Hello, my awaiting fans! Not that you exist. Sigh...
Anyways, I can always pretend. A sort little thing about Harry's first broom lesson. Enjoy!
I am so thankful that I looked out the window when I did.
I had a short free period right then, and I was grading papers. Ugh. Let me tell you that nothing is more dreary than grading the Gryffindor first-year's poorly written essays about turning matchsticks into needles. The only decent one was Hermione Granger's. She was exceptionally bright, and I could already tell she would be an accomplished witch when she graduated. I put the grade at the top of her essay, thinking about what encouraging little "Nice job", or "Good work", to add, when something flickered at the corner of my vision. I glanced out the window.
James Potter was diving, from fifty feet, racing towards a round, red, snitch-shaped object- wait. No. That was Harry Potter. Harry Potter, a first year, diving from fifty feet? Oh, no. He'd kill himself. I let out a profanity and pointed my wand out the window, ready to perform a cushioning spell- but it was too late. He was less than a meter from the ground, he was about to smash to bits, oh no...
But he didn't. At the last possible second, he pulled up from the dive with the practiced grace of his father. I was amazed. He was a natural! In fact, the only thing going on in my head was that he would make an amazing seeker, maybe save our quidditch team! And Lord knows, we need a lucky break. Severus is absolutely unbearable when Slytherin wins.
I rushed outside, remembering at the last minute that I was the authority figure and needed to act like it. Inwardly, I was dancing, not like I'd actually participate in such frivolities. I hadn't felt this good since that halloween night, eleven years ago...
So, whadd'ya think? Am I a disgrace? Did I get something wrong? If anything is bad, TELL ME! Or, if you love it, TELL ME! Yup. Press that little blue link right there.