The Black Bloodline of Hogwarts

Julien, standing in the corner, heard his name called, but only slightly raised his eyes without replying. He was indeed hesitant about flying—not out of fear, but out of concern for losing control.

His magic is too sensitive; if he were to experience emotional fluctuations in the air, it could easily lead to an accident. This is why his grandfather required him to wear a Muggle motorcycle helmet when he practiced with him.

Of course, the book "Quidditch for Beginners Who Can't Even Say 'Up' Pronounced" wasn't just for show in Yulian's library. It provided precise guidance during his flying practice.

Of course, Julien didn't notice that the book's title page read: "Dedicated to all the fools who have been thrown down by brooms but still believe in flying."

"When it comes to flying, who can compare to Cedric Diggory of Hufflepuff?" Megan Jones chimed in, her eyes shining with admiration for Cedric. Even Cho Chang nodded slightly in agreement.

Kayson, not to be outdone, shouted, "Just you wait, I'll become the youngest Seeker in Hogwarts history!"

Roger chuckled and shook his head, standing up. "Alright, little dreamers, stop with the empty talk on the carpet. Come talk to me about Quidditch when you can actually draw a circle in the sky without falling down."

He turned and headed for the stairs, then turned back to add, "But... I hope you don't fall into the Black Lake today. Mrs. Pomfrey has a cold and doesn't have time to take care of a bunch of soaking wet little chickens."

Hogwarts' flying training grounds are located on a wide lawn east of the castle, with three golden goalposts of different heights at each end of the field, each topped with a ring. The surrounding Quidditch stands gleam in the sunlight, as if silently beckoning future heroes.

The first-year students from Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff lined up in two rows, their eyes shining and chests puffed out like peacocks. Kayson and Edgar had even arrived half an hour early.

Madam Huoqi appeared precisely on time, riding a 1000-speed light wheel. Her short, silver-gray hair remained perfectly in place in the wind, and her hawk-like yellow eyes swept across the entire scene, a knowing smile playing on her lips.

"Alright, little wizards," she said in a clear voice, "I know your minds are full of 'aerial flips,' 'soaring through the air,' and even 'Lonski feints'... but put those fantasies away for now."

She clapped her hands, and twenty-odd old school brooms bounced gently on the grass, like a herd of impatient old horses, as they approached each young wizard.

"The first step," Mrs. Hodge said, "is to extend your right hand, place it above the broom, and clearly say, 'Come up!'"

"Come on up!"

"Up!"

"Hurry up, you blockhead!"

The lawn was instantly thrown into chaos. Some brooms rolled lazily halfway around, some sprang up and hit their owners on the nose (Justin covered his nose with tears in his eyes), and others simply pretended to be dead.

"Don't rush. This move isn't about showing off. It's like riding a horse. Every rider needs to build a bond with their horse first. The broom jumping into your hand means that it's willing to let you ride it."

Liria stood in front of her broom, her expression focused and gentle.

Instead of giving the order immediately, she crouched down, gently placed her palm on the rough broom handle, and murmured a few words in an ancient northern dialect—the language she often used to soothe the creatures of the forest.

The broom trembled slightly, then slowly rose to the height of her palm and came to a steady stop.

"Wow!" Hannah exclaimed, "Lyria, you did it!"

Liria also gave a faint smile.

Julien's situation was quite different. The brooms used in Hogwarts' flying class were all the older "Sweeping Stars" model. Julien, however, was assigned the oldest and most inconspicuous broom.

However, after he shouted "Come up," the broom suddenly shot up like an arrow and jumped into his hand, almost pulling him away.

After all the young wizards had summoned their brooms, Madam Hooch instructed them to mount their brooms, sit firmly, gently push off the ground with their feet, and slowly lift off, maneuvering the brooms to fly steadily at low altitudes.

At this point, Liria's problem arose.

As soon as her feet left the ground, she felt as if her foundation had been removed; her face turned pale instantly, and her fingers gripped the broom so tightly that her knuckles turned blue.

She could sense the pulse of the earth and converse with ancient trees, but the sky... the sky was a strange, helpless void to her.

“Don’t be afraid, Miss Liria,” Mrs. Hodge approached, her voice gentle. “I already know you. I know the earth is your root, but the sky is not your enemy. Try… to see it as a flowing forest.”

In the original novel and film, Neville's injury makes Mrs. Hodge's teaching skills seem mediocre. In reality, Mrs. Hodge was quite capable and knew how to tailor her teaching to individual students.

Liria nodded at Madam Hooch's words, took a deep breath, and took flight steadily. But she only dared to let the broom lift off the ground a little over a meter high, like a cautious fledgling. In fact, most young wizards were at this level.

On the other side, Kayson's broom obediently took flight—unfortunately, he completely miscontrolled its direction. He intended to do a stylish spin, but the broom suddenly lurched forward, sending him straight into the branches of a nearby willow tree, where he got stuck tightly.

"Help! I've been kidnapped by a tree!" he cried out.

"The tree is just teaching you humility," Edgar gloated from below.

Just as they rescued Kayson from the tree, Julien encountered another problem. He had barely lifted his feet off the ground, and with just a slight pull on the broom head, the broom suddenly accelerated forward!

By the time Madame Hodge noticed, Julien had already rushed far away. "Mr. Black! Slow down!" Madame Hodge shouted, her heart filled with anxiety. Could this be another Neville?

Julien gritted his teeth and tried to pull the broom back, but it had already carried him halfway around the lawn, moving so fast that his shadow was blurred.

Suddenly, a figure on a broom appeared in front of him—it was Padma Petit. Julien slammed on the brakes, but the braking distance was clearly longer than he expected, and he was about to crash into her. Fortunately, Madame Hooch came along on her broom and pulled Padma aside.

Madame Hooch had Julien fly around again, gradually figuring out the trick. She then led Julien to a slightly more open area and produced a ball, about the size of a basketball, from somewhere. She then threw it far away with all her might, saying, "Go after it! Catch it before it falls!"

Julien was incredibly fast, and with a "whoosh," he dashed off. When he thought he had clearly seen the ball's trajectory, he accelerated and sprinted, but by the time he realized what was happening, he was already ten meters ahead of the ball, and could only watch helplessly as it slowly drifted past him.

"Speed ​​is a gift," Mrs. Hooch said, patting him on the shoulder as he finally came to a stop (actually, he crashed into a haystack next to the pitch), her eyes filled with undisguised approval. "But Quidditch isn't about speed. You need to learn... control. To synchronize your movements with your intentions, instead of being pushed along by magic."

Julien nodded, panting, his face covered in haystacks, but he couldn't help but smile. He roughly understood the problem, and a book called "On the Fine Control of Flight - The Inspiration of Haystacks" came to mind, along with specific training methods.