Tris had once thought that magical devices capable of sensing emotions and thoughts had to be incredibly rare and sophisticated.
Only after coming here had he discovered that this idea did not hold true in the wizarding world.
Just about any random thing in the wizarding world could have thoughts of its own and sense the emotions and thoughts around it.
Take the car his dad had cobbled together with whatever the hell he felt like. It might be behaving itself now, but next year it could well end up in Hogwarts' Forbidden Forest, living wild and free.
And then there were these flying broomsticks. Just listen to what Madam Hooch was saying.
"Let the brooms feel your emotions. Let them know that you are their masters. Show some confidence," Madam Hooch said.
Let the brooms feel their emotions...
These things lying on the ground were so shabby that Tris would not even have used them to sweep.
The students followed their professor's instructions. Of the twenty-one students from the two houses, seven got their brooms to jump into their hands on the first command.
Three were from Gryffindor: Harry, Ron, and Parvati. Four were from Slytherin: Draco, Blaise, Theodore, and Daphne.
Tris saw nothing surprising about six of them. The only one who caught him off guard was his twin brother, Ron.
He remembered Ron's broom being rather disobedient in the film. Why had it jumped straight up this time? Was it because Ron was no longer dressed entirely in eighth-hand clothes, giving him enough confidence to influence the broom?
Tris could think of no other explanation, so he settled on that.
Seven had gotten their brooms straight into their hands, while only three had brooms that had not moved at all.
Two were in Gryffindor, Hermione and Neville, and one was in Slytherin: Tris. Even Goyle's and Crabbe's brooms had at least hopped upward, just not high enough.
"What's going on?" Hermione stood directly opposite Tris. Looking from her motionless broom to his equally motionless one, she could not help feeling puzzled. "Could people with good grades be less compatible with flying broomsticks?"
"That's not a thing." Ron stood beside Hermione.
A month into term, Ron had finally learned just how terrifying Hermione was.
Tris's essays were so distinctive that the professors might remember them, so Ron no longer dared to "refer to" his work too much. Being in different houses also made things inconvenient at times, and Hermione's true worth as an academic genius was gradually becoming clear.
This differed from the original story. In the original timeline, Harry and Ron had not gotten along particularly well with Hermione at first. Their relationship had only improved after the Halloween incident.
But thanks to Tris's presence, everyone had already gotten to know each other on the train, and they had become good friends at school.
Friendship was one thing. Getting crushed was another.
Apart from Transfiguration, where he could barely keep up with Hermione, Ron was completely outclassed by her in every subject. He had been nursing a grudge over it for some time.
Now, seeing Hermione's broom remain motionless while she actually wondered whether it had something to do with good grades, he immediately let his mouth run. "Professor McGonagall has the highest marks across all subjects in recorded N.E.W.T. history, but she was a brilliant Quidditch player when she was young."
"Really?" Hermione looked surprised.
"Of course!" Ron looked immensely pleased with himself, though it was hard to say why Professor McGonagall's accomplishments made him so proud.
He was about to say more when Madam Hooch's voice rang out. "No talking. Those who haven't succeeded, try again."
Hermione stopped looking at Ron or Tris and called to her broom again. This attempt went a little better. Though it still showed no intention of rising, it at least rolled over.
The other young wizards made varying degrees of progress too, but two students' brooms still did not move at all.
Yes, one was Tris, and the other was Neville.
Tris was getting annoyed. This broom really was refusing to give him any dignity!
Neville, meanwhile, was panicking. His voice trembled, with the faint sound of tears in it. "Up, up!" By the end, he was practically begging, but the broom still did not budge.
"Put more feeling into it. Let the broom sense it," Madam Hooch reminded them.
This time, Tris tried putting some expression into his voice too. The other students' brooms all sprang up. Crabbe's and Goyle's did not rise quite high enough, so they reached down and caught them, following Draco's suggestion. Everyone else's broom had jumped into their hand, including Hermione's.
The only two who still had not succeeded were Tris and Neville.
Neither of their brooms had moved an inch.
"How strange." Madam Hooch looked puzzled at their motionless brooms. She went over to Neville first.
Neville was on the verge of tears as he looked timidly up at her.
Madam Hooch patted his head, then held her hand over the broom. "Up."
The broom did not move.
"Huh?"
Soft murmurs of surprise spread through the class.
Before the lesson, quite a few students had looked into the flying instructor who had been absent for a month. Their conclusion was that she was seriously badass!
A former professional Quidditch player and Welsh international, she had also served as a senior referee and was an honorary vice president of the International Quidditch Confederation. She was the queen of the entire Quidditch world.
Yet now, when this formidable figure in Quidditch called to a broom, it did not move at all.
Madam Hooch herself was rather surprised. She had not encountered a broom that refused to obey her in at least twenty years. Bending down, she picked it up and examined it before saying with some displeasure,
"The older student who prepared the brooms for me took the wrong one. This broom was involved in a little accident. It's damaged and hasn't been repaired yet."
