The Weight of Expectation
The air in the grand courtyard of the Aethelgard Academy of Arcane Arts hummed with the nervous energy of first-year students.
E.g. ：Royal Baby VANISHES, Dragon Egg Appears: ANCIENT Pact STUNS Kingdom!
- 1、The Weight of Expectation
- 2、A Fateful Choice
- 3、The Spark of the Ancient
- 4、A Dance of Chaos
- 5、The Unveiling of Power
- 6、The Aftermath and the Secret
Elias Vane stood among them, outwardly composed, but inside, a knot of dread tightened with every passing second.
His family, the ancient and revered House of Vane, expected nothing less than perfection, especially from their only heir.
He carried the weight of generations of powerful sorcerers on his slender shoulders, a legacy he felt utterly unqualified to uphold.
Elias was brilliant in theory, a voracious reader of ancient texts, but practical magic often felt like a foreign language to his hands.
Today, the first flying lesson, was a particularly cruel test of his perceived inadequacies.
His older brother, a celebrated Quidditch star, had soared effortlessly on his first attempt, a story his family never tired of recounting.
Elias only hoped to stay on the broom and avoid public humiliation, a quiet dread gnawing at his stomach.
A Fateful Choice
Professor Aldrin, Head of the Gryffindor-esque house of Gryphus, a kind-faced witch with a stern demeanor, gestured towards a pile of well-worn practice brooms.
"Choose your steed, young wizards," she announced, her voice echoing slightly in the vast space.
Elias’s eyes scanned the collection, seeking the most innocuous, least intimidating option.
He gravitated towards a particularly ancient-looking broom, its bristles frayed, its handle smooth with age.
It seemed docile, safe, almost forgotten.
Unbeknownst to Elias, another pair of eyes watched his selection with keen interest from the shadows of a nearby archway.
Professor Thorne, a formidable instructor from the rival house of Serpentis, carried a cold, calculating glint in his gaze.
Thorne harbored a deep-seated resentment for House Vane, believing their influence at the Academy was undeserved.
More specifically, he despised Professor Aldrin, seeing her as a soft touch who spoiled her favored Gryphus students, especially the Vanes.
Earlier that morning, Thorne had discreetly applied a volatile, experimental charm to that specific antique broom.
It was designed to cause an embarrassing, but ultimately harmless, malfunction—a bit of unruly bucking, a brief loss of control.
His aim was to publicly mortify Elias, undermine Aldrin’s teaching methods, and perhaps subtly shift the balance of power within the Academy’s faculty.
He watched Elias grasp the broom, a thin, cruel smile touching his lips.
The Spark of the Ancient
Elias took a deep breath, mimicking the stance Professor Aldrin had demonstrated, and pushed off the ground.
The broom lifted a mere foot, wobbled precariously, and then, inexplicably, surged upwards.
It wasn't a gentle ascent; it was a violent, upward lurch, as if an unseen hand had snatched it with immense force.
A low, guttural hum vibrated through the ancient wood, a sound that made the very air crackle.
Elias gasped, his knuckles white as he desperately clutched the handle, his feet dangling uselessly.
Professor Thorne’s eyes widened in alarm; this was far more aggressive than his charm intended.
The broom wasn't merely malfunctioning; it was alive, thrashing with an uncontrollable, primal energy.
It seemed to possess a will of its own, an ancient spirit awakened by Thorne’s ill-conceived spell and perhaps something else.
With a terrifying shriek of splintering wood, the broom shot like a projectile into the sky, dragging a screaming Elias behind it.
A Dance of Chaos
The courtyard erupted into pandemonium; students scattered, professors yelled, and a collective gasp rose as the broom became a missile.
It tore through the great hall's massive stained-glass window depicting the founding of the Academy, shattering centuries of artistry into glittering shards.
Elias was a ragdoll, buffeted by the impossible speeds, his terror absolute, yet a strange, almost electric tingle ran through his veins.
The broom then veered sharply, smashing through the gilded crest of House Serpentis emblazoned on an ancient tapestry, a direct affront.
Professor Thorne blanched, a cold dread seizing him; the broom seemed to be acting with malicious intent, targeting specific symbols.
It was as if the ancient wood remembered old grievances, or perhaps the charm had simply become a conduit for something far more sinister.
Professor Aldrin, with a cry of alarm, was the first to leap onto her own broom, soaring after the runaway student.
She began casting powerful calming charms and disarming spells, her wand flashing with pure intent.
Meanwhile, Thorne, pale and sweating, muttered counter-spells under his breath, desperately trying to rein in the catastrophe he had unleashed, but to no avail.
The broom seemed to feed on the magical energy directed at it, accelerating, becoming more frenzied.
It plunged through the professors' common room, knocking over rare potions and priceless magical instruments, then careened through the library, sending ancient tomes scattering like autumn leaves.
Elias, though terrified, felt an odd rhythm to the broom’s erratic movements, a wild, untamed beat that resonated deep within him.
The Unveiling of Power
The chase became a desperate ballet of destruction and pursuit.
Three more professors joined Aldrin, their combined magical might hurled at the rampaging broom, each spell failing spectacularly.
