Ancient Magic

Tom stood with his arms crossed, watching the entire scene with cold eyes, silently cursing Madam Hooch for a fool.

Neville had been in the air for nearly half a minute before he fell, yet she had done nothing but shriek. She hadn't even drawn her wand, let alone used a spell to control him or a Levitation Charm to save him. She was no different from a Muggle grandmother and was utterly unfit to be a professor.

"That was terrifying!" Daphne's small face was deathly pale as she gripped Tom's arm tightly. "Is Longbottom going to be alright?"

Tom patted her hand, his tone indifferent yet laced with certainty. "What are you panicking about? He won't die."

"It was only twenty feet—about six meters, the height of two floors. Unless he landed on his head, at most he'll have a fracture or a broken bone."

"Didn't you see him walk to the hospital wing on his own? In the wizarding world, a minor injury like this will be fixed with a wave of Madam Pomfrey's wand."

Hearing this, Daphne's complexion improved. She tossed her broom onto the ground and gave it a disgusted kick.

"This piece of junk is too dangerous. I'm not using it." Her broom looked even less sturdy than Neville's; if she flew up and fell, it would be a disaster.

As the two were talking, a commotion broke out nearby. Tom looked up to see Malfoy holding the Remembrall that Neville had dropped, mocking Harry with a sneer. As they argued, both of them kicked off their brooms and soared into the sky.

A chorus of gasps erupted around them. No one expected that Harry, who had never ridden a broom before, would take to it like a fish to water. He performed high-difficulty maneuvers with ease, looking even more skilled than Malfoy.

Malfoy panicked after dodging twice and scrambled to throw the Remembrall away.

Just as the glass ball was about to smash into the ground, Harry dove, catching it firmly a foot above the grass. He rolled a few times, climbed up, and brushed off the dust, completely unscathed.

"Harry Potter!" Professor McGonagall came running over, her face dark with fury. She grabbed the head-bowed Harry and turned toward the castle.

The first flying lesson ended in a rush.

When Madam Hooch returned from the hospital wing and heard the students' accounts, she was so angry she nearly fainted.

She confiscated all the brooms and forced everyone to recite dry flight theory, leaving the entire class listless and yawning.

Tom didn't care; he hadn't intended to fly a broom anyway. As soon as the bell rang, he headed straight for the Great Hall. His recent training had been mentally taxing, doubling his appetite, and he had been hungry since the flying lesson.

Hermione hurried to catch up. "Tom, will Harry be expelled? He flew without permission—he broke school rules!"

Tom didn't even look back, his speed quickening as he caught the scent of meat. "Expelled, my foot. It's no big deal. Malfoy flew too, didn't he? And he's fine."

"You call that not a big deal?" Hermione looked incredulous. "Unauthorized flying is strictly prohibited!"

"You think too highly of Hogwarts," Tom said, rolling his eyes as he turned his head. "As long as you don't commit murder or arson, even if you cursed the Minister for Magic every day or hexed Albus Dumbledore to be bald, he wouldn't expel you."

He leaned into Hermione's ear and added solemnly, "As for what is a big deal? Losing is the only big deal. If you win, any rule-breaking is a trifle; if you lose, even the smallest mistake is a crime."

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

Daphne had already served his meal and was slicing a steak with gravy. Seeing him approach, she immediately pushed his plate over and moved her own aside. "Eat quickly, I saved you some roasted chicken wings."

Tom didn't stand on ceremony and tucked in. Hermione sat at the Gryffindor table, pondering Tom's words with a thoughtful expression.

Before long, Harry returned. There was no sign of dejection on his face; instead, he was grinning from ear to ear. He plopped down next to Ron and whispered, the two of them chatting so animatedly that they didn't notice Hermione listening.

"The professor didn't punish me; she actually let me join the Quidditch team! Training starts next week!" Harry lowered his voice, unable to hide his excitement.

"What did you say?" The chicken leg in Ron's hand dropped onto his plate, his eyes wide. "Seeker? You're only a first-year! Hogwarts has never had a first-year Quidditch player!"

"Keep it down! It's a secret!" Harry quickly covered his mouth. "I thought I was dreaming, too."

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

"That's amazing!" Ron replied, feeling a mix of happiness for Harry and a touch of envy.

Just then, Malfoy walked over with Goyle and Crabbe, arms crossed in a sneer. "Potter, this is your last dinner at Hogwarts, isn't it? Pack up and go back to the Muggle world once you're done!"

He had expected to see Harry angry and resentful, but Harry was unusually calm, even playful. He didn't look at Malfoy, but instead stared at Goyle and Crabbe.

"You weren't this bold in the air," Harry said slowly. "Now that you've got your lackeys to back you up, you're acting like a big shot?"

Malfoy's face turned livid, trembling with rage. Goyle and Crabbe clenched their fists and glared at Harry, but with professors at the high table, they dared not strike, forced to swallow their anger.

"You've got guts! Dare to have a duel? Tonight!" Malfoy spat out.

No sooner had Malfoy finished speaking than Ron stood up, slamming his hand on the table to accept on Harry's behalf. "A duel? You're on! Who's afraid of who? Tonight it is!"

Harry was stunned on the spot. After Malfoy and his cronies left, he hurriedly pulled Ron aside. "What is a wizard's duel actually like? Do we need seconds? What are the rules?"

Ron waved his hand dismissively. "Simple. If you die, your second takes over, until one side is wiped out."

Harry turned deathly pale, his lips trembling. Ron quickly backtracked. "I'm kidding! That's the old way. We're just going to trade a few hexes with Malfoy; we aren't going to actually die."

"Can we even beat them?" Harry still looked uneasy. School had only been open for two and a half weeks; he knew only a handful of spells, and they were hit-or-miss at best.

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

"Strictly speaking, that's against the rules, but if we only use wands, we'll probably be at it until dawn without hurting anyone. I've been wanting to punch him in the nose for a long time!"

Harry thought that made sense. The two huddled together to plan, finally deciding: first, break Malfoy's nose, then pull out his platinum hair, and if that didn't work, just bite him. They were determined to beat him into submission.

Hermione heard every word clearly. She frowned, wanting to stop them, but Tom's words—Losing is the only big deal—made her hesitate.

If they lost, they would be mocked by Malfoy for an entire year.

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

Harry rubbed his eyes and hurriedly got dressed. The two moved lightly, tiptoeing to the door and creeping down the spiral staircase.

The Gryffindor common room was dim, with only the embers of the fireplace providing light.

"Wait!" Just as they reached the door, a girl's voice came from behind them, making them both freeze in terror, nearly crying out.