Chapter 16: Flying Lesson on the Green Grass, the Deflected Remembrall (Patreon)

Thursday afternoon, half past three.

The sky over the Scottish Highlands was washed clean and clear. Warm autumn sunlight spilled across the broad, flat lawn outside the castle, and a light breeze carried the damp scent of pine needles from the distant Forbidden Forest, along with the cool smell of earth.

The joint flying lesson for Slytherin and Gryffindor began right on schedule.

Twenty old school brooms lay in neat rows on the level grass.

Most of them were battered Cleansweep Threes and Comet Two Sixties that had weathered decades of use. Their tail twigs stuck out at ragged angles, many were patched with wire, and all of them quivered uneasily in the breeze skimming the ground.

Draconia had changed into a dark green riding outfit, tailored to a perfect fit.

Fitted leather guards traced her slender, athletic figure. Her radiant platinum hair was tied high in a ponytail that bounced lightly behind her in the wind, and she looked sharp and dashing.

Now she paced back and forth at the head of the Slytherin line in a brand-new pair of dragon-hide boots, arms folded across her chest.

From time to time the young lady shot a provoking glance out of the corner of her eye at Raven beside her, a confident, cold smile playing at her lips.

"On the private pitch at Malfoy Manor, I was chasing the Golden Snitch one-handed on a Cleansweep Seven when I was seven years old. Capet… if you can't stay on your broom and fall off to eat a mouthful of mud, don't expect me to lend you a handkerchief to wipe your face."

Raven stayed calm, hands tucked into the pockets of his black, windbreaker-style robes, not so much as an eyelash trembling. "Flying high doesn't mean flying steady, Miss Malfoy. If your balance is still at a seven-year-old's level, then when you bank into the wind, you'd better pray your hair ribbon doesn't get snagged by a branch."

"You…!"

Draconia choked with fury and lifted her chin to retort, but a short, crisp whistle suddenly tore through the quiet of the lawn.

"Everyone, stop dawdling! Boys in one line, girls in another, and step up to the right side of your broom!"

Madam Hooch strode over with long steps.

Her gray-white hair was cropped short and neat, and her yellow eyes, sharp as a hawk's, swept over the first-years of both Houses with unquestionable severity. "Stick your right hand out over your broom and say, loudly, 'Up!'"

"Up!" "Up!" A ragged chorus of young voices rose from the lawn.

Harry Potter's voice wasn't loud, but the Cleansweep beside him leapt into his palm almost at once, showing a startling natural instinct for flying.

On the other side, Draconia didn't even raise her voice. She simply spoke one proud, steady syllable, and the broom flew obediently into her thin suede-gloved hand.

The young lady lifted her head in triumph and looked at Raven as if daring him.

But Raven didn't say "Up" at all.

Under the gaze of [Magic Circuit Analysis Sight], the gravity-negating runes woven through the old Cleansweep and the faint blockages in its magic flow stood out crisply in his eyes.

He merely bent slightly and held one long-fingered hand palm-down in the air. A thread of magic, impossibly fine, seeped naturally from his fingertips as a resonance pulse.

"Hmmm…"

He needed no voice to rouse it. The sluggish old broom gave a smooth, steady hum like a hawk woken from sleep, then sprang up without a hitch and dropped precisely into Raven's open fingers!

It didn't shiver even once.

Madam Hooch, standing directly in front, couldn't hide the surprise in her eyes. Her sharp gaze lingered on Raven for a full two seconds, and she gave a silent nod.

But the calm on the lawn didn't last.

"Mr. Longbottom! What do you think you're doing?!" Madam Hooch's shrill warning shattered the rhythm.

Neville Longbottom, standing in the back row, was so nervous that he'd kicked off the ground with both feet before Madam Hooch had even blown the second whistle.

The runaway old broom bucked like a spooked horse and carried the ghost-pale, screaming boy straight up twenty feet, where it whipped its tail twigs violently in midair!

Thud!

With a dull crack, Neville fell from the sky and hit the turf hard, clutching a broken wrist and groaning in pain.

Madam Hooch rushed over to examine him, then warned the whole class sternly: "Everyone stay where you are! Anyone who lifts their feet off the ground will be expelled before they know what's hit them! I'm taking Longbottom to the hospital wing!"

As Madam Hooch helped Neville away at a brisk pace, whispers broke out across the lawn, no longer held down by her presence.

In the grass, at the edge of the dirt, lay a glass ball, perfectly clear, filled with bright red smoke, and throwing back a harsh red glare. It was the Remembrall Neville had dropped.

In the original course of events, Draco Malfoy would have rushed up to snatch the Remembrall and taunted Neville and Potter with all the venom he had, kicking off a shouting match between the two Houses.

But now, Draconia walked forward in her little leather boots and bent down to pick up the Remembrall.

She did enjoy having the whole lawn's attention on her. But when she caught sight of Raven out of the corner of her eye, tall and elegant, his gaze cool, the cutting taunt she'd been about to blurt out slammed to a stop deep in her throat.

No… if I jeer at that idiot Longbottom like some shrew, that arrogant jerk will look at me again with that 'Slytherins shouldn't be vulgar' stare!

The young lady wrestled with herself in a fierce inner struggle.

Clutching the Remembrall, she drew a deep breath, raised her swan-like neck proudly, and ignored Harry and Ron glaring beside her. Instead, in front of everyone, she drove her cold, challenging gaze straight at Raven Capet!

"Look at this, a toy that clumsy Longbottom dropped." Draconia weighed the Remembrall in one hand and flipped her broom with the other, swinging lightly astride it.

Her slate-blue eyes burned with pure, fierce fighting spirit.

"Capet, flipping through dead books in the library and chopping ingredients in Potions class proves nothing. A true pure-blood has the power to conquer the sky running through her veins!"

"Whoosh!!"

Before the words had faded, Draconia pushed off lightly with her toes on the grass!

She and her broom shot up like a graceful, agile green bolt of lightning, rising in an instant to a height of thirty feet!

The wind roared at that height, whipping her radiant platinum ponytail wildly about her, like a proud nightingale circling among the clouds.

The young lady looked down from on high at the black-robed boy below, tossed the Remembrall up and caught it neatly, and cried out in a bold, ringing voice: "Raven Capet! If you've got the nerve, come up and take it from me!"

"Let's see which is better in the air, your ancient Capet line, or a Malfoy's broom!!"

The lawn erupted in uproar! Harry gripped his broom and was about to step forward, but Hermione grabbed his sleeve at once and cried, "Harry, no! Madam Hooch said you'd be expelled!"

But under the eyes of all the first-years, Raven simply raised his head. Facing the young lady aloft, her fair face flushed by the wind yet full of defiance and pride, he slowly curved his lips into a deep, amused smile.

He swung his right leg over the Cleansweep.

"Since Miss Malfoy extends such a warm invitation…"

Raven gripped the broom handle with one hand, his tone as unhurried as if he were going for an afternoon stroll in the woods. "Then as you wish."

"Boom!!"

Grass clippings sprayed! Amid the gasps of the whole lawn sucking in cold air, a figure black as a predator of the night shot up with a low, piercing howl of splitting air, like a sword driven into the heavens, and savagely tore the autumn sky open!

[Ding! Successfully deflected the course of the 'Remembrall Humiliation Incident.']

['Harry Potter's' perception of fate has subtly diverged.]

[Causality Reversal Points +160.]

[Current remaining total Causality Reversal Points: 2280.]