Chapter 10: Plant Your Feet and Take Flight

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With the end of term drawing near, I couldn't help but feel the restlessness slowly crawl in as the days stretched on, leaving me all the more homesick. The scant few letters Sadie and I exchanged with each other, quite frankly, weren't enough for me and I found myself yearning to see her again, if only to tell her how much I'd missed her. Thankfully, school would come to a brief close for the Christmas holidays soon. After replying to her letter for the week, I looped the roll of parchment around the foot of one of the school owls and rubbed its head affectionately, chuckling as it pushed its round and feathery head into my palm.

"Away with you, Ser Glimfeather!" I thumbed the crown of the owl's head and laughed at the withering look it directed towards me. Ser Glimfeather—I'd taken to naming the owl that for the last two weeks—stared at me unflinchingly.

Startlingly intelligent amber eyes met my own bronze pair. A moment later, Ser Glimfeather burst out of the arch in an explosion of feathers and smattering of wings, leaving a single, tawny feather on the wooden floor beside me. I bent down to pick it up and played with the feather, watching the owl begin its journey. Slowly, it grew smaller, its powerful wings carrying it far away from the castle until it was little more than a inky smudge in the slightly grey sky. Perched atop one of the wooden platforms of the school Owlery, I stared at the mountains in the distance and raked my gaze towards the Forbidden Forest on the west side of the grounds.

Even in the early morning, the forest found some way to remain unnerving. Its tall and gnarly trees cast a looming shadow over the ground beneath them. It stood out, really. The only place on the grounds that didn't seem to be vibrant with life. Instead, the dark—almost blackened—branches stretched outwards. As if they were slowly inching forwards, perhaps one day, to claim all the land on the castle grounds.

The wood above my head creaked, sending grains of sawdust between the cracks in the flooring. I remembered, all of a sudden, that I wasn't the only one in the Owlery, and craned my head to see who else was around. Furrowing slightly, my eyebrows rose in recognition and I called out to the figure descending down the wooden steps.

"Alright, Evans?" I greeted the girl who I'd shared classes with for the past few months.

Her lips curled upwards as she noticed me and the girl bobbed her head. "I'm fine. And I've told you before, call me Lily. Remus' friends are my friends."

She nodded with such finality that I couldn't really refute her without feeling at least a little bit guilty. I blinked and my lips stretched themselves into a wry smile. "Lily it is then."

"Thank you, Cyrus." Lily smiled. It swiftly vanished from her face, her eyes widening. "I've just remembered! We've got to be quick or else we'll be late for Charms! Professor Flitwick said that he'd be getting us started on the Wind, Water, and Fire-making charms today."

Even through her alarm, her excitement showed on her face. Emerald eyes glimmered like jewels in the morning sun.

Nodding slightly, I turned my head. Briefly, my eyes lingered on the mountain range in the distance. A few stray clouds covered the peak, slowly drifting onwards. I inhaled the crisp morning air, its soft caresses slipping past my robes, chilling me somewhat. Finally exhaling, I hopped down from the ledge, my pleasantly tired muscles flaring slightly— but in a comfortable way. "Better get a move on then, eh?"

I snatched my bag off the floor and brushed the sawdust from it. Once I was satisfied that no more lingered on it, I slung the satchel across my shoulder and opened the door, following the redhead out of the Owlery.

OOOO

Flitwick's classroom was completely different today. Once Lily and I had arrived, we walked in and noticed that the rest of the class stood at the front of the room, their belongings and the like still on their persons. We'd arrived midway through Flitwick greeting that class, thankfully.

"... morning to you all—" he was saying, though he paused to glance at the door. "Miss Evans!" he smiled, his eyes moving over to me and capturing my own. They glowed warmly, and he gave me an equally enthusiastic greeting. "And Mr. Azar, my assistant!" a short round of laughter bubbled from the class at this.

I smiled back at him, taking the joke in stride— it wasn't completely unfounded. I'd taken to helping out struggling classmates where I could, something the diminutive duelling champion appreciated very much. For all his nimbleness, he couldn't be everywhere nor help everyone at once.

"Join the line you two, we'll be out in a moment. As I was saying, good morning students! Today is the day that I'm sure you have all been waiting for." he paused, basking in the suspense until it grew to almost be too much. "As I said a few lessons ago, you will be learning a few charms that I would be remiss in my duties if I didn't teach you. This will be taking us up to the end of term to make sure you learn these charms safely and are as proficient as can be in preparation for the practice exams after Christmas."

