Chapter 36: The Straight-A Student Is Not Good at Sports

The Forbidden Forest lay just beyond the far side of the Quidditch pitch. Ever since following Harry to Hagrid’s "treasure room" and witnessing his collection, Sherlock had been filled with a profound interest in the forest. Of course, he was equally intrigued by other parts of Hogwarts—such as the corridor on the right side of the fourth floor. At the start of the term, Dumbledore had explicitly warned that anyone wishing to meet an accidental, painful death should go there. For that very reason, it, like the Forbidden Forest, was a must-explore destination for Sherlock. Today, the wind was particularly boisterous, and the dark, swaying trees seemed to radiate an infinite allure. Consequently, the petty squabbles between the little lions and the snakes seemed utterly dull to him.

Just as the standoff between the two houses intensified, the instructor in charge of their flight lessons arrived fashionably late. Madam Rolanda Hooch, the flight instructor, had short, gray, ear-length hair and yellow eyes that resembled those of a hawk. With just a single glance, Sherlock had pegged her personality: swift, decisive, and strictly demanding of both herself and others. Indeed, upon arrival, Madam Hooch didn’t even offer an opening remark; she dove straight into teaching mode.

"Well, what are you all waiting for? Everyone stand next to a broomstick! Come on, quickly, move it!"

Urged on by Madam Hooch, the young wizards quickly took their positions. She then began teaching flight mechanics in a straightforward manner. It was clear that she intended for them to master the theory through practice. Sherlock was quite happy with this approach; it was exactly the way he liked it.

However, the results were less than ideal. Scanning the field, Sherlock noticed that among both houses, only a handful of students could manage the introductory maneuver. This group included Harry and Malfoy. The action seemed simple enough: stand to the right of the broom, extend your right hand, and shout, "Up!"

However... Neville’s broom didn’t budge. Ron’s, on the other hand, reacted too violently, jumping up and smacking him in the nose. These were the two extremes. Most students’ brooms merely rolled on the ground or gave a slight tremor, acting as if they were coyly resisting. Among them were Sherlock and Hermione.

When Sherlock looked toward Hermione, she happened to look his way. Sherlock didn't care, but Hermione felt rather humiliated. In the month since school started, Hermione had successfully cemented her status as the top student among the newcomers. Initially, Sherlock had been a formidable rival, but after his display of ignorance regarding the Earth orbiting the Sun during Astronomy and his absence from Defense Against the Dark Arts, she considered him to have effectively forfeited his standing. She never expected to hit a wall in flying class—and to be caught in the act by Sherlock, of all people.

Fortunately, Sherlock quickly looked away. Hermione then noticed the broom Harry was gripping tightly, which left her feeling a bit disappointed. Yet, she reasoned that since he was the savior of the wizarding world—the boy who had defeated Voldemort as an infant—it was acceptable that he could manage this. Conversely, upon discovering that Sherlock’s broom was only shaking just like hers, she couldn't help but reveal a smile of relief. It seemed that bookworms like them weren't naturally gifted at sports.

However, the next moment, she froze. As Sherlock spoke again, his broom rose steadily into his hand.

"Up!"

Hermione, unwilling to accept defeat, tried again. This time, the broom remained completely still, offering her no face whatsoever.

"Up!" Hermione increased her volume, as if trying to strike fear into the broom. Unfortunately, it was useless; the broom was not afraid. Hermione: (#￣～￣#)

There were many others like Hermione. No matter how much they raised their voices or changed their posture, the brooms refused to cooperate. Madam Hooch, with her years of teaching experience, was unfazed. Her expertise came into play as she went around, demonstrating the technique one by one. With her hands-on guidance, after half an hour, every young wizard had finally mastered the trick to making their brooms obey.

Next, Madam Hooch began demonstrating how to mount the broom, how to prevent sliding off, and the correct way to grip it. Hermione performed excellently during this phase, earning encouragement from Madam Hooch. In contrast, Malfoy, who had boasted of his high skill level, was constantly criticized for doing things incorrectly.

Seeing Malfoy repeatedly reprimanded, Harry and Ron wore their joy on their faces. "So much for being so great," Ron said with disdain. "I knew he was just bragging." Harry nodded repeatedly.

Sherlock, however, shook his head. "No, he likely flies quite well."

"Huh? Why?" Ron expressed his doubt, while Harry skipped the confusion and went straight to asking for the reasoning. After knowing Sherlock for a month, he had developed a strong feeling that whenever Sherlock began to reason, he would be convinced.

"It's simple. Some people who already know how to drive often struggle more with a driving test than someone who has never touched a car before," Sherlock explained calmly, looking at the disgruntled Malfoy. "Years of experience have formed their own set of habits—habits that may not be the 'standard' answer, but are the ones best suited to them. Such people often fare worse than blank-slate novices when taking a qualifying exam. To my knowledge, even professional drivers sometimes have to retake basic tests because they can't pass them."

Harry and Ron: (*゜ー゜*)

Though they didn't fully understand what he was talking about, it sounded incredibly profound.

Finally, the preliminaries were over, and the moment to take flight had arrived. "Alright, when I blow my whistle, you will kick off the ground—remember, kick hard," Madam Hooch said, her gaze sweeping across the field. "Hold your brooms steady, rise a few feet, then lean slightly forward and descend vertically back to the ground."

For the first flight, the altitude naturally had to be within a controllable range. At this moment, everyone was nervous. Some students were gripping their brooms so hard their knuckles were white. Sherlock sighed; it was a waste of effort. If they were on a battlefield, a single detail like that could decide life or death.

Just then, a flicker of movement caught his eye. He moved a few steps toward his rear right, subtly shielding a classmate in front of him. Because everyone’s attention was on their own broomsticks, no one noticed his movement.

"Listen for my whistle! Three—two—"

However, before Madam Hooch could finish counting, an accident occurred.