"Harry Potter and the Shadows of Merlin"

Dyna wanted to rush straight to the infirmary and hit Madam Hooch with a Memory Charm on the way back, making her forget he had asked for leave before class.

But the thought vanished as quickly as it had appeared.

He came from Azkaban, but he had always believed he wasn't a criminal. Casting a Memory Charm on a professor might have been effective, but it was a serious violation of school rules.

And what was he really trying to achieve by doing that? Prevent his house from losing points?

Since when had he started caring about something like collective honor? Among all of Gryffindor, only three and a half people could be considered close to him: the twins, Hermione, and Harry Potter.

So why had his first instinct been to cover up a lie? Because he didn't want to disappoint the professors?

Yes. After thinking about it, that was the only conclusion he could draw.

The professors were good to him—patient, fair, and kind—so he wanted to repay their kindness. But the truth was still the truth. Was losing a few points really so terrible?

He was just an eleven-year-old child, after all. Wasn't it normal to make mistakes?

Besides, even if he managed to maintain a "good boy" image, would his classmates truly accept him? Since the start of term, he had earned nearly thirty points for Gryffindor, yet no one really tried to befriend him.

A criminal might seem good—but maybe that's only because he's good at acting.

Yes, prejudice is not easy to erase. People will bend over backward to confirm what they already believe. If there's no evidence, they'll invent it, twisting cause and effect until it fits their narrative.

So, if it can't be changed, why force himself to conform?

Thinking this way, Dyna smiled and stepped out of the castle.

The Gryffindor and Slytherin first-years were already gathered, buzzing with excitement as they discussed the strange, thrilling feeling of being three feet off the ground.

Only Hermione stood apart, isolated as if by an invisible barrier, blankly staring at the broom in her hand.

Dyna approached the broom that had originally been meant for him. He didn't even bother saying "Up!"—he just thought it.

The broom instantly leapt into his hand, eager and responsive. He could even feel a joyful emotion radiating from it as he grabbed it.

Hmm. If Quidditch had existed in Merlin's time, he must have been an exceptional player.

Dyna walked toward Hermione. She had noticed him and asked:

"Are you feeling better?"

"I feel great now," Dyna replied.

Hermione nodded, then curiously asked,

"How did you make the broom jump into your hand like that? I've tried everything, but it just doesn't work for me."

Dyna thought for a moment.

"Why don't you try again now? Show me."

Hermione set the broom on the ground and narrowed her eyes, focusing intently.

"Up!" she commanded.

Her tone was firm and precise.

"Up," she said again, softer now—like one friend trying to gently wake another.

"Come on up!" she tried, almost singing the words like an aria.

"Uppp~," she attempted with a lilting coo, making Dyna shudder involuntarily.

"Uppp…" she murmured again, this time pleading.

The broom only rolled slightly when she cooed, as if reluctantly responding—possibly out of pure shock, the same kind Dyna felt.

"See? That's what happens," Hermione said with a sigh, bending down to pick up the broom again. She gave a helpless shrug.

"Dyna, can you tell what I'm doing wrong? Is it my tone? My stance? Am I not firm enough?"

Dyna considered saying the broom simply disliked her flying talent.

But instead, he shook his head.

"Your tone and posture are fine. You're very determined. Maybe you're just not suited for flying. But that's okay—no one's perfect. Everyone has something they're not good at. Don't take it to heart, Hermione."

Hermione nodded, accepting it, and asked:

"If no one's perfect, then what are you not good at?"

Dyna froze.

He genuinely didn't know how to answer. Maybe the fact that he couldn't bear children? That would definitely be an odd thing to bring up in this context.

Luckily, Malfoy saved him from answering.

"Look who it is!" Draco sneered, strutting over.

"The sick little criminal and the Mudblood who can't even make a broom twitch! What's wrong, Dyna Emrys? Think you're just as pathetic as Granger, so you're hanging around her now?"

Noisy.

Dyna didn't want to waste words. He drew his wand without hesitation.

"Silencio."

A flash of light. Malfoy's voice was gone.

His lips kept moving, but not a sound escaped.

His expression quickly morphed: astonishment, confusion, then rising panic.

But that only lasted a second. He remembered exactly who Dyna Emrys was—the boy who had easily taken down a senior like Dunat Avery.

Malfoy clenched his jaw shut, trying not to look like a fool.

His revenge, of course, would come later.

Just then, Madam Hooch returned.

Her sharp eyes immediately spotted Dyna among the crowd. He gave her a small nod, bracing for the point deduction.

To his surprise, Madam Hooch paused—just for a second—then looked away, as if she hadn't even noticed he'd been in the infirmary earlier.

Of course, in her mind, Dyna had probably just leapt out the infirmary window to avoid the medicine.

The infirmary was on the second floor.

If you're unfamiliar with Hogwarts architecture, think of how tall the Great Hall is. That's how high.

"Alright," Madam Hooch barked, clapping her hands. "Let's continue! Mount your brooms, push off from the ground, and try to float!"

Dyna swung his leg over the broom. The moment he sat down, he felt a strange but firm force—like the invisible seat of a bicycle—hold him in place.

He hadn't even pushed off the ground yet, but the broom slowly lifted him one foot up, hovering patiently.

Meanwhile, Hermione beside him looked like she had been glued to the earth.

No matter how she jumped, the broom refused to rise. In fact, it seemed to press her down.

She jumped again, managed to lift her feet slightly, but fell back down with a thud. She was almost certain she could feel the broom resisting her.

Girl, stop struggling. Isn't it nice being on the ground?

Dyna couldn't help smiling. Hermione's face flushed in embarrassment, so he quickly turned away to avoid making it worse.

"Don't look away, Emrys! I saw you laughing! It's not funny!" she huffed, cheeks puffed like an angry pufferfish.

Madam Hooch saw that most students had stabilized mid-air.

"Try rising higher," she instructed. "Do it slowly. Don't lose control. Stay within your comfort zone—but see how high you can go!"

Malfoy was the first to soar upward, climbing ten feet with a smirk directed right at Dyna.

Dyna ignored him and followed instructions.

Five feet. Ten. Twenty.

Past the walls.

Past the castle.

Past the towers.

He kept going.

From the ground, Madam Hooch panicked.

"Emrys! Don't fly that high—it's dangerous for your first time!"

Dyna glanced down. Madam Hooch now looked like a glass marble on a chessboard. He might not have heard her at all if not for his innate gifts.

Just as she pulled out her broom to chase after him, Dyna began to descend.

Fast.

Like a lightning bolt, he plummeted, gravity and broom acceleration blending into one breathtaking dive.

In a split second, he was only three feet off the ground—

And then, with expert timing, he pulled up in a smooth arc.

It was a cobra maneuver, elegant and controlled, and he came to a perfect hover.

Madam Hooch was speechless. The other students gaped in stunned silence.

"Madam," Dyna said with a calm smile, "were you saying something?"

Madam Hooch stared, still in shock.

One thought echoed through her mind:

This child was born for the sky.

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