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Heavy is the Crown (Harry Potter) Chapter 63: Flying Lessons (2)
🕑 Added 2025-06-27 00:05:00 +0000 UTC[Third Person's PoV]
Both Harry and Malfoy soared through the air at breakneck speed, locked in a fierce and competitive chase. Malfoy weaved through the sky with a smug expression, attempting to outmaneuver Harry and shake him off his tail.
But Harry gripped his broom tightly with both hands, his knuckles white, his body leaning forward instinctively. A rush of exhilaration surged through him — fierce, wild, and free — as he realized something incredible: this was something he could do without anyone teaching him. It came to him as naturally as breathing.
Eyes narrowed with determination, Harry surged ahead, his broom responding almost as if it were part of him. With a burst of speed, he darted past Malfoy and cut cleanly in front of him, forcing the blonde boy to swerve abruptly to avoid a collision. Malfoy’s face contorted in stunned disbelief.
“Give it here,” Harry demanded, his voice sharp with confidence. “Or I’ll knock you off that broom!”
“Oh, yeah?” Malfoy retorted, trying to mask his fear with a sneer, though a flicker of worry betrayed him.
Harry didn’t hesitate. His body moved with unthinking precision. He leaned forward again, and the broom shot ahead like a javelin. Malfoy barely dodged in time, a look of panic flashing across his face.
Harry spun his broom around in a sharp arc, maintaining complete control, and hovered in place, steady and defiant. Cheers and applause erupted from below; clapping and whistling in admiration.
“No Crabbe and Goyle to save you up here, Malfoy,” Harry called, voice taunting.
It was clear the same thought had occurred to Malfoy. His eyes darted nervously. Then, in a burst of frustration, he shouted, “Catch it if you can, then!” With that, he hurled the Remembrall high into the air and dived back toward the ground.
Harry’s breath caught as he saw the small glass ball arc upward, glittering in the sunlight, before gravity claimed it. Time seemed to slow. Without hesitation, he angled his broom downward and dived.
The wind roared in his ears like a freight train, tangling his hair and making his eyes water. Screams and gasps of horror echoed from below as he gained speed, racing the falling Remembrall. His fingers stretched out desperately. The ground rushed up to meet him — too fast, too soon — and then, just a foot from the earth, his hand closed around the ball.
Triumph and terror collided inside him as he yanked up the broom with all his strength, barely managing to level out. He stuck his foot out, dirt being kicked up due to the force as he braked. But when he stopped, he sat up and was visibly breathless and shaking, the Remembrall was still clutched tightly in his fist.
“HARRY POTTER!”
The sharp voice cut through the commotion like a blade. Arthur’s eyes widened as he spotted Professor McGonagall striding across the lawn with purpose. A grin spread across his face.
‘Here it is! My opportunity to get into Quidditch!’ Arthur thought excitedly, watching as Harry stood, frozen in place, visibly trembling from the adrenaline and sudden appearance of the stern professor.
“Never — in all my time at Hogwarts —” McGonagall’s voice was shaking with disbelief, her glasses flashing dangerously. “— how dare you — you might have broken your neck —”
“It wasn’t his fault, Professor —” came a voice.
“Be quiet, Miss Patil —”
“But Malfoy —” said Ron.
“That’s enough, Mr. Weasley. Potter, follow me. Now.”
Madam Hooch looked just as furious — perhaps even humiliated — that another professor had to intervene during her flying lesson. Her lips pressed into a tight line as Harry followed McGonagall, shoulders stiff with anxiety.
To save face, she turned toward Malfoy with a scowl. “As Professor McGonagall handles Mr. Potter's punishment, I’ll be dealing with your behavior, Mr. Malfoy.”
Malfoy’s eyes widened, and he took a small step back, intimidated by the sudden steel in Madam Hooch’s voice and the stern look etched into her features.
Meanwhile, Arthur quietly slipped away from the gathered students, a smirk playing at his lips.