A few students groaned out at that, but they were in the minority— Cadmus being one of them. And though our class was filled with stereotypical "hard workers" in the form of the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw houses. One house worked hard to prove that they were more than just average. The other worked for the pursuit of knowledge and knowledge alone— though I assumed the bragging rights due to being perceived as smart sure didn't hurt.

Still, I didn't expect everyone to embody these views. Just as not all Gryffindors are brave and honourable nor every Slytherin cunning or ambitious, not every Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw would embody all of the house values— only enough for the hat to consider placing them there.

Flitwick rolled his eyes. "Yes, yes, I know exams, woe is me!" I snickered and he winked at me. "These exams are for us professors to accurately gauge what the general skill level of your cohort is and how we can help you moving forward in preparation for the final exams at the end of the academic year. Nothing more."

It made sense, I thought. After sitting through one education system, I realised that it was the most efficient way to teach a large number of students. But I guessed that I wouldn't be saying the same thing were I as old mentally as I was physically.

"Now then. Follow me and we'll move over to a more spacious classroom that Professor McGonagall and I use for the slightly more… risky lessons, if you will."

A trickle of nervousness seeped into me at that. Sure I'd practised some spells, but nothing that could go horribly wrong and potentially mess me up. Especially not when I was in the Room of Requirement— a good five or so floors above the Hospital Wing.

Flitwick must have noticed, because he quickly rushed to amend his sentence. "Do realise that by "risky", I mean spells that have a far more direct chance at causing harm as opposed to, say, the Levitation Charm. Hence why we will shortly move to a larger classroom on the ground floor suited for exactly that. Follow me." he hopped off the podium and led us out of the class.

On the way out, I hung back to wait for a few of my housemates and Remus. The line shuffled out of the class and soon, they came into view. After Halloween, most of my house had branched off, becoming friends with people of all houses and I rarely interacted with them outside of the common room. That left me with the most stubborn of the bunch: Cadmus, Michael, and Ellie.

I was happy for them. It'd be slightly worrying if they were stuck to me throughout the rest of our school years.

Cadmus swaggered along at the front of the group, his eyes dancing with excitement as he slung his arm over my shoulder. "D'you hear that Cyrus? We're going to learn actual magic!"

I stared at the auburn haired boy, not really knowing what to do with him. "Cadmus… we've been learning magic for the last three months now, mate. Are you okay? Do you need to make a quick stop at the Hospital Wing."

Michael plodded over with Remus, Ellie, and Lily and sighed. "It's no use, Cyrus. I think you'd realise that by now. Cadmus just doesn't think like the rest of us."

Lily nodded. "Cadmus is just Cadmus. In fact, he's almost as bad as Stebbins."

I mulled over the statement for a bit before nodding in agreement. "... I think you might be right, Michael. You too, Lily."

Remus and Ellie stood beside Michael, trying their best to not succumb to laughter. Their shoulders shook with effort and their eyes shone. Still, they remained as quiet as they could.

Not that Cadmus seemed to notice. He barked out a short but loud laugh. "'course I don't think like the rest of you. I'm one of a kind!"

I shared a knowing glance with Michael and hid my smile behind the sleeve of my robe. "One of a kind indeed…"

We soon reached a spacious room, though the more apt term for it would be a hall. Straw dummies not too dissimilar to the ones we use in our Defence Against the Dark Arts classes were lined up on either side of the room. We huddled around the centre, circling the Charms Master.

I shifted my weight between my feet, excitement bubbling in my gut.

Flitwick spoke up from the centre of the group. "Now that we have arrived, I'd like to make one thing as clear as can possibly be. Whilst you are, by far, the most well-behaved class of your cohort, you must all," he stared pointedly at both Stebbins and Cadmus. Both boys had the decency to flush slightly. "Follow each and every one of my instructions whilst we are here. If not, I am perfectly happy to remove House Points for those who don't."

The class mumbled in agreement and we soon dispersed around the room, each standing before a dummy. On the chest of each dummy, a bright red circle had been drawn— a target possibly? In a single smooth movement, I unsheathed my wand and spread my feet slightly, making sure to keep my wand hand in front of me.

