AN: This is a Challenge fic, written for the Pottermore Challenge, Diagon Alley, Wiseacre Wizarding Equipment, using the prompt Neville Longbottom.
I'm also writing this fic for the Weasley's Wizard Wheezes Challenge.
I am testing the product "Windy Wonders" for side effects. These side effects include: disappearing and appearing in new places (the character must be stuck in a location that they do not expect) and it has unspecific time (no word length requirement). The only other thing we should tell you about this product, is for some reason, it causes the user to speak in a language that is not their first (Character must have communication issues of some sort). That is all. I hope you enjoy!
Neville Longbottom was forgetful and clumsy, and, frankly, safer with both feet firmly on the ground. Everybody knew this, hell, even Neville knew this. Which does not explain what he was doing, 50 feet up in the air, trying to fly a broom.
Neville honestly does not remember where, or when, he agreed to this, but this morning, just as he was enjoying a second helping of bacon and eggs, Seamus and Ron had swooped down on him, claiming that he had agreed to learn how to fly today.
When he asked them when and where exactly he had agreed to this, they were incredibly vague, saying something about the last Gryffindor party, which Neville was sure was bollocks, as he had not even been in the tower at the last Gryffindor party, but had had detention with Professor Snape. Under very heartfelt protest from Neville, Seamus and Ron dragged Neville out onto the Quidditch Pitch.
Once there they manhandled him onto a broom and gave him a push, and there he hung, 50 feet of the ground, wishing he had paid more attention in First Year Quidditch Practice on how to actually land the broom.
He glanced down again, quickly wishing he hadn't, as he could make out the tiny figures of Ron and Seamus waving up at him and shouting something, but he could also see that he was a dizzying height from the ground.
"What!? I can't hear you! Speak louder you arseholes!" Neville screamed, at the same time desperate for help at getting down and kicking their arses, or at least screaming at them, as he wasn't too sure he could take the two of them.
Steeling himself, and glancing down again, he saw that they were gesturing something.
Squinting, Neville tried to make out what they were gesturing, which inadvertently made him lean forward, which in turn made the broom go forward and lower.
Giving out a little yelp of fright, Neville immediately straightened up, desperate to not move. Out of the corner of his eye he saw that Ron and Seamus were gesturing and cheering, making motions which seemed to motion Neville to lean forward again.
Gripping the broom so tight that his hands were white, and he was sure he was going to have splinters later, he shakily leaned forward again, and was rewarded by moving an inch downwards and forwards. Gulping, Neville looked at Seamus and Ron, and, seeing them making encouraging gestures, he leaned forward again, and inch by painful inch, he moved downwards and forwards.
Neville didn't know how long he slowly and carefully leant forwards, but, since he was doing his best not to look at the ground, when his feet finally touched the ground, his legs collapsed into a jittery heap and all he was aware of was that ground, sweet, solid and unmoving was below him again.
He almost kissed the ground so happy was he to see it again. In fact, he was convinced he would have done it, had not Ron and Seamus's whooping cries of delight intruded on him, and he felt himself being heaved up by two pairs of arms.
Looking into their two grinning faces, he couldn't help but laugh with them.