I am Harry Potter's Cousin, Big D

Harry was furious, more angry than he had ever been in his life, to an almost unbearable degree. He had lost his argument with Malfoy the previous day. However, a piece of good news from Ron slightly eased his anger: Flying class was starting that afternoon.

Flying. No matter when or where, it is something humans have always dreamed of, with the exception of those with acrophobia. He had to perform well in class to thoroughly outshine Malfoy. He had heard Malfoy boasting about his flying skills and about the many different types of broomsticks he had tried, but Harry knew it was all just bragging. He'd believed it at first, until Malfoy had boasted about narrowly avoiding a Muggle helicopter, claiming to have grazed past it with an extremely difficult flying maneuver. Harry didn't know what that maneuver was, but he knew that the top of a helicopter had a rotor. The result of grazing past it would be getting chopped into countless pieces. Even magic couldn't piece together a pile of human fragments.

"Dudley," Hermione muttered restlessly as they sat in the library that morning, "today's flying class is with both of our houses together." She wrung her hands, a worried expression on her face. "What should I do? I'm not prepared at all. No matter how many books I read, I can't learn to fly."

Flying, especially on something as unstable as a broomstick, could only be learned through practice. Trying to learn it from a textbook was wishful thinking.

"What if I can't learn?" Hermione looked dejected, already imagining everyone soaring through the air while she was stuck on the ground. It was too embarrassing to even think about.

"I'll stay on the ground with you," Dudley answered without a moment's hesitation.

"What if I fall off the broom?" she asked, her voice small.

"I'll catch you down below," he said, patting his solid chest, a silent promise that he could definitely catch her.

Hermione fell silent. Although his words were comforting, she felt there was something slightly off about them.

At half past three that afternoon, the first-year students from Slytherin and Gryffindor arrived at a wide, flat lawn outside the castle. Whether they were from wizarding families or Muggle families, the young wizards were all buzzing with anticipation. Only Dudley was yawning listlessly. He wasn't very interested in a subject that focused solely on practice. He was self-aware enough to know that he definitely wouldn't be able to fly. Besides, it was a clear, breezy day, the perfect weather for a nap.

Opposite the lawn, a line of continuous black trees marked the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Dozens of broomsticks were laid out in neat rows on the grass, with eager students standing on either side.

Soon, their teacher, Madam Hooch, arrived. "What are you all waiting for?" she said loudly, her voice even more excited than that of the little wizards. "Everyone stand next to a broomstick. Quickly!"

"Stretch out your right hand, place it above the broom handle, and then say, 'Up!'" It was a truly simple, crude, and unpretentious spell.

"Up!" Harry yelled, and the broom obediently bounced into his hand. He was the first of all the students to do so. Others yelled several times, their brooms only rolling a few times on the ground. Harry, it had to be said, truly had a talent for riding broomsticks. Soon, other students' brooms also started to react, bouncing from the ground into their hands.

Of course, there were also some whose brooms didn't react at all, like Hermione's, which playfully rolled a few times and then stayed still. As for Dudley, as expected, his broom was even less responsive. To him, a broomstick was just an ordinary broom. So, while the teacher wasn't looking, he hooked it with his foot, lifted it with a quick flick, and easily grasped it in his hand.

Since he couldn't use it anyway, he might as well study it. A broomstick looked like just a broken stick pieced together, but in reality, there was an invisible cushioning charm on the handle. Otherwise, flying on a wooden stick for a long time would be somewhat unbearable for one's backside. Dudley's final assessment was that it was inferior to a magic carpet.

Before long, little wizards started flying into the sky on their brooms one after another, leaving only a few still standing on the ground, including Hermione and Dudley. Hermione tried several more times, but the broom still only flapped in place, so she gave up. Flying class wasn't a major subject anyway; it wasn't even included in the O.W.L.s.

Looking at Dudley, who was already holding a broomstick and studying it with no intention of 'going up' at all, Hermione's face flushed slightly. "Actually," she said quietly, "you don't have to stay and accompany me." She had misunderstood, thinking the broomstick in Dudley's hand had bounced up on its own and that he was staying on the ground for her sake.

"Hmm? Hmm?"

A scream from the sky interrupted them. Neville had lost control of his broom and was falling. Fortunately, it wasn't very high, and he only broke his arm. Madam Hooch helped him up and started walking him towards the school infirmary.

"What an idiot," someone whispered. "That little crybaby."

On the other side of the lawn, Harry and Malfoy were at it again, continuing the argument they hadn't finished the night before. Whatever was said, it ended with the two of them agreeing to a duel in the sky. Dudley was too lazy to bother with them anymore; they argued whenever they saw each other, and it was driving him crazy.

"Doesn't this mean the class is over?" Dudley thought, pinching his chin and looking at the chaotic scene. Although Madam Hooch had said she would be back soon, with a student injured, she definitely wouldn't be in the mood to teach anymore.

A bold idea suddenly formed in his mind. He hadn't done this since he'd come to Hogwarts.

"Hermione," he said, turning to her.

She, who had been staring at him, was startled by his sudden movement. Their eyes met, and her face started to flush slightly again. She quickly averted her gaze. "What?" she answered softly.

"Want to go to the Forbidden Forest?" Dudley leaned closer to her ear and whispered.

Hermione was stunned by his suggestion. "Now?" she whispered back, covering her mouth.

"Of course," he said. "While it's still early. We can be back in time for dinner." He just wanted to scout the edge of the forest, explore the route, and see if there was anything useful.

"But we're still in class," she protested verbally, but her inner restlessness betrayed her. Skipping... skipping class? With Dudley? The thought was surprisingly exciting.

"Skip it," he said with a grin. "It's not like we haven't done it before." As early as their time at Oxford Bridge Primary, Dudley had already taken Hermione to skip class.

(End of Chapter)

***

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