Harry Potter: Magic and Guns

Support me and be 20 chapters ahead of webnovel:

patreon.com/Draco_

*****

At 3:30 in the afternoon, Harry and the other Hufflepuff students hurried down the stairs to the grounds in front of the Hogwarts castle for their first flying lesson. The young wizards were already buzzing with excitement, almost ready to burst. Somehow, news had spread that Harry had brought a Nimbus 2000 to school, and now he was the center of attention.

"We swear we didn't let it slip," Rolf, Neville, and Justin insisted firmly. They weren't the kind to spill secrets.

"I believe you. But it's fine, really. Sooner or later, everyone would've found out anyway. It's just a matter of time. Even if no one knew, I would've taken it out during the flying lesson today, right?" Harry waved it off casually. He trusted his dorm mates, and in the grand scheme of things, it wasn't that big of a deal. Sure, being surrounded by curious classmates was a bit awkward, but Harry was used to it. With a thick skin from years of extreme sports and being cheered on by hundreds during boxing matches, this didn't faze him at all.

If he got nervous or uncomfortable over something like this, he would've fallen during rock climbing long ago. Many things he had done didn't allow for distractions.

When they reached the field for class, Harry took out his Nimbus 2000 without hesitation. He wasn't going to ride it just yet, though. Many of the young wizards had boasted earlier about flying on their family's broomsticks—nearly hitting Muggle helicopters or airships and claiming they spent most of their eleven-year lives on broomsticks. But such stories were clearly exaggerations. What teenager doesn't like to brag a little?

That said, getting a close-up view and even being able to touch a Nimbus 2000 was a thrill for them. It was an expensive broom, far beyond the reach of most wizards. In the wizarding world, just like in the Muggle world, wealth disparity was striking. A small percentage of wizarding families, which included more than just pure-bloods, held at least half of the magical world's wealth. Another 30% was tied up in large, well-established institutions like Hogwarts. This left the remaining 90% of the population sharing just 20% of the wealth, highlighting the vast divide between the rich and the poor.

The Nimbus 2000 cost 230 Galleons, the equivalent of four or five months' wages for an average wizard who didn't spend a single Knut. It was the ultimate luxury in Quidditch gear.

Soon, a witch with short silver hair and sharp, hawk-like yellow eyes strode toward them. She was wearing a short-sleeved, fitted robe.

"Class is starting," Madam Hooch called out. Her voice was loud and carried far—an ability honed from years of serving as a Quidditch referee, where her voice had to reach across wide stadiums.

"Alright, everyone, stop crowding around. I know the Nimbus 2000 is exciting, but now's not the time for that," she clapped her hands, directing the eager students to line up in front of her. "Now, each of you stand next to a broom. They may be a bit old, but the variety is impressive. Whether it's a Cleansweep or a Comet, or even the rarely-seen Silver Arrow, we've got them all here."

She gestured to the grass beside them, where dozens of different old brooms lay silently. Compared to the sleek Nimbus 2000 hovering gracefully in the air, these brooms were a sorry sight. Most were battered, with chipped tails, loose bristles, and peeling paint, a collection of worn-out relics.

"Don't be fooled by how old they are," Madam Hooch said with a shrug. "Old brooms have their benefits. While some of you may have flown before, most of you haven't properly learned how to safely ride one. And I certainly don't want you flying fifty or a hundred feet up and then freezing in terror, only to fall out of the sky."

"Ever since a few serious accidents decades ago, Hogwarts stopped using new brooms for teaching. It's for your own good. It's better to break an arm or leg falling from ten or twenty feet than to lose your life."

Hearing Madam Hooch's words, the young wizards couldn't help but feel a twinge of fear, some of them realizing for the first time the danger of falling off a broom. A few who were already afraid of heights started to pale visibly.

"I think you all understand now, don't you? So, hurry up and get to your places," Madam Hooch instructed.

"Harry Potter," she called out, turning her attention to Harry. "Professor Sprout mentioned that you've already flown during the holidays and that you did quite well?"

"Yes, Professor. I think I fly very well," Harry replied honestly, nodding his head.

"Is that so? Flying without proper instruction is extremely dangerous. The Nimbus 2000 is a real competition broom, and it's not easy to handle," Madam Hooch said, watching Harry closely as if expecting to see some hint of nervousness, but she found none.

"I've jumped out of planes from altitudes ranging between 3,000 to 7,000 meters. My best rock-climbing record was scaling a 116-meter cliff, about the height of two Hogwarts castles. If I weren't too young, I'd already have learned how to paraglide from Ben Nevis, gliding over Fort William to enjoy the views of Scotland."

"Trust me, Professor, while I may not have had formal lessons, I'll learn quickly. As long as you're willing to teach, I've read extensively about Quidditch and broomstick flying. I love adventure and extreme sports, but I don't enjoy reckless danger."

Madam Hooch blinked, momentarily caught off guard by Harry's response. While she wasn't familiar with the Muggle extreme sports Harry was talking about, the numbers he mentioned were certainly impressive.

"Well then, grab your Nimbus 2000 and pay close attention to my instructions. The basics are always the most important, even something as simple as your posture—it determines whether you can stay in the air or not."

She gave a slight nod of approval, just as an older student hurried over and stood next to her. The unfamiliar boy smiled at Harry before his gaze landed on the Nimbus 2000.

"Now, everyone, extend your right hand over your broom," Madam Hooch continued, wasting no time as the lesson officially began. She was all business, knowing that practical experience was often the best teacher.

"And then say 'Up!' loudly, so your broom knows you're ready to ride it!"

"Come on, hurry up!" she urged, her voice crisp and commanding.

(End of Chapter)