Even from as far away as he was, Flitwick's voice rang out from the hall, strong and true, the tip of his wand held against his throat. "Do not fear, this won't be our only session here. We have practised the wand movements and incantations for each spell and every student in this room is capable of casting these spells successfully— of that I am sure, or else why would we be here? Remember: in-SEN-dee-o, AH-gwah-MEN-tee, and lastly VEN-tuss. Stress the right syllables but do not overthink it. I believe in the abilities of each and every one of you. First, have a go at the fire-making charm until I say otherwise."

I guess that was one way of motivating the class. Any lingering worries felt as if they'd been shrugged off and the hall filled with whispers and scuttling. Slowly relaxing, I eased my wrist through the wand movement for the fire-making charm over and over again until I didn't have to focus quite so much on it anymore.

Next came the incantation. I stilled my hand for a moment and felt the feel of the word in my mouth. Slowly but surely, the word began to flow off my tongue. "In-sen-dee-o… no, it's in-SEN-dee-o…"

Months later, I was sure I'd look back on this moment and laugh but I made sure to take each minute detail completely seriously, ensuring that I had everything down pat before I started casting anything else. I raised my arm, training my wand on the centre of the dummy.

"Alright…" steadily, I etched my intention into the air with every trace of my wand, imagining a jet of flame rushing forth. Then, I spoke. "Incendio."

If I were to be brutally honest, I'd expected to fail— multiple times, really. But what I didn't expect was to succeed. Staring at the scorch mark at the centre of the dummy—right on target—I was overcome by something I couldn't quite describe.

It felt as if all my hard work over the last few months had finally paid off. Like a thousand needles pricking the centre of my chest, warmth spreading across my body and up to my cheeks. I felt my lips stretched into a wide grin and a lilting laugh bubbled from my stomach. "I did it!"

Honestly, I don't think I'd ever expressed such elation at something before. I'd been excited before— sure. But never like this. Perhaps it was the feeling of success… but it also could've been because I was a child again. Regardless, it wasn't important. Not anymore. What was though, was the undeniable fact that there were more spells to practice.

Off the back of that, I heard Flitwick's exasperated exclamations. "Stebbins! McCallan! What did I just tell you two about behaving?!"

I turned back and watched Flitwick stomp over to the two boys, who for some reason, thought it was a good idea to take dummies that were right next to each other. My eyes lingered, amused, as Flitwick chastised the two boys.

And so, my success and subsequent distraction aside, I squared my shoulders and readied myself to go again. I took a few moments to get back into the zone, doing my best to psych myself up.

"Let's try and do that, say… ten more times."

OOOO

Stood in the middle of the Quidditch pitch, one of the school's well-used brooms nestled between my thighs, I shivered slightly. The weather seemed to plummet as the day went on. No more was the sky a lovely shade of blue. Instead, angry grey clouds dragged across, bringing with them chilling winds.

The entirety of my year was gathered here. Around fifty children clumped on the pitch, all of them shivering in the cold.

Madam Hooch stood a little ahead of us, paying little mind to our suffering. Her hawk-like eyes bored into us with frightening intensity. "This is it, ladies and gentlemen! Everything you have learnt for the last four or so months comes to a head here. If you pass, that is it. This lesson block will function as a free period for the remainder of the year. But if you fail…" she let the threat hang in the air. "... then you will have to attend remedial classes until I deem your flying to be competent enough."

I looked out onto the Quidditch pitch. It was devoid of the usual house teams practising their drills and motions— a sight I'd grown used to over the term. And whilst I never found much interest in Quidditch—on account of it being fucking stupid—I still found genuine joy in watching my house team play. Perhaps it was being a part of something that made it like that.

Personally, just being able to fly from time to time was enough for me.

The obstacle course was pretty much a few hoops floating around the grounds. Some were quite easy to reach. Others required slightly more complex manoeuvring that we'd covered only weeks prior. Truth be told, I was pretty apprehensive at trying my hand at the course. A few of the hoops looked downright dangerous to try and reach.

Like the one that was wedged dangerously between the tip of a spire and a section of wall, for instance. But far be it from me to judge the expert instruction of my professor. No, I would never.

Madam Hooch called up the Gryffindors and they were pretty happy to do so. James Potter volunteered to go first, as he always did in our lessons. It'd become painfully obvious to me—and anyone with half a brain—that Madam Hooch favoured Potter out of everyone in our class. Which was to say, our entire year. I couldn't deny that he was talented, though.

