House: Ravenclaw
Word Count: 1728
Category: Short
Prompt(s): [Object] Hand-me-down broomstick
Addition: Written in 3rd Person
Year: Head
Remus looked warily down at the broom in his hand. It was old and slightly rotten, but it was all he had. It had been his father's broomstick when he was in hogwarts, handed down to Remus for reasons he couldn't comprehend. He let out a sigh, listening to the cheers of his friends and the quidditch team as they all practiced together. They all flew so perfectly, on their shiny new brooms, gliding through the air with ease. He didn't dare join them.
Kids were cruel, or at least that's what his mother had said. He would get laughed at if he went over to the Quidditch Pitch, of that he was sure. What, with his shabby, hand-me-down broom next to their sleek, new ones, or his terrible flying compared to the way they all glided through the air? To be honest, he wasn't even sure he could get off the ground.
The cold air chilled him, a breeze whipping through his hair. Remus wondered faintly why he'd chosen today of all days to try and practice flying. He gently set the old broomstick on the ground, standing up and shakily extending his hand.
"Up."
It came out nervous, his voice cracking as the word left his mouth. The broom didn't move. Remus tried again, though his voice only sounded shakier, like he was scared. After the fifth try he let out an exasperated sigh. But he was stubborn and persistent, a trait he'd gotten from his mother. He kept trying, over and over again, getting nothing but the same result. His confidence was draining away.
"You've got to believe in yourself," came a deep voice from behind him, he didn't need to turn around to know who it was. Red creeping up his neck as embarrassment washed over him, he turned around, looking at Sirius. The taller boy stood there with his stylish racing broom, still in his quidditch garb, smiling at Remus. The blond looked towards his rotting broom in something akin to shame.
"How long—how long have you been standing there?" Remus sounded tired, which was exactly how he felt. Sirius looked away sheepishly, pink tinting his cheeks.
"Not long...only about, five minutes, ten at the most." Remus almost felt like laughing at the brunet's answer - his friend had just watched him struggle to get his broom up off the ground for a good ten minutes. Sirius walked closer, standing in front of Remus as he dropped his broom, and staring determinedly into the latter's brown eyes.
"Do what I do, okay?" Remus nodded, albeit hesitantly, watching as Sirius extended his right arm over the broom. He followed quickly, his right arm shooting out over his own broom.
"Up!" Sirius' broom shot into his hand, a grin on his face. "Now you try." Remus took a deep breath.
"Up!" His voice wavered, the broom lifting off the ground a tad, before plopping back into the grass. Remus let out an aggravated sigh. He knew he wouldn't have been able to do it. Maybe, he pondered, there was something wrong with his broom.
"Come on, don't give up." He had to smile - Sirius was trying his best.
"Up!" His voice was confident this time, and the old broom soared into his hand. Remus could only stare in shock, looking up at Sirius and then back to the broom in his hand. Sirius let out a chuckle, his curly hair bouncing on his shoulders. They practiced the command a few more times, Remus getting it each try, his confidence growing.
Then they mounted the brooms and began hovering. Remus was surprised at how steady he was at first, having been sure the rickety broom would have collapsed within a second. They slowly flew a little bit higher, and a little higher, and a little more. In the end they were around thirty feet in the air. He grew shakier as the height increased, terrified he would fall off. Sirius seemed to notice this, and was prepared when Remus fell. It happened quickly, Remus' grip on the broom failing as he made a turn, moments later plummeting towards the grass.
Sirius caught Remus quickly, pulling the shorter boy onto his own broom. They flew softly to the ground, Remus even paler than usual as he stared at the hand-me-down broom that lay broken in the grass next to him. "I think that's all for today," came Sirius' comforting voice. Remus bent down and picked up the pieces of his broom, walking back to the castle where he was sure his friends would be waiting. His broom was in two pieces, unusable, though maybe that was a good thing. He didn't really feel like flying anymore.
Remus went to the owlery later that day, the remains of the broomstick tied together with a note. He picked a school owl and sent it off to his parents, hoping his father wouldn't be too upset that his old broom was broken. Maybe, he supposed, his parents would get him a newer, sturdier model. Weeks went by with him just watching in awe as his three friends flew around in the air like pros.
