Flying Brooms

Over the past three months, the boy had wreaked plenty of havoc on the creatures in the Forbidden Forest, especially the descendants of his good friend Aragog. He was skilled with fire, so the Black Spiders could only seethe in silence. The moment they heard his footsteps, they scuttled away in every direction.

"Luo Bin, one word of warning. Snape may be a professor, but he's hard to read. Even Professor McGonagall can't figure him out. You'd best stay away from him!"

"I know. I'll be careful!"

Like Fang, Hagrid looked rough on the outside but had a soft heart. After chatting for a while, he and Luo Bin raised their glowing wands and left the Forbidden Forest.

Before Luo Bin returned to his dormitory, Hagrid warned him again and again never to enter the Forbidden Forest alone. Otherwise, he would report it to Dumbledore and have the headmaster expel Luo Bin!

Of course, Luo Bin had heard threats like that at least fifty times. His ears were practically calloused.

Back in the dormitory, Draco lay on his bed, whimpering and groaning, while Crabbe and Goyle fussed around their young master like servants!

Luo Bin ignored the three of them and went about washing up. Draco, however, wasn't having it. "Hey, Mudblood! I'm talking to you. Get me a glass of water, now, or else..."

"Or else what?"

Thud. The wooden handle of Luo Bin's toothbrush came down hard against the bottom of his cup. The dull knock made all three boys by the bed jump.

In the shadows, his black eyes were as unfathomable as the ocean depths, concealing dangers no one could see.

Sometimes the unknown was the most frightening thing of all, because people scared themselves!

"N-nothing! Goyle, I'm thirsty. Get me a glass of water!" Draco said, his voice trembling despite his attempt to sound tough.

The teapot was only half a meter from Luo Bin. Goyle didn't dare go near it. He shoved Crabbe toward it instead, but his friend had no more courage than he did.

Crabbe thought the boy's black eyes looked just like those of the Nether Demon Wolf his grandfather had told him about. Once it chose its prey, it stared without blinking. Then, the instant it saw an opening, it sprang up and slashed off its victim's head!

"Goyle, have you prepared for History of Magic?" Crabbe said, prodding his friend's hand.

"Oh, I nearly forgot! Draco, Crabbe and I have to go. Get some rest!"

"Hey, stop! You cowards, get back here—Luo Bin, what are you doing? My father is Lucius Malfoy! If you dare touch me, he'll never let you off!"

Luo Bin advanced slowly. At Draco's threat, he laughed. "Draco, if you weren't a member of the Malfoy family, what would you have left to be proud of? Your two little followers abandoned you at the first sign of danger. When wizards duel, they need assistants ready to step in. Can you find one you truly trust?"

If a wizard was soundly defeated or killed in a duel, his assistant had to take his place.

Veins bulged on Draco's forehead, but he couldn't find a single word to argue back. Clearly, he knew Luo Bin was right!

"Hmph. What do you know? Shared interests make stronger bonds than anything else!"

With that, he crawled into bed and pulled the covers over his head. Luo Bin raised an eyebrow. Spoiled little brat. What a temper. He pursed his lips, finished tidying up, and went to sleep.

For many days after that, Draco Malfoy behaved himself a little more. His gray eyes still followed Luo Bin now and then, but he no longer dared call him a Mudblood, a lowlife, or a pauper to his face.

Of course, his attitude toward timid Neville, fiery Hermione, reserved Ron, and the others hadn't changed.

He often led his two followers in cornering them and hurling insults. They could only take so much; several times, they nearly came to blows with him!

For now, Luo Bin was focused on learning magic. His contact with Harry, Ron, and Hermione was limited to classes and the times Hermione chased him down to ask about his study methods.

His time outside class was packed. On Mondays and Tuesdays, he reviewed magic; on Wednesdays, he observed the stars; on Thursdays and Fridays, he brewed potions; and on Saturdays and Sundays, he practiced controlling fire.

A notice broke the calm. Flying Class for first-years would begin that week, and as it happened, Gryffindor and Slytherin had been assigned the same lesson!

Thursday afternoon, on the open ground beyond the front steps!

Dozens of Broomsticks lay at an angle on the lawn, each beside a first-year whose eyes shone with excitement.

Over the past few weeks, Luo Bin had earned Slytherin dozens of points and had become the standout first-year in his house. Naturally, he got first pick of the Broomstick.

The Broomstick in front of Luo Bin gleamed, with straight, neatly arranged twigs at its tail. It stood in sharp contrast to the battered broom beside Harry, whose twigs stuck out every which way. When Harry gave him a friendly smile, Luo Bin nodded back!

"First-years, hold your right hand over your broom and say 'Up' firmly and confidently. Then put the sole of your shoe against the bound end of the twigs, like this. Once the broom rises a little, use your hips to lift your right leg and mount it."

"Remember, grip the handle tightly with both hands. That's how you control the broom. Tilt the handle slightly upward, and the broom will rise..."

Madam Hooch, her striking gray hair cut short, demonstrated as she loudly explained the essentials of flying.

What young wizard hadn't dreamed of flying?

Luo Bin had wanted to ride a Broomstick for ages. He tilted his head, pricked up his ears, and committed every word Madam Hooch said to memory.

"All right. I'll count to three, and then you can try it yourselves. One, two, three! Say 'Up' firmly and confidently!"

"Up!"

Every first-year shouted, but only Luo Bin and Draco managed to summon their brooms into their hands!

"Luo Bin, how did you do it?"

Harry, who had failed six times, adjusted his glasses as he asked.

"Put simply, the Broomstick is a mount and the wizard is its master. You have to be firm and show it who's in charge. Then it'll listen to you!"

"Thanks. I'll try again!"

With Harry's knack for such things, Luo Bin was sure he would have worked it out himself before long, even without the advice!

"Up!"

Harry spoke firmly. This time, the battered broom obliged, whizzing straight into his palm.

Madam Hooch, wearing knee-high leather boots, nodded in satisfaction. Then she went down the line, scolding the first-years who still couldn't do it. Timid Neville got the worst of it.

Ten minutes later, the first-years held their brooms and looked toward Madam Hooch, nervous and eager. "All right, wait for my whistle. Remember, push off hard with your legs and keep a tight grip on the handle!"

Madam Hooch raised her whistle, but before she could blow it, an overwrought Neville kicked off with both his thick legs. He and his broom shot into the air.

"Come back, child! Come back!" Hooch shouted, craning her neck.

"Ahh! Help! Grandma! I'm scared!"

Neville was too frightened to open his eyes. He clung desperately to the broom handle, but it was too slippery, and his palms were slick with sweat. The out-of-control Broomstick careened about, striking a treetop one moment and a stone wall the next.

A dozen or so seconds later, he could hold on no longer. His hands slipped, and he fell hard, face-first!