I watched him roll his shoulders back, muttering something under his breath. James Potter was, I think, the only student who came to Flying Classes outfitted in actual training gear. At first, nearly everyone had laughed when they spotted him joining the line, outfitted like a professional Quidditch player. But in time, we all found out that Quidditch was something that he took extremely seriously.

And his dedication to it was something that I could respect— even if the sport's scoring system was absolute horseshit.

His trademark rounded glasses had been discarded, replaced with goggles. Brown gloves made of some sort of leather wrapped themselves around the broom, straining as he gripped the shaft tightly. Potter slowly lifted his legs off the grass and the broom raised him into the air before he pulled it upwards and sped towards the first hoop.

As expected, he cleared it with ease, turning as he did so. He briefly stopped, hovering in the air as he searched for the second.

"Bloody hell…" I muttered. "The kid can fly, huh."

Ellie turned to me. "Did you say something, Cyrus?"

I blinked, not really expecting anyone to have heard me. "Oh, I was just wondering what he did to get so good."

"Nearly every wizard child grows up playing Quidditch." Ellie explained. "Michael, Cadmus, and I all grew up in Portree and mucked about on brooms all the time. But him? I guess he's just talented at it."

I nodded. It made sense, now, why most of the class were better than me at riding brooms. It felt odd, that was for sure, to ace classes, and then sit there and watch as hordes of children run circles—fly, to be precise—around me.

The absurdly long line of students of all houses shuffled on as individual students took to the skies, darting around. It was a relatively peaceful lesson for the most part, though a Hufflepuff girl had taken a nasty fall after the tail end of her broom snagged the top of one of the castle's spires.

"Can you move it, Haywood?" Hooch was crouched beside the downed girl.

She whimpered, her face flushed. Tears stained her face but she managed to reply. "N-No, professor."

Hooch stood up, and levitated the girl above our heads. She stared at us before she eventually spoke. "Not a single person moves from where they are standing. If I find out that anyone has been using their brooms in my absence, the consequences will be severe— I promise you that."

Once the Flight Professor had entered the building, furious whispers broke out across the field.

"Is she okay?"

"Did you see?"

"I know! The back of her broom…"

Though one voice cut through the cacophony. A voice that I, unfortunately, was pretty familiar with. Arthur Mulciber, a boy who for all intents and purposes, embodied everything wrong with the Slytherin House.

"So you think you know more than me, eh?" he laughed.

In front of him stood a girl. Black pigtails falling over her shoulders. Her arms were crossed over her Gryffindor robes and her coffee-brown eyes annoyed. "No. I just said that it was her broom that caught the end of the spire. It was an easy mistake to make, especially since she was looking ahead."

Mulciber stopped laughing. "Is that so? Well, I don't remember asking for the opinion of a…" he gave her a once over and sneered. "... Mudblood."

I clenched my jaw, but stood still, waiting to see what the girl would do. Active justice was something I firmly believed in. If a person was able to enact proper retribution for themselves, then it was their right to do so. Only when they were unable to should somebody step in. And so I waited, hand on hip. The pommel of my wand pushed into the centre of my palm, almost comforting. As if it were reassuring me that it would be there when I needed it.

I watched on, staring intently at the pair.

All other conversation ceased and the field was completely silent, staring at the two. Confusion flickered across the girl's face. She tilted her head and her face twisted into a frown. "Did you just… insult me?"

Mulciber laughed again, bumping another Slytherin with his elbow. "Oh Morgana! Mudbloods really are stupid!"

That settled it for me. I smothered my rage— Mulciber was many things. Unfortunately, 'child' was one of them. It was more than obvious to me that the girl was a Muggleborn, meaning that she had absolutely no idea what Mulciber had just called her.

One twitch of my hand and my wand was ready. More annoyed than anything else now, I whipped my arm and sent a… moderate Stinging Hex towards him. I returned my wand to its holster and watched as the spell smacked him across the face, sending him to the floor.

I might have overpowered it a little, but nothing the little gobshite didn't deserve. Snickers exploded as the boy tumbled into the dirt, landing unceremoniously on his arse. He stumbled to his feet, gingerly rubbing his cheek where a welt was quickly forming. Anger clouding over his eyes, they roamed over the field, searching for the source of the spell. The Slytherin beside him pulled him by the shoulder and whispered in his ear.

