At nine o'clock in the morning, Kyle, Hannah, and the other Hufflepuff students walked down the steps to the grounds, ready for their first flying lesson.
It was a clear, breezy day.
As they hurried down the sloping lawn toward a flat stretch of grass on the opposite side of the grounds, the grass rippled gently beneath their feet.
The Forbidden Forest lay just beyond the lawn, the dark trees in the distance swaying in the wind.
The flying instructor, Madam Hooch, was already waiting there. She had short gray hair and yellow eyes like a hawk.
The moment he saw her eyes, a name floated into Kyle's mind—Dracule Mihooch.
Twenty or so broomsticks were lying neatly on the ground.
Hawkeye—no, Madam Hooch—swept her gaze over the young wizards.
"Well, what are you all waiting for?" she barked. "Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up."
Kyle looked down at the broom at his feet, his eyes filled with disdain.
Can this broken wooden stick with a few twigs stuck to the end actually fly?
And this batch of brooms—they had to be antiques from decades ago, right?
What kind of safety guarantee did these have?
Dumbledore certainly had a big heart, not worrying about young wizards falling to their deaths in flying class every year.
"Stick out your right hand over your broom," Madam Hooch called out from the front, "and say 'Up'!"
"Up!" everyone shouted.
Kyle's broom jumped into his hand immediately, coating his palm in dust.
This thing had definitely been gathering dust in a utility closet all summer!
Kyle threw it back onto the ground with some disgust, pulled out his wand to cast Scourgify on it, and casually cleaned Hannah's broom nearby while he was at it.
Hannah's broom didn't jump into her hand quite so quickly.
It lay on the ground, and when Hannah yelled "Up," it just gave a symbolic little hop before slapping back down onto the grass.
Hannah's situation was actually one of the better ones; for many of the young wizards, their brooms were too lazy to even hop, lying there completely motionless like dead weights.
After a while, everyone finally had their brooms in their hands.
Madam Hooch stood at the front of the group, explaining the precautions for riding a broomstick and sharing some flying tips.
For a normal wizard, there were really only two postures for riding a broom—straddling and side-saddle.
The former was the universal posture, while the latter was exclusive to witches, as side-saddle was elegant and prevented accidental exposure while wearing skirts.
In this flying lesson, Kyle intended to experiment with some more death-defying flight postures—like surfing on the broom.
Back in France, due to the strict supervision of the butler, Kyle had been forced to ride properly in the straddle position, maintaining a low speed at low altitude, circling around a few times before coming down.
As a veteran War Thunder player, a GTA military base raider, and an old hand at Battlefield, how could he be satisfied with that?
Madam Hooch was showing them how to mount their brooms without sliding off the end.
She walked up and down the rows, correcting their grip on the handle.
A moment later, everyone was mounted on their broomsticks.
Feeling the soft sensation against his rear, Kyle breathed a sigh of relief.
Fortunately, broken as the school brooms were, they at least had a Cushioning Charm on them, so his "family jewels" wouldn't get crushed.
"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off hard from the ground, keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly," said Madam Hooch.
"Hold your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then lean forward slightly to come straight back down."
"On my whistle—"
Before Madam Hooch could even blow the whistle, Kyle kicked off violently. The broom between his legs shot forward like an arrow from a bow, carrying Kyle dozens of meters away in an instant.
"Come back, boy!" Madam Hooch shouted anxiously.
However, Kyle completely ignored her shout.
Having accelerated to a certain speed, Kyle suddenly yanked the broom handle backward, pitching the nose up to an angle between 110 and 120 degrees, creating a momentary state of level flight with the broom's tail leading and the nose trailing.
Madam Hooch's mouth dropped open in astonishment.
Kyle pushed the handle forward, pressing the broom's nose back down to its original horizontal state.
After completing a beautiful Pugachev's Cobra maneuver, Kyle pumped his fist in excitement and performed a few more fighter jet maneuvers on the broomstick.
Watching Kyle soar freely through the air like a bird, Madam Hooch's gaze grew heated.
Durmstrang Institute in Germany had recently produced a Quidditch genius named Viktor Krum, who had been selected for the Bulgarian National Quidditch Team at a young age, playing the core position of Seeker.
It seemed that Hogwarts might also produce a genius Quidditch player named Kyle Dumbledore?
Using magic gathered at the soles of his feet to adhere to the surface—the same technique used for tree climbing and water walking—Kyle stood firmly on the broomstick.
Such a thrilling move caused the young wizards on the ground to cry out in unison.
Even Madam Hooch widened her eyes in disbelief.
Hogwarts actually had a young wizard with such foul-play-level Quidditch talent?
Even those national team players couldn't pull off a move like that, could they?
In truth, Madam Hooch didn't realize that Kyle was only able to stand on the broom and "sword-surf" with the aid of magic.
Because of the subtle nature of wandless magic, she hadn't detected it.
Relying solely on physical ability, there probably wasn't a single wizard in the world who could do it.
When Kyle landed steadily, all the young wizards crowded around.
The little Hufflepuff badgers, in particular, cast admiring looks at Kyle.
The little blonde girl stood beside Kyle, looking excited, as if she were the one who had just performed those dazzling maneuvers in the air.
Madam Hooch squeezed a path through the students and reached Kyle.
Her eyes were burning with fervor as she looked at him. "Kyle, are you interested in becoming a Quidditch player?"
After a thought, she added, "A professional one. I can write a recommendation letter to a Quidditch club..."
Kyle: ...
You want the son of the first Dark Lord, the future third Dark Lord, to become a professional Quidditch player?
Are you serious?
"Um, sorry, Madam Hooch, that's not where my ambition lies," Kyle refused tactfully.
"Kyle, won't you reconsider? With your talent, you could absolutely become a world-class star..."
"Sorry, Madam Hooch. Rather than a world-class star, I'd prefer to become a great wizard like Headmaster Dumbledore."
Kyle spread his hands. "However, I would be willing to join the Hufflepuff Quidditch team."
Only now did Madam Hooch remember that the young wizard before her had the surname Dumbledore.
It wasn't strange that Kyle would take Albus Dumbledore as his role model.
She watched Kyle with some regret, as if she had just let a rare treasure slip through her fingers.
What Madam Hooch didn't know was that Kyle's true surname was Grindelwald.
At Hogwarts, aside from Albus Dumbledore, only the four Heads of House knew this secret.
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