"If you ask me, this is much more dangerous than football."
Adrian looked uneasily at the broom lying on the ground. Unlike children born into other wizarding families, he didn't have much interest in flying. Naville shared his sentiment, his eyes staring blankly at the broom, as if seeing through it.
"I have to agree," Adrian muttered, "but then again, who told us we had to be wizards?"
Dwelling responded in a relaxed tone. Truthfully, he had no interest in flying either. He could teleport. Who still needed to ride a broomstick?
"Speaking of which, why did you bring a toad to this class?" Adrian asked, glancing at El, the toad perched on Dwelling's shoulder.
"Oh, he's been indoors for so long I'm afraid he'll turn into a specimen. I brought him out for some fresh air," Dwelling replied casually.
At that moment, Madam Hooch walked over.
"Alright, what are you all waiting for?" she barked.
"Everyone stand next to a broomstick. Quick, quick, move it!"
Dwelling gently took El off his shoulder and placed him in an open space farther away before stepping in front of his broom. It looked ancient—like it had been used for twenty years straight. Twigs poked out awkwardly, giving it a wild, neglected appearance.
"Extend your right hand and place it above the broom handle," Madam Hooch instructed.
"Then say: 'Up!'"
"Up!" everyone shouted.
Dwelling did the same. His broom only trembled slightly, refusing to rise. Laughter erupted beside him—Malfoy.
"Maybe French people are better suited to riding carpets. They're all old-fashioned, can't keep up with modern times," he sneered.
"Or maybe French blood just doesn't have broom-riding genes. Stay on the ground and don't embarrass Hogwarts."
Dwelling frowned slightly but ignored Malfoy's taunt. After all, he didn't really consider himself French. Instead, his attention was still on the broom—it felt… hesitant.
Since receiving the entry [Genius Wand Maker], Dwelling realized he could vaguely communicate with magical items that had stronger spiritual energy. However, most enchanted objects lacked enough 'life' to respond meaningfully. So, this ability remained mostly unused. The most vivid experience he had was when selecting his wand—it had almost bonded with him immediately, but that happened before he acquired the entry. Once he did, his wand was so obedient it might as well have been part of his arm. There was never any conflict to trigger the ability.
Today, though, things were different.
Dwelling felt that the broom was... afraid? It seemed to resist him not out of rebellion but out of fear—fear of heights.
He was speechless. A flying broom… afraid of heights?
What did its previous owners do to traumatize it so badly?
So Dwelling tried something unusual—he began to comfort the broom. Quiet words, gentle reassurance. Eventually, the broom gave in and floated up into his hand.
By now, most students had succeeded. Madam Hooch began instructing them on how to lift off and land safely.
Dwelling remembered that Neville was probably about to have his famous flying mishap. But he couldn't help him now. His own broom was still trembling anxiously in his grip like a frightened animal.
He gripped the handle tightly, whispering soothing words. Whether or not the broom understood him, it was all he could do.
He instinctively reached for his wand for reassurance. As he shifted his grip slightly—
"Hold the broom steady, rise a few feet, then lean forward and land straight down. Wait for my whistle—three, two—"
Neville shot straight up into the sky before Madam Hooch even finished.
"Come back, child!" she shouted.
But Neville zoomed higher, wobbling out of control.
And that's when it happened—Dwelling's broom reacted.
Startled by the noise and movement, it freaked out like a spooked horse. It shook violently—then bolted!
Straight toward the Forbidden Forest.
It flew low, skimming the grass, slicing the field into two streams of waving green. Dwelling held on desperately. It felt like being inside a sports car with failed brakes.
Trees came rushing up—he might crash and die any second.
As he neared the forest edge, Dwelling leaned to dodge a massive tree trunk—then another. Just barely avoiding both, he yanked his wand free from his belt.
"Wingardium Leviosa!" he shouted.
A sudden force lifted him off the broom just in time.
The broom slammed headfirst into a tree.
If he hadn't cast that spell, Hogwarts would have lost a future academic star—a potions genius—right then and there.
He gently floated down, landing on soft forest underbrush.
Looking around, he saw only darkness and trees. No immediate threats.
He approached the tree and tried pulling the broom out. But the poor thing was so deeply embedded that even with all his strength, it wouldn't budge.
He sighed and was about to give up when he heard something.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Not human footsteps—something else.
He turned quickly, wand raised in defense.
And saw a creature unlike anything he'd encountered before.
A being with the upper body of a human—shimmering white-gold hair, piercing blue eyes—and the lower body of a golden horse.
A centaur.
"Need help?" the centaur asked in a deep, calm voice.
Honestly, if Dwelling ignored the horse part, this was the most handsome… person… creature he'd ever seen in this world.
Momentarily stunned, Dwelling recovered and pointed to the tree.
"My broom's stuck."
The centaur didn't say a word. He walked up, grasped the broom, and with one smooth pull, freed it.
Then he handed it over.
"It's dangerous here. Leave quickly."
And with that, the centaur galloped off deeper into the forest.
Tap. Tap. Tap…
The hoofbeats faded into the distance.
Dwelling looked at the broom—it had a large, splintering crack running down its handle. Flying was probably out of the question now.
He tried several repair spells but none worked. The damage was too severe.
Yes, the Forbidden Forest was indeed dangerous.
Not wasting any more time, Dwelling ran back the way he came. Thankfully, he hadn't gone in too deep. Soon, he emerged back onto the training field.
Neville had already fallen. Madam Hooch was preparing to take him to the infirmary.
She saw Dwelling's damaged broom and wanted to take him along too, but Dwelling showed her he was fine. She eventually relented and left with Neville, who was still sniffling.
And now, the real show was about to begin—
Draco Malfoy!
Harry Potter!
The classic duel—two dragons chasing a pearl!
FOR MORE CHAPTER
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