The flying class was supposed to be exciting.
At least, that was what everyone said.
The class gathered on the wide, open lawn beneath a clear sky, brooms neatly lined up on the grass. Slytherins clustered together on one side, Ravenclaws on the other. Madam Hooch stood at the center, silver whistle hanging from her neck, eyes sharp and no-nonsense.
"Before we begin," Madam Hooch said loudly, "a brief history of broom flight."
A collective groan rippled through the students.
She ignored it completely.
She spoke about early broom designs—unbalanced handles, unstable enchantments, and a shocking number of fatalities. Then she moved on to modern advancements.
"Flying is dangerous. Carelessness leads to broken bones—or worse. I expect absolute obedience during this lesson."
Her gaze swept the field and lingered just a little longer on Alexander Chen.
Alexander smiled innocently.
"Now," Madam Hooch said, "place your right hand over your broom and say Up."
"Up," echoed the field.
Brooms shot into hands—some cleanly, others wobbling, one bouncing off a student's foot.
Alexander's broom snapped into his palm instantly.
So did Cho's.
So did several pure-blood students who barely looked surprised.
Madam Hooch noticed.
"Good," she said curtly. "Now—mount your brooms. Proper posture. Hands firm, knees tight."
She demonstrated smoothly, hovering inches above the grass.
"Today, you will not fly high," she warned. "Only a few inches off the ground. This is a safety measure."
The whistle blew.
Students rose shakily, brooms wobbling as panic and excitement mixed.
Alexander lifted off effortlessly.
Perfect balance. Relaxed posture. No hesitation.
Cho did the same, steady and controlled.
Several Slytherins hovered like it was second nature.
Madam Hooch's eyebrows rose.
She circled them slowly, observing.
"Ten points to Ravenclaw," she announced.
"And ten to Slytherin. Excellent control."
Alexander blinked.
"Oh," he muttered. "Free points."
The rest of the class, however, was… less graceful.
Madam Hooch spent most of the lesson correcting posture, shouting instructions, and stopping students from drifting sideways into each other.
"Lean forward—forward!"
"No, don't pull up like that!"
"Feet tight—tight!"
Alexander hovered lazily, watching.
She demonstrated turns. Stops. Controlled descents.
Alexander followed perfectly—because he already knew how.
Boring, he thought.
This was supposed to be thrilling. Wind in your face. Speed. Risk.
Instead, it was hovering practice.
At least it was only once a week.
And only for a month.
Easy.
As Madam Hooch guided the struggling students through another slow turn, Alexander rested one hand on his broom handle and glanced at the sky.
Maybe next year, he thought.
When they finally let us fly for real.