let out a snicker.

Neville, who had just been a little happy, immediately slumped his face in shame.

"Ahem! Mr. Malfoy, shut your mouth. This classroom is no place for idle chatter." Madam Hooch shot him a glare.

"Alright, next step of the lesson. Everyone mount your brooms. Note: just mount them—no extra movements."

Tom swung his leg over the broom and was surprised to find a cold, invisible seat beneath him. He looked down but saw nothing.

No wonder.

Before he'd crossed over, he'd always wondered: didn't wizards find broomsticks uncomfortable to sit on? Every time he saw a flying witch in a cartoon, he'd flash back to sitting on the front bar of an old bicycle as a kid.

The school's flying brooms were crude, ancient relics from who knows how many years ago. If he swapped for a brand-new, expensive broom, the invisible seat beneath him would probably be much more comfortable—maybe even with a heating function, so his butt wouldn't freeze in winter.

Next, Madam Hooch began explaining the specifics of how to fly, while correcting everyone's posture so they wouldn't slide off mid-flight.

As she droned on and on, Madam Hooch suddenly noticed that everyone's attention had shifted—they were all staring at the sky instead of her.

"What are you looking at? Is there an answer in the sky?"

Madam Hooch looked up and finally noticed Neville, who had somehow flown right over her head.

"Mr. Longbottom, what are you doing? I haven't given you permission to take off yet."

"I—I can't seem to stop." Neville's voice was clearly filled with panic.

He was desperately trying to control the broom, but it insisted on flying, refusing to listen to him.

"Longbottom, Mr. Longbottom! Neville!!" Madam Hooch shouted upward in an increasingly stern tone, but she didn't pull out her wand.

"..." Tom was speechless.

As a professor-level witch, didn't she know that most first-years were experiencing magic for the first time?

When a student's magic went out of control, a professor like her just stood there yelling, completely clueless about how to handle an emergency—more at a loss than the students themselves.

This was the result of being too lazy on a daily basis.

If becoming a Hogwarts professor required an exam, Madam Hooch would definitely fail.

By now, Neville had already flown five meters high, and he was still climbing.

Whoosh!

A gust of wind swept past the crowd, and by the time they came to their senses, Tom had vanished.

His broom remained where it was, but two deep footprints marked the spot where he had stood.

Looking up, they saw that Tom had somehow leaped beneath Neville, one hand gripping his broom.

"Riddle!!" Madam Hooch shrieked.

She suddenly remembered that after yesterday's Sorting Ceremony, Dumbledore had privately instructed all professors to give Tom a bit of extra consideration within normal bounds.

At first, as a teacher with few classes, she hadn't paid much attention to this directive. But now...

Tom had taken to the skies with Neville!

If the two of them just got injured, that would be one thing. But if something happened that even magic couldn't fix...

She felt her teaching credentials melting away like butter.

She quickly pulled out her wand, intending to force them to stop with magic.

But the broom in the sky seemed to have a mind of its own. Whenever a spell hit it, it began thrashing wildly—first a huge loop, then a sharp zigzag, then... it climbed higher and higher, nearly ten meters up.

A moving target like that was impossible to aim at.

"Completely out of control," Tom remarked.

Even with two people's weight on it, the broom's responsiveness hadn't diminished at all—it was impossible to steer.

"Tom, why aren't you panicking?!" Neville was completely numb.

Saliva was flying from his mouth as the broom shook him, yet Tom, hanging on with one hand, hadn't let out a single cry.

"Neville, brace yourself," Tom suddenly warned.

"What?"

Crack!

Tom's hand suddenly tightened, and the wooden handle of the broom he was gripping shattered. The magical circuit inside was forcibly broken.

With the flight enchantment gone, they stopped rising. Carried by the broom's last momentum before breaking, they were flung upward a few more meters...

"Why is the ground rising, Tom?" Neville asked, head down, both nervous and curious.

"Don't worry. You'll feel a bit dizzy in a moment."

Tom grabbed Neville and pulled him into his arms.

At this height, landing would be fine for him given his physical condition, but Neville was another story. He had to do something.

With that thought, Tom quickly pulled out his wand from his robes.

"Wing-gar-di-um Le-vi-OH-sa~"

The Floating Charm—a first-year essential spell that made light objects levitate.

While this spell couldn't easily lift a person weighing dozens of kilograms, it could still reduce some of their weight.

Boom!

Dust exploded everywhere.