Lyon could feel the broom rejecting him.
He probably really had no talent for it.
But Lyon did not care about that. Noticing the young Slytherins around him watching, he waved a hand, signaling them to mind their own business.
"All right, everyone, mount your brooms." Madam Hooch was guiding the others from afar as they began climbing onto their brooms.
"Get ready. When I call start, push off the ground hard with both feet. Remember, push hard."
Madam Hooch swept her gaze across both Houses. It was as though she had not noticed Lyon's side, while everyone else had already mounted their brooms. "One, two, three—push off!"
In that instant, all the young wizards forcefully kicked against the ground at once.
Suddenly, Lyon felt something shoot past him.
He turned his head.
It was Neville!
Neville had pushed off far too hard. His broom shot into the air like a bottle cap popping free, carrying him straight up into the sky!
"Oh! That child pushed too hard!"
Madam Hooch's eyes widened. She pointed at Neville in disbelief. "He'll be killed in the fall!"
Everyone around them nervously stared at Neville's flying body. Neville clung tightly to his Cleansweep 250.
The others held their breath at the sight. Most of them were riding brooms for the first time, and the Cleansweep 250 had terrible handling.
Before class, some Gryffindors had bragged about how amazing they had been on brooms as children, but now none of them dared say a word.
According to the original story, those boastful students should have been Slytherins.
But because of Lyon's influence, Slytherin had acted like a noble, elegant family throughout the entire term.
Like the Shelby Family led by Lyon.
At this moment, no one could save Neville.
In the air, the broom Neville