The air on the training grounds began to smell of excitement—a mix of crushed grass, nervous sweat, and the faint, ozonic scent of magic radiating from the enchanted brooms. The children around Hermione were buzzing with anticipation.
However, at this moment, something unexpected happened.
Harry Potter was worthy of being the hero; even standing still, he drew the eye. But it was Neville Longbottom, the poor, chubby boy with a perpetually nervous expression, who suddenly became the center of attention.
Under Madam Hooch's command, before the whistle had even blown to start flying, Neville's broomstick started to get out of control.
It shuddered violently beneath him. The surrounding air was disturbed, whipping up small tornadoes of dust, and the lawn was blown out of shape by the magical pressure. Immediately, Neville panicked. His face lost all color, and he kicked off hard, flying up tremblingly.
"What—"
Neville screamed in terror, his knuckles white as he death-gripped the handle.
Madam Hooch looked up, shielding her hawk-like eyes from the sun. She said angrily, "Don't fly around without my order. Neville Longbottom, come down quickly."
Neville's voice cracked, high and thin with fear. "I, can't I control it?"
Controlling a broomstick requires not only magical talent but also emotional control. Neville and Seamus were already the "living treasures" of Gryffindor clumsiness. Now that the broomstick was directly carrying him into the sky, fueled by his sheer panic, Neville's emotions naturally became even more difficult to control.
The broomstick twirled and jumped like a bucking bronco. Neville could only close his eyes in shock, his robes flapping wildly in the wind. The broomstick under his buttocks was like a wild horse running wild, leading Neville in various difficult, jerky movements in midair.
"Neville, I order you to come down now!"
Madam Hooch could only yell loudly from the ground. Faced with this sudden mechanical failure, she did not seem to have the ability to turn the tide instantly—such as flying up quickly to save Neville in mid-air.
In the early stage of the original play, although Madam Hooch was a flying teacher, she seldom showed her flying skills. At least in this movie world, she seemed grounded by shock.
High above, Neville's broom finally decided it had had enough coolness. It stopped abruptly in mid-air. At this moment, Neville's height had reached the top of the castle turrets. He slipped.
And then, Neville began to fall.
It was a terrifying sight. A small black dot plummeting against the grey stone walls.
Neville was lucky, in a grim sense. As he fell, he drifted toward the castle wall, where sharp iron tools and decorative lances were held in the hands of the stone sculptures. If Neville had moved a little further to the left, he would have directly turned into a skewer of human flesh.
Fortunately, he only hung his clothes on it.
Riiip!
The sound of tearing fabric echoed down to the lawn. Neville was a chubby little man with a heavy weight. The Hogwarts school uniforms were of good quality, thick wool and cotton, but they couldn't hold back Neville's weight and the force of gravity.
In the end, Neville's school uniform was torn by the iron spear.
"Ah!" The students below exclaimed in unison, covering their mouths.
Seeing that Neville didn't turn into a skewer of human meat, but was continuing to fall, destined to be smashed into meatloaf on the flagstones... Hermione felt a cold shiver run down her spine. Fortunately, this magical world was not a bloody and terrifying world where the God of Death was coming for a gruesome harvest.
Neville's fate was great.
When he reached the level of the second floor of the castle, a protruding iron torch decoration once again caught Neville's school uniform.
Snap.
Eventually, the uniform tore again, slowing his descent just enough. Neville fell the last few meters and hit the grass with a sickening, wet thud.
"Neville!"
Madam Hooch was the first to rush over to check on him. Neville lay in a heap, overly frightened and shuddering. His face was pale, beads of sweat standing out on his forehead, and he wailed in pain, clutching his arm.
It turned out that his wrist was broken.
Crack. The sound was visceral. This kind of pain is unbearable for an 11-year-old child.
Madam Hooch's face was grim. She turned to the rest of the class, her yellow eyes flashing.
"I'm sending Neville to the hospital now. Before I come back, none of you are allowed to fly on a broom!"
Madam Hooch warned them, her voice leaving no room for argument. She quickly helped Neville up, supporting his weight, and took him toward the hospital wing.
A farce ended, and the students looked at each other in blank dismay. The silence on the lawn was heavy.
Hermione stood frozen, very surprised.
Why is there no advanced magic or first-class safety measures in this magical world?
Just now, if there was a wizard with excellent spells present, they could have saved Neville in mid-air with a wand. A simple Arresto Momentum.
The kind Miss Hermione had briefly thought about using the Levitation Charm she had just learned to save Neville. She had gripped Windmourne inside her sleeve. But Hermione was a first-year freshman after all.
She didn't have that much confidence in her magic yet.
If she did something bad with good intentions—if the spell hit wrong and she not only failed to save Neville but killed him instead by snapping his neck or accelerating his fall—then Hermione would be responsible.
