The Great Hall buzzed with chatter that morning, louder than usual. Plates clinked and forks scraped, but the true energy came from the excited voices of first-year students. Today was no ordinary school day. It was the day of their first Flying Lesson—the very first step toward one day joining a Quidditch team.
At the Gryffindor table, Cael Vale nibbled absently on a piece of toast, barely tasting it. The nervous excitement in his stomach made eating difficult. Across from him, Angelina Johnson leaned over with a grin.
"Today's the big day," she said. "First flying class! You nervous?"
Cael shook his head, eyes bright. "Not really. I mean, it's wild, right? In the Muggle world, you need a huge metal plane and a pilot's license just to get airborne. The idea of flying on a stick? I just have to try it. Besides…" He leaned in, lowering his voice, "…I want to find out if I've got a flying phobia. Hopefully not."
Alicia Spinnet giggled into her pumpkin juice. "You're braver than I was. My first flight was a disaster. Took me four classes just to make the broom hover properly."
"Four?" Cael blinked.
"Mm-hm," she said, mock-proudly. "I've improved, mind you—but that broom and I had serious communication issues."
Across the table, Fred and George Weasley joined in, smirking.
"You'll do fine, Cael," said Fred. "Just don't hold your broom upside-down like George did."
George shot him a look. "I was experimenting with aerodynamics, thank you very much."
Angelina rolled her eyes. "Just don't listen to them. Come on—you're going to be late."
On the Pitch
The morning sun warmed the vast green expanse of the Quidditch pitch, the dew still clinging to the edges of the turf. Two lines of first-year students—Gryffindor and Slytherin—walked onto the field behind Madam Rolanda Hooch, who carried the unmistakable air of someone who did not tolerate nonsense.
Laid out neatly near the stands were two rows of broomsticks. Some looked brand new, their handles gleaming; others were more battered, as though they'd survived a few crashes too many.
Madam Hooch turned to face them, her spiky grey hair ruffling slightly in the breeze. Her hawk-like yellow eyes swept across the group.
"Stand beside your broomsticks!" she barked, her whistle already dangling from one hand. "No shouting at them, no kicking, and definitely no backtalk. You treat your broom like an old friend. Be firm, but respectful. Got it?"
Several students nodded quickly.
"Right hand over your broom—and say, Up!"
"Up!" the group chorused.
Cael held out his hand with focus. "Up!"
To his delight, the broom snapped into his palm—albeit with a slight wobble. He grinned, exhilarated.
"Not bad," said Katie Bell, hovering nearby. Her broom had leapt into her hand almost instantly. "Looks like you've got some talent."
"Beginner's luck," Cael replied sheepishly.
Not far off, Cassandra Worley stood beside her broom with a scowl. Her golden hair shimmered under the sun, but her usually composed face was creased with frustration. Her broom wasn't cooperating.
"Up!" she repeated, clearly annoyed. The broom rolled lazily to one side.
Cael couldn't help but laugh—just a little.
Cassandra's green eyes snapped to him, her cheeks pinkening. "Oh, shut it," she muttered, trying again. "Up!"
Katie elbowed Cael playfully. "Careful. She's got a wand and a temper."
Eventually, everyone managed to summon their brooms. Madam Hooch began pacing the line, inspecting posture and hand placement.
"Mount properly," she said. "Swing your leg over, grip the handle, and keep your balance. No side-saddle nonsense. This isn't a fashion show."
Once everyone was in position, she raised her whistle. "On my signal—kick off the ground, rise a few feet, then lean forward and come straight down. Don't try anything fancy."
She blew the whistle. Shrieeee!
Cael's heart jumped. He kicked off, his broom responding immediately. For a moment, he hovered mid-air. The wind brushed against his face, crisp and cool. He felt as though he were balancing on a taut wire—thrilling, but also fragile.
Some of the Slytherins had less success. A boy named Graham tilted sharply to one side, yelling as his broom spun him halfway around before dropping him unceremoniously onto the grass.
"Control, people!" Madam Hooch snapped. "Not panic. Balance comes from focus!"
They repeated the ascent and descent several times. Each time, Cael felt more stable, more confident.
"Good," Madam Hooch called. "Next drill—fly through the rings!"
She gestured to a line of golden hoops suspended at various heights across the pitch. "No wobbling, no showboating. Eyes forward, pace steady."
One by one, students began navigating through the rings. Cael leaned forward, heart racing, and darted toward the first hoop. He passed through cleanly. The second was tighter; he had to duck slightly. By the fourth, he was grinning.
"You're doing it!" the System suddenly chimed in his mind. "You're flying! Through rings! You ninja'd that turn!"
Cael chuckled under his breath. "Thanks for the commentary."
Katie zoomed up beside him. "Feeling confident yet?"
He nodded. "Actually… yeah."
"Then let's race. First one to loop the far ring and back wins."
He raised an eyebrow. "And if Madam Hooch sees?"
"We don't go fast. Just quick. Controlled fun."
Cael laughed. "You're trouble. Alright—deal."
They kicked off together. The brooms surged forward, Cael taking the lead briefly, then Katie edging ahead with a tight turn.
"Hey!" he shouted, laughing. "That was cheating!"
"You snooze, you lose!"
Their mini-race ended just as Madam Hooch turned to scold a boy who was flying upside-down. Katie and Cael landed smoothly, panting but grinning.
Madam Hooch blew her whistle again. "Alright—bring the brooms back! Rack them neatly. We'll begin passes and tight turns in the next lesson."
As students dismounted, Cael glanced at the Slytherin side. Even Cassandra, now brushing dirt off her robes, shot him an impressed look—though she quickly turned away when she caught him watching.
"That was incredible," Cael muttered to himself, still riding the high of flight.
The System piped up again. "So… Quidditch soon?"
"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," Cael replied with a smile. "But yeah—I think I like flying."
After class, most students hurried back toward the castle to wash up before lunch. The mood was light, filled with chatter and laughter—though a few students remained blissfully unaware of the importance of basic hygiene.
As Cael followed the others across the field, the broom experience still fresh in his veins, one thought settled firmly in his mind:
Today was very exciting day