While Professor McGonagall and Dumbledore discussed a letter from Thomas Levo, head of the Auror Office at the Ministry of Magic, in the Headmaster's Office at Hogwarts, Wentworth was sweating buckets in the Room of Requirement.
Wentworth had long since lost his usual elegance. But as he looked up at the ceiling of the Room of Requirement, where a lifelike dummy hung upside down in midair, a delighted smile spread across his face.
The next afternoon, Wentworth joined a group of Hufflepuff first-years and made his way excitedly to the Quidditch Pitch. That afternoon's lesson was Flying Class, shared by Hufflepuff and Slytherin.
"I heard that every year, some first-years fall off their Broomsticks. At this time of year, almost every house has a first-year who breaks an arm or a leg!"
"Don't worry. I heard Madam Pomfrey will be waiting at the Quidditch Pitch from the start. If any of us falls off a Broomstick, she'll treat us right there!"
"Thanks. Somehow, that just made me more worried!"
As the Hufflepuff first-years walked toward the Quidditch Pitch, chatting and laughing, the Hufflepuff at the front suddenly slowed down. Seeing this, Wentworth looked ahead and spotted a group of figures in dark green robes approaching from another direction.
The most eye-catching among them was Cassandra, who walked at the front, surrounded by admirers.
If the whole of Hufflepuff now saw Wentworth as their lucky star, then Cassandra was just as much the leading figure among Slytherin's first-years.
This time, it really had nothing to do with Cassandra's background. It was simply that her skill in yesterday's duel had made her the strongest first-year in Slytherin.
The two groups spotted each other almost at the same time. Everyone stopped, their eyes filled with hostility.
"Cassandra, I'm so glad to see you're all right! I thought you'd need several days to recover!"
Seeing Cassandra on the grounds, pale but looking to be in decent spirits, Wentworth was the first to walk over and greet her.
As Wentworth approached, several Slytherin first-years around Cassandra moved to stop him, but Cassandra held them back.
Cassandra herself stepped forward to face Wentworth. With a mocking look, she said,
"What, are you disappointed to see me here?"
Wentworth hurriedly waved his hands and explained,
"You know that's not what I meant!"
Cassandra lifted her chin and said proudly,
"If you'd run out of magic, you might really have had to spend a few days in bed. But don't forget, my Head of House is Professor Snape, the Potions master everyone at Hogwarts recognizes. For him, this was no more than brewing a potion!"
Wentworth nodded repeatedly and smiled at Cassandra's words.
"I know, I know! Professor Snape even had to get the ingredients from our Head of House, Professor Sprout."
As soon as Wentworth said that, a blush appeared on Cassandra's face. She lowered her head awkwardly, but then seemed to remember something and raised it again to look at Wentworth.
"Wentworth, do you remember what you said?"
"Of course. You pick the time and place. I, Wentworth, would never lie to you about something like this!"
Satisfied with his answer, Cassandra nodded.
"Good. Then tonight. We'll decide on the place later. I'll be waiting for you tonight!"
Wentworth hadn't expected Cassandra to be in such a hurry. He looked surprised. "Tonight? You've only just recovered. Are you sure you're up for it?"
Cassandra didn't seem fazed in the slightest. She said firmly,
"Tonight it is. Stop making excuses to get out of it! And remember to bring that useless stick of yours!"
Cassandra pointed at Wentworth's robe pocket, where the tip of his wand poked out.
Seeing that there was no talking her out of it, Wentworth could only shrug and agree to Cassandra's challenge.
"Fine by me. If you don't mind, why should I? Tonight it is!"
After they finished talking, they turned to head back to their respective Hufflepuff and Slytherin groups, only to jump in fright.
They had both walked some distance away from their groups. But when they turned around, they found themselves surrounded by a crowd. Their classmates had somehow gathered behind them and were all straining to listen in on their conversation.
The unexpected sight gave them both a fright!
The Hufflepuffs and Slytherins scattered as soon as they saw the two turn around, then wandered toward the Quidditch Pitch in twos and threes. Now and then, a few words drifted back on the breeze.
"Who do you think is stronger?"
"Isn't it obvious? Wentworth, of course! Didn't you hear him worrying that Cassandra might not be up to it?"
"Rubbish. Cassandra's definitely stronger. Didn't you hear her call Wentworth useless?"
"Wentworth's stronger!"
"Cassandra's stronger!"
"Are you Hufflepuffs looking for a fight?!"
"Bring it on! You Slytherins were the ones who lost last night!"
The Hufflepuff and Slytherin first-years kept up their verbal sparring as they walked toward the Quidditch Pitch.
Wentworth and Cassandra, however, stood frozen in place, unable to react for a long while.
"Wentworth... just you wait until tonight!"
Cassandra's cheeks, pale just moments before, had now turned much rosier. She stamped her foot, tossed those words over her shoulder, and ran toward the Quidditch Pitch without looking back.
Wentworth could only give a wry smile and follow far behind her toward the pitch.
Wentworth was the last to arrive. By then, Madam Hooch was already waiting, and numerous Broomsticks were laid out in neat rows on the lawn in front of her.
Wentworth hurried back to the Hufflepuff group. A Broomstick lay at his feet.
But when he got a good look at the Broomstick, his heart sank.
The broom was clearly ancient, its bristles as bald as a receding hairline. Its tail was ragged, and the broom itself had several visible cracks.
Wentworth suddenly realized that what everyone had said before class—that every year, some first-years fell off their Broomsticks—might not be just a rumor.
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