Harry Potter's : Fantastic Beasts Guide

"Up!" Madam Hooch's sharp command echoed across the training field.

David focused on the broomstick lying before him, extending his hand over it. The broom leaped obediently into his palm on the first try. He smiled, satisfied, but couldn't help noticing the varying success among his classmates.

Ron, for example, had a rather different experience. His broom smacked him square in the nose before reluctantly floating into his hand. Neville's broom, on the other hand, seemed intent on rolling away, forcing him to chase after it until it finally jumped up with a pathetic wobble.

Madam Hooch paced up and down the line, her keen yellow eyes scrutinizing everyone's form. "Grip the broom firmly with your dominant hand! This hand will guide your direction during flight. Mount the broom and place your non-dominant hand behind the other. Keep your grip tight and steady!"

She paused beside Neville, adjusting his trembling hands. "Relax, Mr. Longbottom. You're gripping it like it's a lifeline. Loosen up or you'll never steer properly."

"Malfoy!" she barked a moment later, "Your hands are too close together. Spread them out—yes, that's it. Keep it there."

After circling the group, Madam Hooch stood back. "Now, listen carefully. When I blow the whistle, you will kick off hard from the ground, hover for a moment, and then come back down. Understood?"

David adjusted his grip and braced himself. He could feel his heart pounding in anticipation. But just as Madam Hooch raised her whistle to her lips, a scream pierced the air.

David spun around. Neville had kicked off too early. His broom shot into the sky like a rocket, carrying him higher and higher in an uncontrollable spiral.

"Come back down, Neville!" Madam Hooch shouted, cupping her hands around her mouth. "Press down with your front hand to descend!"

Neville, however, was too panicked to listen. His terrified screams echoed as his broom swayed erratically, climbing higher and higher until it seemed to have a mind of its own.

The students gasped collectively when Neville's robes snagged on the spear of a decorative statue protruding from the castle wall. He dangled precariously, the broom hovering nearby as if mocking him.

"Stay still, Neville!" David called, mounting his own broom. He prepared to fly up and help, but Neville, too frightened to stay calm, wriggled and twisted in desperation. His robes tore under the strain, and with a gut-wrenching cry, Neville began plummeting to the ground.

"Wingardium Leviosa!" David yelled, his wand out in a flash. The spell slowed Neville's descent just enough to prevent serious injury, but he still landed with a painful thud, clutching his wrist.

Madam Hooch rushed to Neville's side, shooing the other students away. "It's a minor sprain," she announced after a quick inspection. "Still, I'll take him to the hospital wing. The rest of you—stay put! If I catch anyone flying while I'm gone, you'll answer to Professor Dumbledore himself!"

The moment Madam Hooch disappeared with Neville, a familiar, taunting voice broke the silence.

"Look what I've got!" Malfoy sneered, holding up a shimmering glass ball. It glowed faintly red in the sunlight. "A Rememberball! The big oaf's grandma sent it to him—probably to remind him not to fall off his broom."

"Give it back, Malfoy!" Harry demanded, stepping forward.

Malfoy smirked. "Want it? Come and get it." He mounted his broom, rising effortlessly into the air. "I think I'll put it on the top of the tower. Let's see if the oaf has the guts to retrieve it!"

"Don't, Harry!" Hermione hissed. "You'll be expelled!"

But Harry ignored her. He grabbed the nearest broom and launched himself after Malfoy, determination blazing in his eyes.

Malfoy soared higher, laughing mockingly. "Catch me if you can, Potter!" He shot upwards, forcing Harry to chase after him. The two boys darted through the sky, weaving between towers as the rest of the students watched, enthralled.

As Malfoy turned sharply to avoid Harry's approach, David couldn't help but marvel at Harry's flying. His reflexes were sharp, his movements precise. Harry was a natural-born Seeker, no doubt about it.

Then, with a mischievous glint in his eye, Malfoy hurled the Rememberball toward the castle wall. "Catch that, Potter!" he jeered.

Harry didn't hesitate. He leaned forward, accelerating toward the glass ball as it plummeted. The wind roared in his ears, and the wall loomed closer with every second.

"Harry, pull up!" Hermione screamed from below.

David acted quickly, his wand in hand. Amplifying his voice, he shouted, "Harry! Do a Wronski Feint!"

Harry didn't look back, but he nodded, clearly recognizing the move Ron had once described. With a burst of speed, Harry dove straight toward the Rememberball. Just as the glass ball was about to hit the wall, he twisted sharply, pulling up at the last second. The broom spun gracefully in mid-air, and Harry came to a halt, holding the Rememberball triumphantly.

The students erupted in cheers.

"Brilliant, Harry!" David shouted, clapping loudly. "A perfect Wronski Feint!"

Hermione, however, looked furious. "David! That was reckless! What if Harry had crashed?"

"It's fine, Hermione," David said with a grin, lowering his wand. "Harry had it under control. And besides..." He glanced toward the castle window, where a familiar figure in green robes had been watching. "I think someone else was impressed, too."