It was merely a month later that Remus got a parcel at breakfast. It was broom shaped, much to his joy. Excitement and curiosity filled him, and he couldn't wait till he got a free period to unwrap the present. Classes that day were spent daydreaming, his mind too distracted to focus on the material they were learning. He was sure he'd even fallen asleep at one point in potions.
Finally, a free period arrived right before dinner, and he rushed to the common room and grabbed his parcel. Though he normally would have been careful with the wrapping, in that moment he couldn't be bothered with keeping the wrapping nice. He tore through the thin paper that wrapped what he was sure was a broom, Sirius and James asking him what type of racing broom he thought his parents would have gotten him. He just laughed along with them, as they conversed.
When he'd gotten a better look at the broom, he just smiled. It was his old, hand-me-down broomstick again, just in better condition than before. There was a note attached, his smile widening as he read it.
Dear Remus,
It was his mother's handwriting.
We're so glad that you've been practicing flying. Your father cast a spell to fix it, and I tried to get it into nicer shape than it had been before. Please try not to break it again, if possible.
Love, Mum.
He was grinning by the end of the letter, feeling nostalgic because of course. It wasn't that his father was poor, per se, more like he didn't want to spend money on something he could easily reuse. Remus had to say, the broom looked much better than it had a month ago, especially since it was no longer rotten or dusty. He looked up at Sirius and James, trying to gauge their reactions.
Both looked shocked, to say the least, though a smile slowly crept onto Sirius' face. James, however, looked lost. Looked thoroughly confused to say the least. His glasses sat slightly crooked on his face, his mouth open as if he wanted to say something, though before he could Sirius dragged Remus by the arm, off towards the Quidditch Pitch.
"We can practice again!" He was practically beaming, Remus hesitantly shook Sirius' hand off his arm.
"I don't know if that's a good idea."
"Why wouldn't it be?"
"You might not remember, but last time I nearly died." Sirius looked down sheepishly, a red tint creeping up his cheeks. There was guilt in his eyes, and suddenly Remus felt horrible for even bringing it up, for saying anything against practicing at all.
"It'll be different this time." Determination burned in Sirius' grey eyes, ones Remus couldn't help but be entranced by. Sirius' face was pleading, almost as if he was begging Remus to agree. A small smile slipped onto Remus' face, as he let out a sigh.
"Fine." A grin broke out onto Sirius' face, before he schooled his features and stared at Remus. They went through the motions, resting the broom on the ground, commanding it into his hand. It was only then that the boy with dirty blonde hair realized something, Sirius didn't have a broom.
That didn't seem to be a problem, not for the brunette anyway, as he told Remus to mount the broom. So he did, though hesitantly.
"Now what?" Remus asked, turning around to see Sirius climbing onto the back of the broom. He tried to hide his shock, though he honestly wasn't sure if he was successful or not. A blush crept onto his cheeks as the taller boy grabbed onto his waist.
"Now we fly." Remus pushed off, trying to distract himself from the closeness they shared. He was surprised to find that he was doing well, gliding through the air without any problems. A laugh slipped past his lips as a bright smile took over his features. He glided down to the ground before embracing Sirius in a tight hug. He tried not to notice the pink that dusted the taller boy's face as he pulled away.
"I did it!" He was ecstatic, grinning from ear to ear.
They practiced like that for another month, before Remus was comfortable flying alone, though if he was honest he didn't want to let go of their closeness too soon. It was a cold October day when Remus decided to join Sirius, James, and Peter, who were out in the pitch playing around. He arrived nervously, old broomstick in hand.
"Moony!" Sirius shouted, drawing the others' attention to him. He waved, walking closer towards the group. James stared at Remus' broom, looking up at him with a smile, mischief in his eyes.
"That thing looks ancient." James said, eyes flitting over the broomstick in Remus' hand. Remus watched as James let out a yelp, Sirius having hit him on the back of his head. The blonde could only let out a laugh as his two friends play-fought, Peter just standing there watching curiously. He looked down at his broom, looking at all the scratch marks and splinters sticking out of it with a smile.
Maybe James wasn't too far off.
