firecracker ???

Flying class came at the end of a bright, blustery morning. The grass on the grounds was slick with dew, and the brooms lined up in uneven rows like restless animals waiting to bolt.

Madam Hooch barked orders in a voice sharp as wind. The class clustered together awkwardly, half-thrilled and half-terrified.

Draco, of course, looked smug. He'd been boasting about his flying lessons at home since breakfast. He caught the eye of a few Gryffindors, then glanced toward Elestara as if expecting applause.

She ignored him.

"Up!" Madam Hooch shouted.

The brooms jerked into palms, hovered an inch, or smacked faces.

Elestara's rose at once. Smooth. Controlled.

Draco's did, too.

Harry's hesitated—then rocketed straight into his hand like it belonged there.

Madam Hooch raised her brows but said nothing.

They mounted their brooms, kicked off the ground—hovering several feet in the air before descending again. Some were better than others.

Neville, predictably, lost control.

Elestara saw it unfold with grim inevitability. He shot upward, panicking, flailing as the broom wobbled higher and higher until he was screaming. When he finally slipped off, it was only thanks to the grass that he didn't break more than his wrist.

Madam Hooch ordered them all to stay put and stalked off with Neville.

The moment she was gone, Draco made his move. He plucked the dropped Remembrall from the grass and mounted his broom again.

"Did you see his face?" he said loudly. "Think he'd cry if he knew I had this?"

"Don't," Elestara said mildly, but he was already airborne.

He shot into the air, holding the glass ball high. "Maybe I'll leave it on the roof!"

A shout cut through the group. "Give it here, Malfoy!"

Harry.

She turned, eyebrows raised.

The Gryffindor had already kicked off. No hesitation. He moved through the air like it was nothing—streamlined, instinctive.

Elestara watched with narrowed eyes as he surged upward, faster than Draco, sharper, cleaner. He gained on him easily.

Draco tried to dart away. Harry dove.

The Remembrall shot downward. Harry leaned into the drop, flattened against the broom, and caught it inches from the ground with one hand.

He landed to stunned silence.

Then the Gryffindors cheered.

Elestara didn't clap. She didn't blink. She just turned to her brother, whose ears had gone pink.

"Well," she said, voice dry. "That was graceful."

Draco scowled. "I slipped."

She tilted her head. "Mm."

A beat passed, and she nudged his elbow.

"You alright?"

He blinked at her. "You're not making fun of me?"

"Not yet."

He looked half-suspicious, half-pleased.

"Father says I'm supposed to protect you, you know," he said after a pause.