The whole class: ...
Only Neville breathed a sigh of relief, feeling as though a weight had been lifted from his shoulders.
Madam Hooch then came over to Tris.
Tris looked at her. "Professor, is my broom also..."
Before he could finish, Madam Hooch held her hand over his broom. "Up."
The broom shot straight into her hand.
"Well, Mr. Weasley, it seems there's nothing wrong with your broom," Madam Hooch said.
Pfft.
Someone snorted first, and then a dozen or more students burst out laughing together.
Ron showed his twin brother no mercy whatsoever, laughing so hard he stamped his feet. Harry could barely stay upright and clung to Seamus beside him.
Tris, who had handled most lessons with ease since term began and earned praise from numerous professors for his homework, had actually made such a spectacular fool of himself in flying class?
The young wizards meant no harm. They simply wanted to laugh at him.
For once, even Tris's shameless face flushed.
This is so fucking embarrassing. When Neville's broom had turned out to be broken, he had assumed his must be broken too.
Exactly. I'm the protagonist. Even if I don't like flying broomsticks, there's no reason for a broom to treat me with such contempt. Mine must be broken too.
But Madam Hooch had personally shattered that notion.
At that moment, Tris could only feel waves of heat washing over his face.
"I'll fetch another broom. Stay here and don't wander off. Nobody is to take off before I return, or I'll give them detention!" With that, Madam Hooch mounted a broom and flew toward the broom shed to fetch another.
"Hahaha!" As soon as Madam Hooch left, Draco, who had more or less finished laughing, burst into laughter again. His earlier laughter had been genuine, but this time it sounded far more deliberate.
"What's wrong, Malfoy? Are your reflexes slower than everyone else's? Did you only just get it? Even a pig reacts faster than you." Tris gave Draco a scornful glance.
Draco's smile froze on his face.
Over the past month or so, he had experienced Tris's vicious tongue more than once. It was truly infuriating.
Every time Tris opened his mouth, his barbs made Draco want to charge at him and fight to the death. Draco had indeed charged at him before, but lately he had lost the nerve.
Tris's punches really hurt!
But if anyone thought that alone would make young Master Draco submit or back down, they were dreaming. At most, he would stop throwing the first punch!
Draco had figured it out: as long as he did not insult the Weasley family or start a fight, Tris would not hit him.
As long as they kept it verbal rather than physical, Draco maintained that he had nothing to fear. He also considered himself incredibly clever.
Just like now. Although Tris's retort had left him tight-chested with anger, Draco had no intention of backing down. He took a deep breath, suppressed the urge to charge over and fight-or get beaten up-and gave a contemptuous smile.
"Ha! Looks like the Weasley family really is finished. Even a broom won't give you the time of day, never mind Quidditch."
"That's an interesting thing to say." Tris smiled. "There are two Weasleys in the Quidditch league right now, and my second-oldest brother nearly went professional too. Even Ron got his broom to obey on the first try.
"What about you Malfoys? Have you ever produced anyone worth mentioning in Quidditch?"
Why did Britain's pure-blood wizarding community look down on the Weasleys but still acknowledge them as one of the Twenty-Eight Families? Apart from their long history, another important reason was that they really knew how to breed!
Aside from Arthur's branch of the main line, the Weasley family actually had several collateral branches. Some had even settled abroad, though they still occasionally kept in touch with the family here.
And among those Weasley branches that had left Britain, two members really were professional Quidditch players.
They might only play for second-tier teams, but it was still a genuine profession.
As for Charlie nearly becoming a professional player, plenty of people in pure-blood circles knew about that too.
Draco remembered this as well and, for a moment, had no idea how to respond.
Seeing that, Tris looked thoroughly unimpressed. "Tell me, Malfoy, did you practise hundreds of times at home until you finally got your broom to obey, then come here to show off?
"I've heard you brag about flying alongside Muggle planes, haven't I? Do you know how high Muggle planes can fly? Do you know that a broom's theoretical maximum altitude isn't even a fraction of a plane's normal cruising altitude?
"There's nothing wrong with bragging. Getting caught out is what makes it embarrassing."
"Hahaha!" Seeing Draco turn scarlet under Tris's barrage, the others might have shown a little restraint, but Ron and Harry held nothing back and burst out laughing.
Draco was so furious he nearly stamped his feet. Pointing at Tris, he said, "Weasley, I challenge you. Let's compete at flying!"
Tris rolled his eyes. Why would I compete with you at flying? If you've got the guts, let's compete at Transfiguration.
But before he could speak, Ron, standing beside him, could no longer bear to stay out of it. "Tris doesn't like flying. Malfoy, if you want a flying contest, I'll take you on."
Seriously?
Tris looked at Ron. My foolish big brother, what exactly are you trying to pull?