Ancient Magic

Throughout the whole thing, Tom watched coldly with his arms crossed, cursing Madam Hooch for being an idiot.

Neville had been in the air for nearly half a minute before he fell. She'd done nothing but shout; she hadn't even pulled out her wand. She neither used a spell to control him nor cast the Levitation Charm to save him. She was no different from a Muggle housewife and didn't deserve to be a professor.

"That was terrifying!" Daphne's little face had gone pale as she clutched Tom's arm. "Neville's going to be okay, isn't he?"

Tom patted her hand, his tone casual but confident. "What are you panicking for? He won't die."

"It was only twenty feet up, about six meters—the height of a two-story building. As long as he didn't land on his head, he'd get a few cracks or fractures at most."

"Didn't you see him walk to the Hospital Wing himself? For an injury that minor in the Wizarding World, Madam Pomfrey only needs to wave her wand."

Daphne looked a little better after hearing that. Then she tossed her broom to the ground and kicked it in disgust.

"This piece of junk is too dangerous. I'm not using it." Her broom didn't look any sturdier than Neville's. If it sent her soaring into the air and then crashing down, she'd be in real trouble.

As the two of them talked, a commotion broke out nearby. Tom glanced over and saw Malfoy pick up the crystal ball Neville had dropped and taunt Harry. The two argued, then kicked off on their brooms and flew into the air.

A chorus of gasps rose around them. No one had expected Harry, who had never ridden a broom before, to fly as if he were a fish in water, pulling off difficult maneuvers with ease and flying even more skillfully than Malfoy.

After dodging twice, Malfoy panicked and flung the crystal ball away in a fluster.

Just as the crystal ball was about to hit the ground, Harry dived and caught it steadily a foot above the ground. He rolled a few times, got back to his feet, brushed the dust off, and emerged completely unharmed.

"Harry Potter!" Professor McGonagall came running over in a fury, her face dark with anger. She grabbed Harry, who had his head bowed, and turned toward the castle.

The first Flying Class ended in a hurry.

When Madam Hooch returned from the Hospital Wing and heard the students' account, she was so furious she nearly fainted.

She confiscated all the brooms and made everyone memorize dull flying theory instead. The whole class grew listless, yawning one after another.

Tom didn't care. He hadn't expected to fly on a broom anyway. As soon as the bell rang, he headed straight for the Great Hall. Training had been taxing his brain lately, and his appetite had doubled. He'd only just finished lunch, but he'd already been hungry during Flying Class.

Hermione hurried after him. "Tom, do you think Harry will be expelled? He flew without permission. That's against the rules!"

Without looking back, Tom sniffed the aroma of meat and answered rapidly. "Expelled, my foot. It's no big deal. Malfoy flew too, and nothing happened to him."

"That doesn't count as a big deal?" Hermione asked, incredulous. "Flying without permission is explicitly forbidden!"

"You're taking Hogwarts way too seriously." Tom glanced back and rolled his eyes. "As long as you don't kill anyone or set anything on fire, you could curse the Minister for Magic every day and call Dumbledore bald. He still wouldn't expel you."

He leaned close to Hermione's ear and added with a perfectly serious expression, "As for what counts as a big deal? Losing does. If you win, breaking the rules is a minor matter. If you lose, even the smallest thing becomes an offense."

With that, he turned and hurried into the Great Hall, heading straight for the Slytherin table.

Daphne had already served him some food. She was cutting his steak and pouring gravy over it. When she saw him, she immediately pushed the plate toward him, then moved her own plate closer. "Hurry up and eat. I saved you some roasted chicken wings."

Tom dug in without hesitation. Hermione sat at the Gryffindor table, turning Tom's words over in her mind with a thoughtful look.

Before long, Harry returned. He didn't look discouraged in the slightest; in fact, he was grinning from ear to ear. He plopped down beside Ron and whispered something to him. The two chatted animatedly, not noticing Hermione listening.

"The professor didn't punish me. She asked me to join the Quidditch team, and I start training next week!" Harry lowered his voice, unable to hide his excitement.

"What did you say?" The chicken leg slipped from Ron's hand and landed on his plate. His eyes widened. "A Seeker? You're only a first-year! Hogwarts has never had a first-year play Quidditch!"

"Keep your voice down! It's a secret!" Harry hurriedly covered Ron's mouth. "I thought I was dreaming too."

"Professor McGonagall said I'm the youngest Quidditch player this century. She even introduced me to Wood, the team captain. At first, I thought he was going to hit me with a piece of wood!"

"That's great!" Ron replied, looking dejected. He was happy for Harry, but also a little envious.

Just then, Malfoy came over with Goyle and Crabbe, arms crossed as he sneered. "Potter, is this your last dinner at Hogwarts? Once you're finished, you can crawl back to the Muggle world!"

He'd hoped to see Harry looking angry and resentful, but Harry was unusually calm, even amused. He didn't look at Malfoy; instead, he stared at Goyle and Crabbe.

He drawled, "You weren't so cocky up in the air. Now you've got your cronies backing you up, so you think you can act like a big shot?"

Malfoy's face turned livid, and he shook with anger. Goyle and Crabbe clenched their fists and glared at Harry, but with the professors at the High Table, they didn't dare lay a hand on him. They could only swallow their rage.

"You've got guts! Dare to face me one-on-one? Tonight!" Malfoy gritted his teeth.

As soon as Malfoy finished speaking, Ron slapped the table and stood up, accepting for Harry. "You're on! Who's afraid of whom? Tonight it is!"

Harry was dumbfounded. After Malfoy and his friends left, he hurriedly grabbed Ron and asked, "What exactly happens in a wizard's duel? Do we need assistants? Are there any rules?"

Ron waved a hand carelessly. "Easy. If you die, your assistant takes over, and they keep going until everyone on one side is dead."

Harry's face went deathly pale, and his lips trembled. Ron quickly backtracked. "I'm joking! That's an old rule. We're just going to have a little go at Malfoy. No one's actually going to die."

"Can the two of us beat them?" Harry still looked uneasy. They'd only been at school for two and a half weeks, and he knew barely any spells. The ones he did know worked only sometimes.

"What's so hard about that?" Ron scratched his head. "If all else fails, use your fists!"

"Strictly speaking, that'd be against the rules, but if we only use our wands, we could probably go at it until sunrise without hurting anyone. Just punch him right in the nose. I've wanted to hit him for ages!"

Harry thought that made sense. The two huddled together to discuss their plan, and finally decided they'd first break Malfoy's nose, then yank out his platinum-blond hair. If that didn't work, they'd bite him. They were going to beat him into submission no matter what.

Hermione heard every word they said. Her brows furrowed, and she'd been about to stop them, but Tom's words—"Losing does"—made her hesitate.

If they lost, Malfoy would mock them for a whole year.

At half past eleven that night, Ron shook Harry awake. "Get up, it's time to go!"

Harry rubbed his eyes and hurriedly got dressed. The two tiptoed quietly out the door and went down the spiral staircase.

The Gryffindor Common Room was dark, with only the fireplace still glowing.

"Wait!" They had just reached the doorway when a girl's voice came from behind them. Both boys froze, nearly crying out in fright.