His eyes snapped to mine, and he stalked forward. "You!"

I quirked an eyebrow. "What about me, Mulciber?"

"Do you know what you've done?!" he stood only a little ways away from me. "I'll make you regret ever coming to Hogwarts!"

"Really now, Mulciber? That welt on your face seems to tell another story." I placed my hand on my hip, gripping the handle of my wand. My eyes quickly lost all humour and I frowned at him. "Now do the smart thing and walk away."

His eyes dropped from my face, to my wand, and then rose again. Fury blazed in his eyes, but we both knew that were he to start a fight here, I'd win. It sounded cocky, but he shared Defence Against the Dark Arts with me and knew exactly what the both of us could do with a wand.

That was ignoring the very obvious consequence of punishment. It seemed, though, that fate had other plans. Madam Hooch had returned just after I'd given Mulciber the only warning he'd have the pleasure of receiving from me. She stared at the welt on his face and turned to me. "What happened here?"

It was then that I was struck with sudden inspiration. Grinning, I threw my arm around the Slytherin. My action was so unexpected that he froze. "Nothing, professor! Arthur here took a tumble is all. I was helping him up, right?"

Outside, my face was a mask of pure friendliness, but on the inside, I was doing my best to keep a tight hold over my growing mirth. Mulciber gave me a look I couldn't quite decipher— both angry yet also… evaluative?

He turned to Hooch, doing his best to keep his voice calm. "Exactly. C-Cyrus here was helping me."

The woman eyed me strangely but shrugged, calling up the next person to try their hand at the obstacle course. I quickly removed my arm from the boy, and smiled at the seething look he sent my way. He made it a point to stay as far away from me as possible, sending hateful glares my way when he thought I wasn't looking.

Once he was far enough, I let out the laugh I'd been holding in for so long. Fucking hell, that was hilarious.

The shuffling of grass alerted me and I looked up, wiping tears from my eyes. "Yes?"

The pigtailed girl from earlier smiled at me. "Thanks for the help," she looked over to Mulciber and furrowed her brow. "My friends just told me what… Mudblood means."

Ah, that would do it. I merely nodded. "No worries. I'm a Muggleborn too, you know? I could tell you had no idea what he was calling you so I decided to help." I stuck out my hand. "Cyrus Azar. You?"

She accepted my hand. "Mary Macdonald."

"Nice to meet you, Mary." I said.

She smiled once more and wandered back to her friends. Alone once more, the reality of the situation had finally hit me like a truck and I suppressed a groan. My plans of a peaceful school life were null and void now. Mulciber was the type of person who wouldn't give up until he'd paid back what I'd dealt to him today… tenfold.

But for the time being, I'd revel in the hilarity of what I'd just done. It was a long time coming too. My annoyance towards him had been growing ever since our first Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson. A little while later, my friends swarmed me towards the front of the line. Most of them were worried, but then we had Cadmus.

"Merlin!" he laughed. "I definitely didn't expect you to hex him!"

He was in complete hysterics, clutching his belly as he laughed. The rest of them, although reasonably worried, also had smiles on their faces— all of them except for Ellie.

"Come on, Ellie," I sighed. "Don't look at me like that. It was a long time coming and you know it!"

The girl huffed, a rare frown on her face.

"Exactly, Ellie," Remus chipped in and turned to Lily. "You know exactly how Mulciber is in Herbology. He's insufferable!"

Even Lily, somebody who was perhaps the greatest stickler for the rules that I knew, was nodding. "Besides, Cyrus is definitely the best wizard in our year. Mulciber can't do anything to him."

Eventually, the short brunette caved. "Fine. It was funny, but be careful, Cyrus."

As flattered as I was that they held such confidence in me, I knew there were a lot of things Mulciber could do to hurt me outside of class. Especially since he was a pureblood and I was a muggleborn.

Which brought me back to another problem: money. I'd had my fun at school, cemented myself as the smartest wizard of my age, and served justice to a bellend of a child. Sure I'd enjoy my Christmas, but after that, I reckoned it was time to consider all of my options.

Overhead, another student whizzed about—a Hufflepuff I realised—clearing hoop after hoop as our house cheered her on. I smiled to myself, taking in the sight of my friends and then the student racing up above. I guess I really was a Hufflepuff through and through.

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