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Rolanda Hooch was a woman with eagle-sharp eyes. Her neat, short hair and golden pupils gave her a stern, no-nonsense appearance. As the flying instructor at Hogwarts and the referee for Quidditch matches, her reputation preceded her.

"Good afternoon, students!" she called.

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Hooch!" the students chorused back.

Mrs. Hooch swiftly made her way through the groups of Slytherins and Gryffindors assembled on the lawn.

"The first flying lesson begins now," she said, briskly. "What are you waiting for? Everyone, stand to the left of your broomsticks! Quickly now!"

Most of the first-year students were seeing broomsticks up close for the first time. They obediently lined up as instructed, standing to the left of their brooms. However, Dyroth couldn't help but wonder why flying lessons were still a must.

Back in the old days, it made sense when magical transport was limited. But now? There were magic buses, and even elevators in the Ministry of Magic. Why did anyone still need to fly around on a broomstick?

Despite his internal complaints, Dyroth knew he couldn't convince the school to change its system. He stood with the others, resigned to his fate, while Mrs. Hooch continued her instructions.

"Place your hand over your broom and say, 'Up!'"

"Up!" echoed through the field.

Harry was the first to successfully summon his broom with ease, the handle leaping straight into his palm. Draco Malfoy followed shortly after, showing his own natural aptitude.

Dyroth, however, quickly discovered something troubling.

When it came to talent points, it seemed that flying wasn't in his cards. No matter how loudly he yelled, the broom beneath him didn't budge. His voice was starting to go hoarse, and yet nothing happened.

Around him, classmates were already standing with brooms in hand, while his own stayed stubbornly on the ground. The realization hit them— Dyroth might just be the first Hogwarts student in history who couldn't ride a broomstick.

But surprisingly, Dyroth wasn't upset. On the contrary, he saw this as an opportunity. He could use this as an excuse to skip future flying lessons and spend more time in the library.

"Mr. Grindelwald..." Mrs. Hooch's voice broke through his thoughts, sounding both concerned and puzzled.

"As you can see, Mrs. Hooch," Dyroth shrugged, raising his hands in surrender. "I don't think I have any talent for flying."

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"Poor child!" Mrs. Hooch sighed sympathetically, patting him on the head. "Don't worry too much. You're not the first to have difficulty with flying. Why don't you rest on the lawn for now? I'll discuss with Professor Snape about allowing you to attend other classes during flying time."

"Thank you, Mrs. Hooch," Dyroth replied, his expression neutral, though inside he was celebrating his small victory. He had been looking for a way to avoid this class, and it had practically fallen into his lap.

"Go on now," Mrs. Hooch encouraged. "Take a rest."

Dyroth cheerfully headed toward the grass, lying down with his fifth-year Potions textbook. As the warm sun bathed him, he opened the book, already immersing himself in its contents.

"Everyone! Quiet!" Mrs. Hooch called out. "Now, mount your brooms. Hold on tight. As soon as I blow the whistle, kick off the ground and fly into the air!"

The lesson proceeded without incident. Neville didn't have his usual mishap, and there was no quarrel between Draco and Harry. Everything went smoothly, and Mrs. Hooch seemed pleased as she watched her students hover in the air.

"Now," she announced, "I'll be heading to the castle to fetch something. Feel free to enjoy your flying, but only on this lawn! If anyone crosses the boundary, there will be consequences!"

The young wizards took her words to heart, eagerly engaging in flying games. Nearby, the Patil twins, Parvati and Padma, wobbled unsteadily on their brooms, their eyes filled with concern as they watched Dyroth lying peacefully on the grass.

"Dyroth, are you alright?" Parvati asked, cautiously dismounting her broom.

Dyroth looked up from his book and cast a quick Levitation Charm to stabilize the girls.

"I'm fine," he reassured them with a smile. "If I can't ride a broomstick, so what? I'll just learn to Apparate earlier. Besides, Hogwarts isn't going to kick me out just because I can't fly, right?"

The two girls giggled at his joke.

"You're the professors' favorite," Parvati said with admiration. "They'd never let you go."

As Dyroth continued to read, other students began to gather around, offering their own reassurances.

"Dyroth, it's okay if you can't fly. You've got other ways to get around, like Floo powder or Apparition!"

"Yeah, brooms are inconvenient anyway. They don't even protect you from rain! Imagine getting stuck in a storm mid-flight!"

"My uncle's friend nearly got struck by lightning once while flying. He barely made it to safety!"

Dyroth acknowledged their comforting words with a smile. The sight of everyone coming together to support him attracted Ron's attention — and his envy.

Why was everyone comforting Dyroth while he, Ron, was constantly being scolded for his own mistakes? It wasn't fair. His jealousy boiled over, and he muttered under his breath, "Traitors... All of you Gryffindor traitors."

Draco overheard him and was instantly furious. "What did you say, Weasley?" he snapped, storming toward Ron.

Ron, equally angry, squared off with Draco. "Isn't it obvious? You're all falling for his act. He's just pretending to be nice!"

Ron's jealousy had been simmering ever since the train ride to Hogwarts. He couldn't stand how Dyroth, another new student, attracted so much attention and respect. And now, seeing everyone flock to comfort Dyroth, he couldn't hold back his bitterness.

But his words didn't win him any allies. Instead, they only earned him disapproving glares — even from his own best friend, Harry.

"Ron, Dyroth saved our classmates! He's a friend to Gryffindor!"

"Yeah, sure. Who knows if he's just pretending?"

Dyroth smiled gently, not bothering to respond to Ron's outburst. He knew better than to get angry over the jealous rant of a child. After all, what adult would waste time getting angry with a kid seeking attention?

Ron's face flushed with frustration, his jealousy twisting his features into a grimace. Ignoring Harry's attempts to stop him, Ron mounted his broom and charged directly at Dyroth.

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