"Merlin's… beard!"
Madam Hooch gasped aloud. Her sharp yellow eyes widened as she stared at the figure hovering midair, her face filled with unprecedented shock.
She had spent her entire life around broomsticks. She had seen ace Seekers dive like lightning. She had witnessed breathtaking aerial maneuvers.
But never—never—had she seen anything like this.
No broom.
No magical device.
Simply… flying.
Her mind raced through every spell she knew.
It wasn't Wingardium Leviosa—that charm only lifted objects and left them wobbling uncontrollably.
Nor was it any advanced flight spell recorded in textbooks—those required a wand and produced clear magical fluctuations.
Yet Lucian Thornwick merely stood there, hands clasped behind his back, not even moving a finger.
This was something entirely new.
An unknown method of flight beyond her understanding.
Up in the sky, the first-years wobbling on their brooms forgot their own precarious positions.
Their eyes locked onto a scene they would never forget.
Under the gentle support of the wind, Lucian began to move.
At first, he walked through the air as if strolling on solid ground—unhurried, elegant, silent—like invisible steps formed beneath his feet.
Then he leaned slightly forward.
The currents swirling around him accelerated.
Whoosh!
His figure blurred into a sleek black line, weaving effortlessly above the training field.
He shot upward.
He spiraled downward.
He halted midair with impossible precision, then pivoted sharply in ways that defied common sense.
Every motion radiated harmony and beauty.
He did not look like a human forcing himself into the sky.
He looked like a swallow born to it—an elemental spirit riding the wind.
Faster.
Smoother.
More refined.
The contrast between his effortless control and the trembling first-years clutching their broomsticks like falling leaves was almost cruel.
Malfoy and the other Slytherins stood open-mouthed, faces drained of color.
The flying skills they prided themselves on now seemed laughable—like toddlers learning to walk.
After several sweeping arcs across the sky, Lucian assessed calmly:
"Stability and maneuverability far exceed broom flight. However, maximum speed can still be tested."
He needed a fast target.
His gaze sharpened, scanning the distant Hogwarts grounds.
Then he saw it.
High above the Quidditch pitch, a tiny golden speck darted erratically, sunlight glinting off delicate wings.
A Golden Snitch.
Somehow loose and flying free.
For any Seeker, it was the ultimate challenge.
For Lucian, it was the perfect benchmark.
A faint smile touched his lips.
In the next instant, his entire presence changed.
If before he had been a graceful swallow—
Now he was a drawn arrow, poised to split the heavens.
"That will do."
The winds around him shifted from gentle currents to roaring torrents.
Boom!
A visible shockwave rippled outward from his body, forcing students on the ground to stumble back.
And Lucian vanished.
No—not vanished.
He became a streak of black light.
The streak tore through the air at a speed beyond human perception, trailing sharp sonic cracks as it shot toward the distant golden dot.
Too fast.
Far too fast.
The mind could not keep up.
One moment he hovered above the training field.
The next, he had appeared hundreds of meters away beside the Snitch.
The tiny golden ball—legendary for its speed and evasiveness—seemed sluggish in comparison.
Lucian did not perform any elaborate maneuver.
As he passed it, he simply extended his right hand.
And plucked it from the sky.
Effortlessly.
The Snitch buzzed and vibrated wildly in his grasp, wings beating furiously—but it could not move his hand even a fraction.
The streak of light faded.
Lucian reappeared above the training field, hovering calmly as though he had never moved at all.
Only now, in his hand, struggled a captive Golden Snitch.