Chapter Four
It was about a week later when Draco and I were sitting in the Great Hall eating breakfast when hundreds of owls flew in through the rafters. I recognized Fatigo immediately as he flew over to us with Draco's owl, almost as if they'd become best friends as well. As both landed, I grabbed the big, lumpy envelope from Fatigo's mouth. As I broke it open, he began nibbling at my bacon.
"Mother says hi," Draco read from his letter as he bit the head off of a chocolate frog, "As does Father."
"My parents say hi too," I replied, letting my eye scan over the parchment in my hands.
It basically said that they missed me and couldn't wait to see me during the holidays, which I doubted was sincere. They congratulated me on making Slytherin and asked about my classes. They also sent several pumpkin pasties (my absolute favorite sweet).
And by 'they', I really mean Mother. Father had always seemed to hate me, ever since I was born. I didn't know why, but no matter what I did to try and make him like me, nothing changed between us.
He was even starting to become hostile towards Mother too. In fact, he seemed to dislike everyone except the Malfoys or his old Death Eater friends. As I'd been told, that's why he was so sour. Mother said he was a different person before the Dark Lord fell, but I suspected there was a little more to it than that.
"Have you heard," Draco interrupted my thoughts, "that we have to take flying lessons with the Gryffindors too?"
"Ugh," I groaned, "Thanks for reminding me. Why can't we have a class with Ravenclaw or something? At least then we'd be guaranteed to get something done."
"I know," he agreed before glancing at the Gryffindor table and squinting. After a long moment, he asked, "What's Longbottom got?"
"Who?" I asked, following Draco's gaze. There was a chunky-looking kid holding up a glass ball that seemed to captivate everyone. The ball filled with smoke before turning a bloody red. Draco laughed.
"It's a Remembrall," he stated, standing up, "Let's go."
I quickly gathered my stuff and followed him over to Longbottom. As we walked by, Draco snatched it out of the kid's hands. Harry and Weasley were both on their feet in an instant, but Professor McGonagall appeared just as quickly.
"What's going on?" she asked.
"Malfoy's got my Remembrall, Professor," Longbottom whined.
Draco's eyes narrowed on Longbottom. His upper lip curled in disgust before he turned to McGonagall.
"Just looking," he snarled as he dropped the glass orb on the table.
Then he grabbed my arm and pulled me towards the door.
"I've never seen one of those before," I commented once we were out of the Great Hall.
"That's because we're too responsible to need one."
"What does it do?"
"Tells you when you've forgotten something," Goyle, who'd been following us with Crabbe, interjected.
"You think you know more than me?" Draco challenged, turning to look at him.
"No. I just used to have one…lost it though."
Later that day was our flying lessons. It was a beautiful day with a light, warm breeze. It was beginning to cool down from summer, unfortunately. It would be autumn in a flash. I loved summer, and while autumn was enjoyable, it just took us closer to winter.
All the first years had looked forward to flying lessons since the beginning of the year. Almost all of them bragged about flying prior to school as well. I almost knew Draco's story by heart, he told it so often, and not a word of it was true. But I couldn't talk. I made up stories too.
However, while Draco always seemed to be narrowly escaping muggle helicopters, I would be flying through an enchanted, green, and luscious forest while dodging tree after tree. The difference between us and the others, though, was that we truly had flown before. Over the summer, Draco and I took turns on his father's old broomstick. We only flew around the house once or twice; nothing like the stories we told.
"Well, what are you all waiting for?" asked a woman with the eyes of a hawk and short, gray hair, "Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up!"
The Gryffindors that had just arrived quickly darted to a space beside an empty broom. Excited, Draco and I had arrived early and were already standing next to our brooms. And predictably, the Gryffindors had arrived just barely on time.
"Stick your right hand over the broom and say 'up'," Madam Hooch ordered. As everyone obeyed, Draco's broom shot straight into his hand, as had mine and Harry Potter's.
But as I looked around, I noticed that we were among the few who were holding our brooms already. Even Hermione's hadn't done more than roll around on the ground. I waited for at least five minutes until everyone was holding their broom. Then, our teacher showed us how to mount them. She walked around, checking our hold, but she stopped in front of Draco.
"Your grip is wrong," she informed and proceeded to show him the proper way.
"Impossible. I've been doing it this way for years!"
"Well, then you've been doing it wrong for years."
Once she moved on, I began giggling. In response, Draco scowled and elbowed me.
"Now," Madam Hooch called, "when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard. Keep your broom steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle. Three, two-."
But Longbottom was already in the air. Draco and I watched in awe as he rose about twenty feet in the air.
"Come back, boy!"
Draco's mouth curved into a smirk. Suddenly, Longbottom tilted forward, probably trying to land, but instead slipped off the broom and landed on the ground with a thud and a sickening crack.
I watched as Draco bit his lip to keep from laughing, but I didn't find it funny. Neville, I think his name was, got up and was ushered to the hospital wing for a broken wrist. I didn't know whether to feel bad for him or to be annoyed because this was now the second wasted class period because of Gryffindor irresponsibility. As soon as they were gone, however, Draco started chuckling.
"Did you see his face, the great lump?" he asked the class.
"Shut up, Malfoy," snapped an Indian girl as some other Slytherins began laughing.
Pansy Parkinson shot a snarky response back to her, but I was watching Draco's eyes, which were fixed on something in the grass a few feet away. He darted forward and scooped it up before I could even realize what it was.
"Look!" he said holding it up, "It's that stupid thing Longbottom's gran got him.
"Give it here, Malfoy," Harry snarled, stepping forward. Draco glanced over and smiled mischievously.
"I think I'll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find. How about…up a tree?" he sneered.
"Draco, just give it back. It's not worth it," I sighed, but he didn't listen. Instead, he mounted his broom and took off. He hovered above us and called for Harry to go and get the Remembrall.
"Draco, come down!" I yelled, "You'll be expelled!"
At the same time, Hermione had been trying to convince Harry not to take Draco's bait, but it was useless as he took off also.
"Boys," I huffed in annoyance.
"Tell me about it," the girl next to me agreed before turning to face me, her hand outstretched, "My name's Hermione Granger, by the way."
"Raven Ashe," I replied, shaking her hand.
"You seem different than the other Slytherins. Nicer."
I opened her mouth to say something – maybe to defend the other Slytherins or maybe to thank her for the compliment – but there was a collective gasp from the class as Draco threw the Remembrall.
"Damnit, Draco," I muttered under my breath, charging towards him as he landed.
He watched as Potter flew, trying to catch the glass ball. I meant to yell at him, but I was distracted as Harry grabbed the orb out of the air and zoomed back into the grass. Most of the class cheered, but one solemn voice cut through the crowd.
"Harry Potter!"
We all turned around to see Professor McGonagall. She sounded out of breath and stumbled over her words, which was odd seeing as I considered her one of the most level-headed people I'd met, but she eventually told Harry to follow her. After they left, I turned back to Draco, who was smirking triumphantly.
"Do you think he'll get expelled?" he asked.
I glared at him and didn't answer. Instead, I began scolding.
"What is wrong with you?" I snapped, "You could have been getting expelled too. Or you could have been joining Longbottom in the hospital wing."
"Aww, were you worried about me?" he teased, smiling. I whacked him on the arm.
"This isn't funny. You could have gotten in serious trouble."
"Just calm down, Raven. I'm fine."
I scowled at him and walked off. If the class wasn't over, I assumed that Madame Hooch wouldn't be that sadden by one more missing student.
