Chapter 129: The Magic Version of the Thousand-pound Pendant
At one o'clock in the afternoon, on the flat lawn outside Hogwarts, a group of young wizards stood beside their broomsticks.
Unlike the anxious Hufflepuff students, most of the Ravenclaw first-years were full of confidence. In their minds, they had already watched Quidditch Through the Ages in advance, and some had even attended public lectures given by professional Quidditch players. Flying? It should be a piece of cake.
Madam Hooch, their flying instructor, was a no-nonsense witch. She didn't bother calling out names. The moment she arrived, class began without delay, giving no room for nervous hesitation.
"Put your right hand over your broom and say, Up!" Madam Hooch barked.
"Up!" everyone shouted.
Alexander Smith's broom leapt immediately into his hand, smooth and responsive. Only a handful of brooms were that obedient. Harry's broom was one of them, as was Ernie Macmillan's from Hufflepuff—a big, slightly arrogant, but undeniably diligent boy.
One could tell how hard Ernie worked from an earlier conversation before Potions class.
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"How many hours do you revise a day?" he had asked Harry and Ron, his eyes anxious.
"I dunno," Ron replied. "A few?"
"More or less than eight?"
"I think less," Ron said cautiously.
"I do eight, minimum," Ernie had said, puffing out his chest. "Eight to nine hours on average. I study an hour before breakfast every day. On weekends, I go up to ten. This Tuesday was rough—only managed seven and a quarter. Wednesday was better—"
The rambling had ended only when Professor Snape stormed into the room.
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Magical items like broomsticks, much like animals, responded to the wizard's state of mind. Even though Harry was a bit uncertain, deep down he had confidence. When he was very young, before Voldemort's attack, he had flown on a toy broomstick with ease. Though he couldn't remember it, his instincts did.
Ernie's success wasn't surprising either. In the original timeline, he had gone on to become a prefect. He had a strong sense of pride and ability.
Anthony Goldstein, who would have been Ravenclaw's prefect, seemed to have his confidence shaken by Harry's presence. His broom only rose slightly, almost making it into his hand before dropping again. Ron, Neville, and several others experienced similar partial successes.
Hermione's broom merely rolled along the ground. This visibly frustrated her—it was the one class she couldn't master through reading.
And, just like in the original timeline, two students failed entirely: Dudley Dursley and Wayne Hopkins. Hopkins was one of the original forty students J.K. Rowling once listed in early drafts, though he never appeared in Harry's perspective. Alexander watched him with mild curiosity but saw nothing unusual.
Madam Hooch began moving through the rows, correcting their grip and posture. Interestingly, students from wizarding families made more mistakes, having used toy broomsticks at home and picked up bad habits.
Ron's grip, however, was excellent—no doubt a result of growing up in a family where his brother Charlie had been a Quidditch star. Madam Hooch barely glanced at him.
Harry, naturally gifted, held his broom with perfect form without even realizing it.
Surprisingly, Dudley also held his broom correctly. Possibly because of the years he'd spent whacking Harry with a Smeltings cane.
After about thirty minutes, all the students had their posture and grip corrected.
"Now, when I blow the whistle," Madam Hooch instructed, "you'll kick off hard from the ground, rise a few feet, hold steady, then lean forward slightly and come straight back down. Wait for the whistle—three… two…"
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Almost everyone lifted into the air—except Dudley.
Despite having the magical strength of an adult wizard—likely due to Lily's spell—his internal fear, disbelief, and rejection of magic kept him grounded. From Alexander's perspective, it was as though Dudley's negative emotions were actively interfering.
The broom absorbed his magical energy and tried to rise. But Dudley's internal rejection of flight created an odd force, a kind of magical magnetic repulsion, pinning him to the ground.
Then—crack!
The broom snapped in half under the tension. Dudley fell with a thud onto the grass. Everyone stared in shock. Even Harry gave a quiet, uncomfortable sigh.
Alexander blinked. Merlin… he's doing a magical version of the Thousand-pound Pendant! His center of gravity's unshakable. At this rate, he's not going to be a wizard—he's going to be a Buddhist monk!
"In all my years of teaching," Madam Hooch said in disbelief, "I have never seen a first-year break a broom! What's your name?"
"D-Dudley Dursley," Dudley mumbled, trying in vain to make himself smaller.
Madam Hooch clearly repeated the name silently a few times, making sure to remember it.
"All right. Broomsticks are delicate magical instruments. Restoring them improperly could cause backlash. I'll fetch a replacement from the broom shed. Everyone else, place your brooms back on the ground. Do not mess with them. If I come back and catch anyone flying without permission, you'll be losing House points faster than you can say 'Seeker.'"
She swept away toward the main castle doors.
A long silence followed.
Then Michael Corner whispered to Anthony Goldstein, "Did you see that? That wasn't magic... That was a supernatural curse."
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