Harry and Hermione met in the common room, like they do everday, only to notice a group of first year Gryffindors were pressing against each other to get a glimpse of what they suspected to be the Notice Board.
Not that long after, the young couple found themselves staring at the new notice.
Flying lessons would be starting that Thursday.
And Gryffindor and Slytherin would be learning together.
"Great!" Harry said darkly. "Just what I needed. To make a fool out of myself on a broomstick in front of Malfoy."
"You don't know that!" Replied Hermione. "For all we know you might be to good on a broom they might put you on the Quidditch team!"
"Yeah, now you're just making stuff up. There's no way they'll let a first year get on the team."
"You don't know that!"
"Okay, I don't. But I do know that I've never been on a broom before. I will make a fool out of myself."
"We shall see."
Harry, though, was able to see her uneasiness.
"Are... You okay, Hermione?"
"Yeah, I'm fine!" Harry gave her a disbelieving look. "Ugh. Okay, fine, I'm scared of heights! Happy now?"
She crossed her arms and looked away from him, and he said "Don't worry, Hermione, I'll help you."
She turned back to him with a shocked look on her face. "You will?"
"Of course I will." He held her hand and gave her a comforting squeeze. It became a habit now. "I'll be with you every step of the way."
She smiled warmly at him. "Thank you, Harry."
Thursday came way to fast for Harry's liking, and, before he knew it, he was standing in the clearing with a broomstick beside him on the ground.
Their teacher, Madam Hooch, said "Stick out your right hand over your broom," called Madam Hooch at the front, "and say 'Up!'"
"UP!" everyone shouted.
Harry's broom jumped into his hand at once, but it was one of the few that did. Hermione's had simply rolled over on the ground, and Neville's hadn't moved at all. 'Mabe brooms cab tell when you were afraid..? ' thought Harry, 'Kinda like horses.' there was a quaver in Neville's voice, though, that said only too clearly that he wanted to keep his feet on the ground.
Harry turned to Hermione and said "Psst, Hermione!" Once he got her attention he said "Don't be afraid, clear your mind, and say 'Up!'"
She did exactly that, and the smile she gave him after the broom flew to her hand warmed him to the heart.
Madam Hooch then showed them how to mount their brooms without sliding off the end, and walked up and down the rows correcting their grips.
"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard," said Madam Hooch. "Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle — three — two —"
But Neville, who was nervous and jumpy and frightened of being left on the ground, pushed off hard before the whistle had touched Madam Hooch's lips.
"Come back, boy!" she shouted, but Neville was rising straight up so fast that it looked like a crock of a bottle
Twelve feet, fifteen feet, twenty feet. Harry saw his scared white face look down at the ground falling away, saw him gasp, slip sideways off the broom and..
WHAM! He fell of. 'That looked like it hurt.' Thought Harry. A nasty crack signaled that Neville was not okay at all. His broomstick, though, was still rising higher and higher, and started to drift lazily toward the forbidden forest and out of sight.
Madam Hooch was bending over Neville, her face as white as his.
"Broken wrist," She muttered. "Come on, boy — it's all right, up you get."
She turned to the rest of the class.
"None of you is to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing! You leave those brooms where they are or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quidditch.' Understand! Come on, dear."
Neville, his face tear-streaked, clutching his wrist, hobbled off with Madam Hooch, who had her arm around him.
As soon as they were out of earshot Malfoy burst into laughter.
"Did you see his face, the great lump?"
The other Slytherins joined in.
"Shut up, Malfoy," snapped Parvati Patil.
"Ooh, sticking up for Longbottom, Patil?" said Pansy Parkinson, a hard-faced Slytherin girl. "Never thought you'd like fat little crybabies, Parvati."
"Look!" said Malfoy, darting forward and snatching something out of the grass. "It's that stupid thing Longbottom's gran sent him."
The Remembrall glittered in the sun as he held it up.
"Give that here, Malfoy," said Harry quietly. Everyone stopped talking to watch.
Malfoy smiled nastily.
"I think I'll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find. How about... up a tree?"
"Give it here!" Harry yelled, but Malfoy had leapt onto his broomstick and taken off. He hadn't been lying, he could fly well.
Hovering level with the topmost branches of an oak he called, "Come and get it, Potter!"
Harry grabbed his broom.
"No!" shouted Hermione. "Madam Hooch told us not to move, you'll get us all into trouble."
Harry wanted to ignored her, but her frightened face warmed his heart again. "You have to stand up to bullies, or they'll think it's okay to do it again and again and again."
She had a thoughtful look on her face, but then nodded. Harry then turned back to Malfoy.
He mounted the broom and kicked hard against the ground and up, up he soared. Air rushed through his hair, and his robes whipped out behind him — and in a rush of fierce joy he realized he'd found something he could do without being taught — this was easy, this was wonderful. He pulled his broomstick up a little to take it even higher, and heard screams and gasps of girls back on the ground and an admiring whoop from Ron.
He turned his broomstick sharply to face Malfoy in midair. Malfoy looked stunned.
"Give it here," Harry called, "or I'll knock you off that broom!"
"Oh, yeah?" said Malfoy, trying to sneer, but looking worried.
Harry knew, somehow, what to do. He leaned forward and grasped the broom tightly in both hands, and it shot toward Malfoy like a javelin. Malfoy only just got out of the way in time; Harry made a sharp about-face and held the broom steady. A few people below were clapping.
"No Crabbe and Goyle up here to save your neck, Malfoy," Harry called.
The same thought seemed to have struck Malfoy.
"Catch it if you can, then!" he shouted, and he threw the glass ball high into the air and streaked back toward the ground.
Harry saw, as though in slow motion, the ball rise up in the air and then start to fall. He leaned forward and pointed his broom handle down, next second he was gathering speed in a steep dive, racing the ball. He stretched out his hand...
And caught it.
A foot from the ground but still caught it, just in time to pull his broom straight, and he toppled gently onto the grass with the Remembrall clutched safely in his fist.
"HARRY POTTER!"
He froze and slowly turned to see Professor McGonagall running toward him. He got to his feet, trembling.
"Never, in all my time at Hogwarts —"
Professor McGonagall was almost speechless with shock, and her glasses flashed furiously, "— how dare you — might have broken your neck —"
"It wasn't his fault, Professor —"
"Be quiet, Miss Patil —"
"But Malfoy —"
"That's enough, Mr. Weasley. Potter, follow me, now."
That it. He's gonna get expelled and they'll throw him back to the Durslys.
Out of all the sad and scared looks (and Malfoy's smug smile) he got, Hermione's horrified face made his heart sink into millions of pieces. He mouthed to her 'I'm sorry' and followed McGonagall to the castle.
Professor McGonagall stopped outside a classroom. She opened the door and poked her head inside.
"Excuse me, Professor Flitwick, could I borrow Wood for a moment?"
'Wood?' thought Harry, confused. 'What would she need wood for? To hit me with it?' At that thought, Harry was ready to sprint across the hall.
But Wood turned out to be a person, a burly fifth-year boy who came out of Flitwick's class looking confused.
"Follow me, you two," said Professor McGonagall, and they marched on up the corridor, Wood looking curiously at Harry.
"In here."
Professor McGonagall pointed them into a classroom that was empty except for Peeves, who was busy writing rude words on the blackboard.
"Out, Peeves!" she barked. Peeves threw the chalk into a bin, which clanged loudly, and he swooped out cursing. Professor McGonagall slammed the door behind him and turned to face the two boys.
"Potter, this is Oliver Wood. Wood, I think I've found you a Seeker."