Broomsticks
Hermione screwed up her face in concentration, she held her hand out over the broom and shouted
"Up!"
It rolled over on the floor once and then resumed what it had been doing for the past hour, staying perfectly still. She slumped down onto the floor and buried her head in her hands. Both Harry and Ron had mastered riding a broom, even Neville had managed to stay airbourne long enough to fall off and be sent to the hospital wing. Her broom simply refused to budge. It wasn't even the broom either, she'd tried out all the ones in the first year broom closet. Strictly speaking she wasn't supposed to be using the brooms outside flying lesson hours, her mind had eventually settled though, on the thought that if they hadn't wanted the brooms to be used, they should at least have protective enchantments on them. Instead the only thing standing between her and flying, other than a complete lack of natural talent and ability, had been a locked door. It hadn't remained locked for long.
She took the broom in her hands and spoke out loud
"Look I know you don't want to move for me. You'll never know how good a flier I am if you don't try though so please, just this once, move a little bit?"
She placed the broom back on the ground, took a step back, closed her eyes and said
"Up!"
Nothing.
With a sigh, she admitted defeat and resigned herself to a life of reading about flying. She was sure that she preferred her feet firmly on the ground anyway.