In addition to the Levitation Charm, if Hermione's driving skills were good, she could have immediately driven a broomstick up at the very moment and caught Neville when he fell.
Unfortunately, Hermione currently did not have these two rescue methods masterfully under control.
In the end, Neville relied on his own luck and managed to save his life.
With the lessons learned from Neville's broken hand, the timid little magicians all began to feel terrified of the broomstick lying in the grass beside them. This thing was much more dangerous than a car accident.
Hogwarts is indeed a dangerous school, Hermione thought, looking at the ancient castle with new wary eyes. You must know that we are only 11 years old, but we have to start flying around in the sky on a broomstick that is more dangerous than driving a car without a seatbelt.
One wrong move, and the death rate must be very high.
There are those who are timid and afraid of death, and there are those who are bold and not afraid of death.
Draco Malfoy stepped forward. He reached into the grass and picked up the glass ball that Neville had dropped. It was the Remembrall, the magic tool sent by Neville's grandma via owl just that morning.
Not only did Malfoy have no sympathy, but he laughed at what happened to Neville just now in public. The sunlight glinted off the glass in his hand.
"Look," he sneered, tossing the ball up and catching it. "This memory ball can record the things that Neville is most unwilling to remember, and when he holds the memory ball again, he will definitely be able to recall him. Fucked shit in flying class today."
Malfoy is too much!
If Neville had simply fallen down a few feet, it would be fine to make fun of it—boys will be boys. But just now, Neville almost died. This was life and death, not a joke. But Malfoy still laughed. It was so bad to the bone.
Even Hermione, who admitted he was objectively handsome, was beginning to loathe him.
What's the use of being handsome if the character is rotten trash?
However, the System option was successfully triggered at this time, blocking her view of Malfoy's smug face.
[Option 1: Warn Malfoy, let him learn to be a man, and don't go further and further down the road of villains. Complete the task, Reward: 1 Pair of Gloves.]
[Option 2: Collaborating with Malfoy, make fun of Neville as an idiot. Complete the task, Reward: 1 Roll of Toilet Paper.]
[Option 3: Keep silent, I am a melon eater (bystander). Reward: 1 Electric Fan.]
Ok!
Hermione looked at the text. The things rewarded by these 3 options were not very impressive. Gloves? Toilet paper? A fan?
These are too daily, mundane necessities. Hermione was rich; she could buy them with her own money. There was no need for rewards from the system at all if they didn't offer stats or magical power.
Forget it, she decided. Hermione still chooses to keep silent.
That's what Hermione did in the original movie anyway. She stood back.
It would be unwise to offend Malfoy for Neville's sake right now. Although Hermione has been secretly working hard to learn spells, wanting to punish Malfoy one day and let him know the "light of justice," that could only be done unconsciously or anonymously.
With such a grandiose appearance in public, Hermione is not Harry Potter. She doesn't have the plot armor. So, this kind of hero thing should be left to the male protagonist.
Sure enough, Harry did not disappoint Hermione.
While some heartless Slytherin students followed Malfoy and laughed at Neville for breaking his hand, the atmosphere was ugly.
Only Harry stood up immediately.
He stepped forward, his small frame radiating anger. Under the sunlight of justice, Harry's glasses shone brightly.
"Malfoy," Harry said, his voice shaking with suppressed rage. "Give me Neville's Remembrall."
Malfoy stopped laughing. He had always been unhappy with Harry. He was a boy from a rich family, handsome and domineering, and he felt he should have been the protagonist of the freshman year.
And Harry Potter was too famous. Just his name made the whole wizarding world thunder with awe, which naturally made Malfoy very unconvinced and jealous.
At the same time, Harry was upright and would not join forces with him. For Malfoy, Harry was the biggest thorn in his side.
Malfoy smirked, his eyes darting to the corner of the group.
"Hehe, Harry Potter, I advise you to be less prominent, less dog and mouse, and more nosy!"
While talking, Malfoy looked directly at Hermione in the corner, as if performing for an audience of one.
Hermione met his gaze and rolled her eyes angrily. You idiot, what do you think I'm doing? Don't drag me into your villain monologue.
Of course, Harry wasn't backing down. He took a step closer.
"Malfoy, don't go too far. Neville is also our classmate."
Malfoy sneered, his face twisting with cruelty. "That kind of idiot is your classmate, not mine!"
Speaking of which, Malfoy actually disobeyed Madam Hooch's warning. He grabbed his broomstick, mounted it, and kicked off hard.
He hovered in mid-air, looking down at them. He held the Remembrall high, the glass catching the light. He turned around provocatively to Harry.
"How is it? Come and get it if you have the ability!"
Harry grabbed his broom.
"Harry, don't go up," Ron said urgently.
Ron was worried that Harry would suffer or get expelled, so he reached out to stop him. "Madam Hooch said no flying!"
PLS SUPPORT ME AND THROW POWERSTONES .