Flying and dueling

Old brooms lay beside each Little Wizard's feet.

Madam Hooch looked sharp as she instructed each Little Wizard.

Despite her repeated warnings to be careful, an accident still happened.

Neville lost control and shot straight into the sky, dropping his Remembrall.

Although his fall was cushioned, he still broke his arm.

Madam Hooch had no time to keep teaching. She hurried Neville to the Hospital Wing for treatment.

The Little Wizards from the two houses were left staring at one another.

Malfoy picked up Neville's Remembrall and began taunting Harry with it, hoping to make a fool of him. Instead, the incident unexpectedly led McGonagall to discover Harry's talent as a Seeker.

John stayed out of it. For one thing, he knew Harry was there to handle it. For another, he was still wrestling with his broom.

After several attempts, John finally got into the air.

Hermione tried to stop him from breaking the rules like those two, but her hand caught nothing. All she could do was stamp her foot in frustration.

Though he wobbled at first, John gradually got used to it and finally steadied himself.

[Ding! Blessing acquired: Pilot]

[Pilot: Increases broomstick flying speed and improves control over broomsticks]

"Even this counts?"

Once he had steadied himself, John could start flying freely.

Snape happened to pass by and saw him. He gave a cold snort, then turned and left.

Since ancient times, humans had longed for the ability to fly.

Now that John had mastered it, he kept flying until class ended, only reluctantly coming down.

At dinner, John ran into Malfoy.

With his two lackeys in tow, Malfoy had abandoned his earlier timidity. He declared haughtily, "Wick, didn't you want to duel me? Well, I'm challenging you now. Half past eleven tonight. I'll be waiting in the Trophy Room on the Third Floor."

Having said his piece, Malfoy strutted away with his two lackeys like a victorious rooster.

John watched him leave as though he were looking at an idiot, muttering, "Has this kid been listening to too much Fish Leong? Where did he get all that courage?"

Doesn't he know I have to clean the Trophy Room?

Picking up a bag of cat food Mrs. Wick had sent him, John headed to the Trophy Room as usual.

Mrs. Norris sat at the entrance. Her red, glasslike eyes caught sight of John, and she meowed.

John had gotten quite familiar with Mrs. Norris lately. He opened the bag and poured out some cat food for her.

By the time John finished polishing the trophies, Mrs. Norris had finished eating too.

He picked her up, took a comb from his pocket, and combed the tangles out of her fur.

Mrs. Norris enjoyed this immensely, purring in contentment.

Filch was probably off catching students. Once he knew John would not shirk his duties, he had gotten used to leaving him to clean the Trophy Room alone.

"Let's see what you're up to."

Knowing Malfoy would not be foolish enough to actually duel him, John decided to see what he was plotting.

He was serving his cleaning punishment here anyway, so he did not mind returning a little late.

Half past eleven arrived.

Instead of Malfoy, he heard a flurry of whispers.

Four people entered the Trophy Room: the Golden Trio, plus a wild Neville.

After having his arm treated, Neville had forgotten the common room password and been locked out for several hours. The Golden Trio had finally found him when they came out.

The four spotted John as they entered, and both sides froze.

"What are you doing here?" John asked, looking puzzled.

Harry was confused too. "Malfoy told us to come. Are you here to help him?"

John stared speechlessly at the suddenly wary Harry. "Do you think that beating I gave Malfoy at the start of term meant nothing?"

That was a fair point, leaving Harry with no reply.

Four Gryffindors and one Slytherin.

The five stared at one another until Harry caught on and said angrily, "Malfoy tricked us!"

Ron was furious too. "Those underhanded Slytherins-er... John, I didn't mean you."

Thanks to the incident at the start of term, John's impressive one-against-three fight had made him the only Slytherin the Gryffindors liked.

Across the four houses, everyone's first reaction to John Wick was that the Sorting Hat must have malfunctioned. He was clearly a Gryffindor.

Even Gryffindor's young lions thought so. The Weasley Twins reckoned the hat must have had too much dust in its eyes and had gathered a pile of detergent to wash it.

While they were talking, Filch's voice sounded outside.

John immediately understood Malfoy's plan: he wanted them caught wandering around at night.

Harry realized it too and cried in alarm, "Oh no, it's Filch! Run!"

The four had no time to worry about anything else and hurried toward the exit.

Neville and Hermione each grabbed one of John's hands and dragged him out with them.

There was clearly a reason those two had ended up in Gryffindor, the house famous for its reckless hotheads.

Without giving John a chance to explain, they turned an innocent bystander into a fugitive.

John had no choice but to run along. He even reached out to catch Neville when he nearly fell, saving him from tripping over his own feet.

They fled with Filch hot on their heels.

Every so often, a cat's meow guided Filch along.

John knew it was Mrs. Norris tipping him off and could not help grumbling inwardly, All that cat food went to waste.

After all the cat food he had given her, Mrs. Norris still sold him out without hesitation when it mattered.

They ran all the way from the Trophy Room to the vicinity of the Charms classroom.

After running so far, the four Little Wizards, who rarely exercised, leaned against the cold wall and panted.

Only John was neither flushed nor out of breath.

Strength versus magic, round two.

Strength won.

"I-told-you," Hermione complained between gasps.

"Malfoy tricked you. Do you understand now? He never intended to duel you. He must have tipped Filch off."

Harry had realized that too, but the young boy's pride would not let him admit it.

They would have to get back to the Gryffindor Common Room first. If they were caught, they could be expelled.

"That sneaky Malfoy!" Harry cursed under his breath.

They wanted to leave, but things were rarely that simple.

There was a clatter from the classroom ahead, and Peeves burst out, dressed as a clown.

The moment he spotted the Little Wizards, he let out a shrill screech.

Harry's heart sank at the sight of Peeves. "Peeves, please," he begged. "You'll get us expelled."

"I'll tell Filch and have him catch the lot of you. It's for your own good."

Ron tried threatening him, but it did no good. In his anger, he reached out and swiped at Peeves.

That stirred up a hornet's nest. Peeves immediately began shouting, drawing Filch toward them.

John glanced at Peeves and felt his temper rise.

No wonder everyone hated Peeves. He really was asking for a beating.

Peeves spotted John and remembered how fiercely he had beaten people up as soon as he arrived at school. He felt a fear rather like what he felt upon seeing the Bloody Baron.

Once this is over, just watch what I do to Peeves.

As he ran past Peeves, John viciously drew his right thumb across his throat.

He remembered there was a spell that worked particularly well on Peeves. He would have to learn it and get his revenge.

Peeves did not know what the gesture meant.

They reached the end of the corridor, where they found a locked door.

Unable to open it, Ron whimpered in despair, "We're done for."

"Move aside. Alohomora!"

John whipped out the wand hidden in his sleeve and cast the spell at the door.

With a click, the lock opened.

They hurried inside and shut the door, then pressed themselves against it, listening carefully.

Outside, Filch encountered Peeves, who argued with him and led him around in circles.

Filch was so furious and humiliated that he kept swearing.

Bored, John looked around the room. But the moment he turned, he saw three enormous heads.

The massive body nearly filled the room. Six huge, vicious eyes rolled in those heads, staring at them as though greatly surprised.

John swallowed, his voice trembling slightly. "Hermione, Harry, Ron, Neville, I think you should take a look at this."

At his words, the others turned and froze on the spot as well.

Between death and Filch, there was no question that Filch was the friendlier option.

So John did not hesitate. He reached for the handle and opened the door.

"Run!" John shouted to snap the four out of their stupor. He dragged out Neville, who was closest to him and whose legs had already gone weak, while the others hurried after them.

Bang!

The door slammed shut.