‘Harry’s punishment, my tush,’ he thought with a soft chuckle. He placed a hand over his chest, and a subtle glow flickered — a tier-one magic circle activated silently beneath his palm, reducing his presence until he was practically invisible.
With stealth worthy of a seasoned spy, he disappeared into the castle, tailing Harry and Professor McGonagall at a safe distance. Just before the doors swung shut behind him, he caught Madam Hooch’s final words:
“Twenty points from Slytherin—!”
Arthur didn’t bother waiting for the rest. He crept silently through the corridors, following McGonagall as she strode toward the Charms classroom. Before long, she emerged again — this time with Oliver Wood, the burly and enthusiastic Captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team — in tow.
Arthur’s grin widened.
He softly chuckled as he remembered all of the memes he saw in his past life about Voldemort being scared of Woods, which was why Voldemort started making his move after Woods graduated from Hogwarts, or about Woods drowning himself after losing the Quidditch Cup.
Arthur peeked around the stone corridor, just in time to see the three of them slip into an empty classroom. A few seconds later, the translucent form of Peeves the Poltergeist phased through the wooden door, muttering angrily to himself as he floated off in the opposite direction.
Arthur waited a moment, then quickly jogged over and pressed his ear against the door, carefully tuning in to the voices inside.
“Potter, this is Oliver Wood,” came Professor McGonagall’s unmistakable voice. “Wood — I’ve found you a Seeker.”
“Are you serious, Professor?” Wood said, his voice practically bursting with excitement.
“Absolutely,” McGonagall replied, crisp and composed as ever. “The boy’s a natural. I’ve never seen anything like it. Was that your first time on a broomstick, Potter?”
Arthur couldn’t see inside the room, but he could imagine Harry nodding shyly.
“He caught that thing in his hand after a fifty-foot dive,” McGonagall continued proudly. “Didn’t even scratch himself. Charlie Weasley couldn’t have pulled that off any smoother.”
Arthur slowly backed away from the door, eyes sparkling as he found his opportunity. Then, with a theatrical wave of his hand over his face, he donned a dramatically distressed expression and burst through the door as if it were the most urgent matter in the entire world.
“Harry is innocent, Professor! There’s no need to punish him so severely!” he cried.
The abrupt entrance startled all three occupants of the room. Harry nearly jumped out of his skin, Wood flinched as though Arthur were a rogue Bludger, and Professor McGonagall stiffened, blinking in disbelief.
“Art—!” McGonagall began, but Arthur was already mid-performance.
“It’s Malfoy who should be punished! Harry did nothing wrong! He was just trying to help Neville!”
“Arthur—” McGonagall tried again, eyes narrowing.
“He risked his own safety to retrieve the Remembrall! That’s selflessness! That’s not something that deserves punishment!”
“Arthur, Harry isn’t—”
“He’s a hero! A loyal friend! He doesn’t deserve to be expelled or sent to the dungeons or—!”
“ARTHUR!” McGonagall finally snapped, her voice booming like thunder. The sheer volume made Arthur freeze mid-rant, almost flinching as he didn't expect her voice to go so high.
She took a long breath, pinching the bridge of her nose and muttering something under her breath.
“First of all,” she said slowly, regaining her composure, “Harry isn’t in any trouble, he's not facing any punishment.”
Arthur blinked. “He’s not?”
Harry echoed him with a surprised, “I’m not?”
McGonagall sighed. “No. Quite the opposite. I brought Mr. Potter here to recommend him to Mr. Wood as the new Seeker for the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Based on what I saw out on the field, he has remarkable skill — natural talent.”
There was a long silence. Arthur’s mouth opened and closed a few times, as if he was trying to process everything for the first time. Then, slowly, color began to rise to his cheeks.
“Oh,” he muttered sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, this is... awkward.”
Comments
Bryan Vargas
Arthur’s only going to be a substitute since the roaster is full
Green223
Please I beg don't have Arthur do Quidditch it sucks as a sport and it's boring to read through.
