A crisp sound rang out.
Neville's eyes widened. He had expected it to hurt, but he actually only felt a cool, tingling sensation.
Immediately following that, the twisted wrist reset at a visible speed; the swelling subsided, and the skin became smooth again.
Neville moved his fingers.
It was fixed.
Completely healed.
"...Eh?" Neville stared blankly at his hand, tears still hanging from his eyes.
The entire field fell silent.
Even Madam Hooch's mouth hung open, her hawk-like eyes bulging as she stared fixedly at Tamara.
"A healing charm?!"
Madam Hooch's voice went up an octave. "This... this is advanced magic only encountered in medical courses in the sixth or even seventh year! You're clearly only a first-year?!"
Although the surrounding students didn't quite understand the difficulty of the spell, they all let out gasps of "Wow" upon seeing a broken wrist mended instantly.
"What's so hard about it?"
Tamara stood up and elegantly stowed her wand, as if she had just casually swatted a fly.
"It can be done as long as one understands a bit of human anatomy and mana guidance."
She looked down at Neville, who was still sitting stupidly on the ground, and frowned.
"Why are you still sitting on the ground? Waiting to become part of the lawn?"
Neville scrambled to his feet, looking at Tamara as if he were seeing Merlin reborn.
"Th... Thank you..."
[Ding! Quest Completed: Benevolent Healer.]
[You have healed a classmate with divine skill and once again refreshed the Professor's worldview.]
[Reward: Life +2.]
[Current Life: 14.]
Tamara happily brushed non-existent dust off her robes.
"Alright, although the wrist is set, just to be safe..." Madam Hooch finally recovered from her shock, looking at Tamara with an extremely complex expression.
"Mr. Longbottom still needs to go to the hospital wing to let Madam Pomfrey check it; after all, it was a fracture."
"As for Miss Riddle... I'm awarding twenty points to Slytherin! For this astonishing talent and timely assistance!"
Madam Hooch helped Neville away. Before leaving, she warned everyone: "No one is to move until I return! Otherwise, you'll be out of Hogwarts!"
However, as soon as the teacher left, the rules became mere decorations.
"Did you see his face? That great big lump?"
Draco laughed as he picked up the glass ball Neville had dropped on the grass—the Remembrall.
"Give it here, Malfoy," Harry Potter stepped forward, his voice low.
"I think I'll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find," Draco smirked, mounting his broom. "How about the top of that tree?"
"No!"
Harry shouted, grabbed his broom, mounted it, and kicked off hard into the air.
Tamara stood below, making no move to stop the farce.
She had just gained two Life points and was in a good mood, perfect for watching a monkey show.
She crossed her arms and tilted her head slightly, watching the two chasing figures in the sky.
Specifically, she was watching Harry Potter.
The boy with glasses was displaying incredible talent in the air.
It was his first time on a broom, yet he flew like a graceful bird.
He dived, banked, and accelerated with movements so fluid it was as if he had lived on a broom for ten years.
Especially that final fifty-foot vertical dive, just to catch the glass ball.
"Typical Gryffindor."
She snorted inwardly, her eyes full of distaste.
This was exactly the type Dumbledore liked—reckless, impulsive, risking everything for so-called heroism.
In contrast, Tom had never been recognized by Dumbledore.
Just then, Professor McGonagall rushed out and angrily ordered Harry to stop.
Harry was led away.
Draco landed on the ground with a triumphant smile.
"He's finished!" Draco said gleefully to those around him. "He's going to be expelled! It's only the first Flying Class!"
The Slytherin students cheered.
Only Tamara did not smile.
"Don't celebrate too early, Draco."
Tamara said flatly, her gaze still fixed on the direction where Professor McGonagall and Harry had disappeared.
"What do you mean?" Draco blinked. "Madam Hooch said anyone who moves will be expelled!"
"Professor McGonagall's expression just now wasn't that of catching a culprit."
Tamara turned around and coldly threw a wet blanket over her naive followers.
"The way she looked at Potter just now was like a goblin seeing a pile of Galleons."
"If I'm not mistaken..."
Tamara curled her lips into a mocking smile.
"Gryffindor is likely about to welcome the youngest seeker of the century."
"Impossible!" Draco shrieked. "First-years aren't allowed to have brooms! It's a school rule!"
"School rules?"
Tamara gave a contemptuous laugh and tossed her worn broom back into the pile.
"Draco, don't you understand yet?"
"In this world, rules are used to constrain the mediocre."
"For the privileged—or the so-called savior—rules... are just decorations meant to be broken."