"Now hold your hand over the broom, and say 'UP!'," Madam Hooch instructed.
Neville did exactly that, but it just rolled over on the ground unhelpfully. He looked around nervously and found with relief that many people were having the same problem. Malfoy, of course, had his broom in hand and looked terribly smug; Ron, too, didn't seem to have had any trouble. The actual task achieved, the two of them now seemed to be having some sort of contest revolving around who could be more insulting without actually saying any words. Neville was rather impressed; they were rapidly approaching Gran-levels of disdainfulness. Hermione, to his left, was glaring sternly at her broom, which hadn't moved. Odd; Hermione was usually good at everything.
(Neville continued to have no idea how anyone genuinely believed Muggleborns were inherently inferior; given the lack of Muggleborns in Slytherin, he was starting to suspect that most of the blood purists had actually just never met any.)
"Up?" Neville repeated hesitantly, and nothing happened at all. He looked at the redhead next to him, who was paying him exactly zero attention, and tugged on his sleeve. "Ron, why isn't this working?"
Ron interrupted his glaring match with Malfoy to turn and look at him, startled. "Huh? Oh, uh, you've gotta, I dunno, say it like you mean it?" he offered vaguely, looking puzzled.
"I mean it just fine!" Hermione interjected, arms crossed in frustration.
At this, Ron looked downright delighted. After several weeks of being relentlessly upstaged by the bushy-haired brightest-witch-of-their-age, actually winning at something was clearly the highlight of his current existence. "What, you can't do it? Wow, something I'm actually better at than you?" He grinned. "Never thought it'd happen, did you?"
"You've also got chess," said Dean helpfully, as Hermione flushed red with annoyance and turned away again.
"Shut up and help us," added Seamus.
Then, for the first time, Ron noticed he'd been the only Gryffindor to succeed yet. "Oh," he said in mild surprise, glancing around. He tried again to explain. "Er - well - I think brooms can tell if you're scared of them, right? You have to, I dunno, really want to fly. That's what Charlie said."
"Who's Charlie?" asked Dean curiously, while Hermione frowned at her broom and informed it sternly that she wanted very much to fly. This did not have any marked effect on the stubbornly grounded vehicle, and she gritted her teeth and visibly stopped herself from demanding more answers from Ron. Lavender and Parvati giggled at her.
Meanwhile, Seamus explained, "Charlie's his brother," having already acquired this information through social osmosis. "Lee Jordan said he was one of the greatest Seekers Gryffindor ever - "
"Yeah," interrupted Ron, who looked a bit like he didn't really want to hear more about how awesome his brother was. Neville, who frequently felt inadequate in the face of people telling stories about his parents, could rather sympathize. Ron said hastily, "Anyway, go on, try it."
Eventually, with Ron's vague and amused but reasonably helpful encouragement, all the Gryffindors had managed to summon brooms into their hands, even Hermione, who Neville suspected had been listening even though she was pretending to ignore Ron. Neville, although he'd tried to convince himself (and his broom) otherwise, was already feeling a creeping sense of doom. I'm going to fall, he was thinking, feeling sick to his stomach, I'm going to fall and everyone's going to laugh -
"Mount your brooms!" barked Madam Hooch, and he did, and he tried not to let on that his entire body was shaking. I'm going to fall, I'm going to fall, I'm going to hurt myself and everyone will laugh and tell me how useless I am and Gran will be horribly disappointed -
He was hardly listening as the instructor corrected various people, but when she reached him he jumped almost guiltily when she spoke. "Both hands on the broom, Longbottom," she told him, "no, here, one above the other so you have proper leverage." It took her barely two minutes to fix him, but to Neville it felt like an eternity during which everyone was staring at him. At least Ron was the only Gryffindor who laughed. Eventually, finally, she moved on to the rest, and Neville tried very hard not to move so that he wouldn't be wrong again.
"Now, on the count of three, kick off from the ground and rise, slowly, to about twenty feet, and then come back down," Madam Hooch instructed loudly, and then repeated this twice more until she was sure everyone had heard. Neville thought his heart must be beating so loudly that everyone could hear it.
"One - "
Merlin, I'm going to fall -
"Two -
I'm going to die -
"Three!"
He kicked off and started rising, quickly, too quickly, out of the group of broomsticks, and he wanted to stop but the broom kept going. Neville gave a horrified squeak and clung to the broomstick, begging it to sink. It ignored his wishes.
