Chapter 147: The Curse of Cast-Off Rags

Riddle’s broom suddenly trembled violently, spinning upward uncontrollably, as if it intended to throw him off midair.

In this critical moment, Riddle’s expression showed only a brief flicker of panic before he suddenly revealed remarkable courage. Before the broom could ascend too high, he decisively leapt down from about ten feet above the ground.

Before Hewin and Professor Prenton could even react, he had already landed on the lawn, feet touching down with a wince of pain.

“How do you feel?” Professor Prenton hurried over to examine him.

Hewin immediately drew his wand and cast the Accio spell on the rogue broom.

The broom flew toward Hewin but suddenly ignited mid-flight, turning to ashes in an instant, scattered by the autumn breeze.

Some powder drifted down beside Professor Prenton, who looked up at the self-combusting broom with a grim expression.

“I suggest you get your knees and ankles examined at the infirmary,” the professor said, casting a simple healing charm on Riddle’s leg before turning to the startled young wizards. “Who among you will escort Riddle to the infirmary?”

“I will, Professor,” Hewin said, lowering himself to the ground in front of Prenton.

“Good, I’ll leave it to you. I have some matters to attend to here and will join you shortly,” the professor nodded toward Hewin.

Hewin greeted Ab and the others briefly, then helped Riddle up and headed toward the castle.

Along the way, Riddle remained silent, his expression detached, as if the incident had never occurred.

“Do you know who tampered with your broom?” Hewin suddenly broke the silence.

“Who else could it be?” Riddle responded coldly, still silent until then.

“Lestrange and Avery?” Hewin frowned. “Where would they have learned such a cruel hex?”

“Rozier, you come from the same background as them. Don’t you understand how they managed to do this?” Riddle asked quietly.

Hewin pondered the clumsy magic skills of Lestrange and Avery, unable to imagine them mastering such an advanced broom-targeting hex in such a short time.

Then it had to be some external aid.

“A portable triggered hex?” Hewin inquired.

“Probably,” Riddle said vaguely, shaking his head faintly. “They’ve been a bit more reserved since you visited our dormitory, but this morning I saw them receive many packages in the Great Hall. I’m sure there are plenty of things aimed at me.”

Hewin’s brow furrowed even deeper.

He vaguely suspected that his assistance to Riddle had made Lestrange and Avery more resentful and rebellious, prompting them to adopt more extreme measures.

“Do you want me to confront them?” Hewin sighed softly.

“No need, I’ll handle it myself,” Riddle replied.

Once again, silence fell between them as they walked wordlessly to the infirmary.

…

After Madam Dalair adjusted Riddle’s slightly dislocated bones, Professor Prenton arrived, accompanied by Headmaster Dippet and a Slytherin student—Dick Lestrange, whose face was now unusually pale.

“Mr. Riddle, the problem with your broom was caused by a hex that appeared over a decade ago,” Professor Prenton explained as soon as he arrived at the infirmary.

“This hex is called the Hurling Hex. It causes the broom to lose control and hurls the wizard off like garbage. After throwing the wizard off, it ignites itself to destroy evidence of the hex.”

“However, this hex has been around for over ten years and is a fairly common method of sabotaging Quidditch players. Experienced players know how it works: a cursed note is attached to the broom, which activates as soon as someone begins flying.”

“Mr. Lestrange deliberately swapped places with Mr. Riddle after lining up, an obvious move that makes it clear he tampered with the broom,” Prenton said, pointing at Lestrange.

Lestrange’s ruddy face turned as pale as the ashes in the Slytherin common room as he stammered, “I... I just wanted to play a joke...”

“Mr. Lestrange, have you considered that your so-called joke could have threatened another student’s life?” Headmaster Dippet said sternly.

“I... I was deceived by them...” Lestrange struggled helplessly. “The shop owner in Knockturn Alley said no evidence would be left behind...”

‘So this is a self-inflicted wound?’ Hewin looked at Lestrange in disbelief, doubting his sanity.

Originally, there was no concrete evidence, but after his confession, the evidence appeared immediately!

“I will notify your parents to come to Hogwarts to discuss your punishment,” Headmaster Dippet said, taking a deep breath to calm his anger.

Professor Prenton, seeing Lestrange admit his fault so readily, shook his head with a hint of disinterest.

He then turned to Riddle with praise: “Your reaction was timely. Jumping off the broom before it reached high altitude indeed reduced the harm caused by this hex.”

“I should thank you for your help, Professor,” Riddle said politely.

“It’s nothing. It’s part of my duty as a professor!” Prenton patted his chest and smiled.

With other matters to attend to, Headmaster Dippet and Professor Prenton left the infirmary after advising Riddle to rest well. They took Lestrange with them, leaving the nature of his punishment unknown.

Hewin glanced at the trembling Lestrange and suddenly noticed a wristband on his arm.

The exquisite band seemed inscribed with ancient runic circuits—clearly an alchemical artifact.

Before Lestrange exited the infirmary, Hewin silently activated his All-Seeing Eye and scrutinized the runes on the wristband. Under its vision, the magical energy shimmered silver, flowing through different patterns.

‘Those represent the Niven runes for shield, repulsion, and heavy strike...’

Hewin identified only three types of Niven runes before Lestrange stepped out of sight behind a wall.

Looking down at Riddle resting on the bed, Hewin said solemnly:

“Riddle, I think you’ll need to be much more careful from now on.”

…

…