[HOGWARTS CASTLE – FLYING GROUNDS – COLD MORNING]
The wind blew hard over the green fields of Hogwarts, carrying with it the fresh scent of morning and the nervousness of twenty-four first-year students. The teacher was a tall woman with gray hair tied into a strict bun, wearing a dark robe with golden details: Madam Hooch.
"Line up next to your brooms !" her voice sliced through the air like a blade. "When I say 'Now', extend your right hand over the broom and say: Up !"
Aurelius, always calm, already knew the protocol — he had read every book about Hogwarts he could find in his grandfather's library. But nothing could replace the real moment. He looked at the broom almost fondly, and extended his hand.
Beside him, Lucian took a deep breath, his green eyes alert and vibrant. Lucian had never ridden a broom before. But the ancient blood flowing through his veins seemed to react to the magic in the air.
"Up !" they both said, almost at the same time.
With a dry sound of wood cutting through the air, both brooms shot up from the ground as if pulled by invisible strings. Aurelius grabbed his firmly, but effortlessly. Lucian caught his with both hands, as if the broom had come to him of its own will.
Some students looked impressed. Others, jealous.
Madam Hooch raised an eyebrow. "Hmm... very good."
"Interesting," murmured a teacher watching from afar, hidden among the columns of the east tower.
Aurelius mounted his broom lightly. It looked more like a habitual gesture than something he had just learned. While the others struggled to balance, screaming in fear or letting out nervous laughs, he leaned forward slightly. The broom responded like an extension of his body.
In an instant, he was in the air.
He rose with elegance, traced a gentle arc across the sky, and then began descending in a controlled spiral. At one point, to the collective astonishment, he let go with one hand and stood on the broom — like a surfer riding waves in the sky.
' It's a bit different than flying with Saphira, but it's still pretty fun. ' He thought with a smile.
The students held their breath.
Lucian, not wanting to be left behind, pushed off more cautiously and lifted off as well, now flying steadily with a determined gaze, though a bit more stiffly.
Aurelius, now spinning in the air as if dancing with the wind, smiled. The sun reflected off his red hair as if he were made of fire and courage.
Madam Hooch seemed torn between scolding and clapping.
"Get down right now, Mr. Gryffindor !" she shouted, trying to hide her surprise.
But it was too late: Aurelius completed his maneuver with a final spin, landing in one smooth motion like a feather.
Lucian landed right after, a bit less fluid, but still graceful. The two exchanged a glance. There was no rivalry between them — just friendly competition.
"Merlin help us..." muttered Hooch, rubbing her forehead. "I've never seen anything like this since..." she trailed off. Not even in the golden years of James Potter.
The students surrounded the two, bombarding them with questions.
"Did you already know how to fly ?"
"Where did you learn that ?"
"Do you train with professional players ?"
Aurelius just smiled. Part of him wanted to tell everything — about the training fields next to the manor, the balance lessons, of the flights with Saphira
But he simply said,
"I guess I just got lucky."
Lucian crossed his arms and added with a smirk,
"If that's luck, the rest of us are screwed."
Some laughed. Others nodded.
The sky was still tinged a deep blue as Aurelius and Lucian walked through the quiet courtyard, their footsteps echoing softly on the time-worn stones. It was too early for the other classes, but they had gotten into the habit of exploring Hogwarts whenever they could. A moment just for them — away from glances, away from gossip.
Lucian walked with his hands in his pockets, expression thoughtful. Aurelius beside him was flipping through a small magical notebook, scribbled with diagrams of runes and transfiguration spells.
"This part of the castle always feels… older than the rest," Lucian murmured, looking at the columns shrouded in low fog.
Aurelius didn't answer immediately. He simply looked up, frowning. Something was bothering him. And then, the morning calm was torn apart by a sharp, hate-filled scream:
"YOU FILTHY MUDBLOOD !"
They both froze.
Lucian's eyes widened.
"That came from the side courtyard." Aurelius was already running.
Lucian followed without hesitation.
Rounding the corner felt like stepping into another world. The air, once fresh and quiet, now crackled with tension. In the center of the courtyard, Mavis — the Hufflepuff girl he'd met in Transfiguration class — was cornered against the stone wall. Her robes were dirty with soil, hair undone, breathing ragged.
Four older students surrounded her. All Slytherins. And in front of them, with a sneer and furious eyes, stood Marcus Flint.
Mavis's wand was in one of the boys' hands.
"You lot think you can just come to Hogwarts and blend in with us ?!" Marcus spat, his voice dripping with venom.
Mavis tried to snatch her wand from one of the boys, but he shoved her hard.
Aurelius had stopped running. He was watching the scene with hardened eyes, as if something inside him was slowly breaking. Lucian stood just behind him, frozen — not by fear, but by rage.
"Going to cry, mudblood ?" mocked another boy, laughing loudly.
Mavis's response didn't come in words.
She clenched her fist and punched Flint straight in the face.
The sound of the impact echoed through the courtyard. A sharp crack, followed by a cry of pain. Flint's nose began bleeding heavily.
He stumbled back, shocked — not just by the pain, but by the fact someone dared to fight back.
"YOU'LL PAY FOR THAT !"
That's when two voices rang out in unison, clear as steel:
[Petrificus Totalus !]
[Stupefy !]
Chaos erupted.
Two of the attackers dropped like stones. A third was slammed into the ground by a red blast, unconscious on impact. The last tried to run, but Lucian hit him without hesitation with another stunning spell.
Marcus Flint was still staggering, his face covered in blood and fury. His eyes locked onto Lucian's — and something deeper than hate sparked there.
"You…" he growled through clenched teeth. "You were one of us… but you chose the traitors."
Aurelius stepped between Mavis and Flint, his golden eyes burning.
Lucian took a step forward, wand still raised.
"You might want to check your nose, Flint. It's dripping on your robes."
Marcus spat on the ground — blood and rage mixed.
"This isn't over." And then he ran, dragging one of the petrified boys with him.
Silence.
Mavis was breathing hard, looking at the two like she couldn't decide whether to cry or say thank you. Aurelius approached slowly, extended his hand, and she took it.
"It's okay now…" he said with a calmness that contradicted the fire still burning beneath his skin.
Lucian picked her wand off the ground, cleaned the dust from it, and handed it back carefully.
"Sorry we didn't get here sooner."
She shook her head.
"Thanks. Without my wand it's kind of hard to defend myself."
Aurelius looked at Lucian. And for a moment, they both understood something without needing to speak: in that empty courtyard, with the fog still blanketing the ground and the scent of fresh blood in the air...
Things needed to change.