"Come back, boy!" shouted Madam Hooch.
"I'm tryyiiiing," he gasped, his voice sounding terribly squeaky and tearful. And then there was a terrible lurching in his stomach and nothing was holding him up anymore, and then sharp pain as he hit the ground.
"Hey, look, it's Longbottom's stupid toy - "
Ron was arguing the merits of the Chudley Cannons to Seamus, who was a diehard Kenmare Kestrals fan, while Parvati spoke sharply at Pansy Parkinson (with whom, Lavender explained quietly to Dean, she had been friends until they were Sorted into opposing Houses). All Gryffindor conversation paused when the sound of Draco Malfoy's drawl cut through the air. The smug blond Slytherin was tossing Neville's Remembrall up and down in his hand, looking delighted. "Oy!" said Ron angrily, "you give that back!"
"Hmmm," said Draco in mock thoughtfulness, "no, I don't think I will." Then, as an idea occurred to him, his whole face lit up with malice, and he picked up his broomstick. "Come and get it, Weasel!" he laughed mockingly as he shot into the air. The Gryffindors all looked at each other nervously; Malfoy might be a smug little snot, but he was a good flyer.
It took Ron about three seconds of fuming before he picked up his own broom and mounted it. "Ron, no!" hissed Hermione, sounding absolutely scandalized. "Weren't you listening, you could get expelled- "
"Oh, hush," said Seamus dismissively, waving a hand, "he won't really," as Ron leapt into the air snarling.
"But - " began Hermione, still alarmed, "but Professor Hooch said - "
Parvati gave Hermione a rather extraordinarily condescending look. "Honestly," she said, rolling her eyes, "for a know-it-all, you really don't know anything." Then she was distracted, as Lavender tugged excitedly on her sleeve and pointed up at the sky, and consequently she missed Hermione's hurt expression entirely. (Hermione did not try again to intervene.) Meanwhile, Parvati's jaw dropped as she followed her friend's line of sight.
"Blimey," said Dean, in a tone which suggested he wasn't totally sure whether he should be concerned or deeply impressed. Ron and Malfoy's argument seemed to have devolved quite quickly into an attempt to wrestle each other off of their brooms, and they were descending rather rapidly out of the sky. Ron had got Malfoy into a headlock and was trying to get at the hand holding the Remembrall, but was failing to prevent the Slytherin from elbowing him repeatedly in the ribcage. As they descended back into earshot, the sounds of yelping reached the students on the ground.
"Oh, honestly," said Tracey disdainfully, frowning at the brawl. Daphne nudged her with an elbow, making a warning face that said don't look at the Malfoy like that; failing to pretend Draco Malfoy was perfect could get you in a lot of trouble, in Slytherin.
But perfect he was not; shortly the two boys were rolling around on the ground punching each other, and everyone else was exchanging nervous glances and trying to decide whether to intervene. The Slytherins seemed to think Malfoy might hex them if they interfered, and the Gryffindors had noticed that they were outnumbered nine to six even if they counted Hermione, who was unlikely to participate in a fight. Seamus and Dean had just barely decided they were going to try to help Ron when a voice cut through everyone's deliberations like a knife.
"Mr. Weasley! Mr. Malfoy! Stop that at once!"
It was McGonagall.
The two brawling first-years separated themselves in a sheepish hurry. Both were covered in rapidly blooming bruises and dirt, Malfoy's nose was bloody, and Ron had blood tricking slowly down his cheek from a cut across his forehead. Malfoy said, "Weasley started i - " and Ron interrupted him angrily to object "No I di - ", and then they were both abruptly silenced by a glare from the formidable Transfiguration professor.
"Silence, the both of you," she said darkly, "and come with me."
Meekly, the two boys followed, shooting each other furious glares; but Ron had gone only about two steps before he paused, and turned, and threw the Remembrall towards the group of Gryffindors, causing a flurry of shocked sounds from the Slytherins who hadn't realized he'd got it away from Malfoy. Then Ron resumed following McGonagall, grinning victoriously. In a flurry of flailing and yelping, Seamus and Dean managed between them to get hold of the Remembrall before it hit the ground, and resolved not to mention to Ron or Neville that they'd nearly dropped it.
(Later, they heard that Ron and Malfoy had gotten a month's detention and each lost twenty points, but as Ron had broken Draco Malfoy's nose and returned Neville's Remembrall unbroken, he called it a success, and remained in a rather good mood for weeks.)