1 Chapter 4: The Practice Session
Harry sat in his dorm, staring out the window for a sign that Hedwig was still alive. No matter how much he tried to think about anything else, she would always pop into his mind. He would have thought that this was a trick of the Dursley's, but he remembered that they had the least sense of humor he'd ever seen. He had to get into a better mood; The Quidditch tournament would start in two hours. The only thing that could ever take his mind of anything bad...including his parents, was Quidditch. He cast a sideways glance to the corner of his four post bed. There stood his firebolt, just leaning against the wall. Maybe a nice ride on his perfect top of the line broom would take his mind of Hedwig and remind him a bit of Sirius. Sirius had given Harry this wonderful broom in his 3rd year to make up for 13 missed birthday presents. It was the best gift Harry had ever received, especially considering the Dursley's gave him old socks for presents. He got up and dressed into some sweat pants and a sweater, which was a good plan because December was a very cold month at Hogwarts. He picked up the firebolt and ran his hand down to the handle. Embossed in beautiful red and gold letters was the word 'firebolt.' He grabbed his wand and threw it in his pocket; he had learned a lesson from not keeping safe care of his wand. He scribbled a note to Ron and Hermione in the common room and headed towards the Quidditch pitch. He would only be able to play for half an hour at most, but the chance to fly again would be extraordinary.
When Harry reached the field, to his surprise, it was deserted. Nobody had come into the stadium to get good seats or anything. Completely and utterly empty. He climbed onto the firebolt, kicked the ground hard, and rose up and up into the cool air. The wind blew his hair about, but he enjoyed the sensation of flying again. After three extraordinarily quick laps of the stadium, Harry began to practice his moves. The Wronski Feint was Harry's favorite maneuver. He would start from way above the pitch, pretend as if he had seen the snitch(the small gold ball that the seeker on each team tied to catch), dive madly toward the ground, and pull out at the last minute. This was particularly successful in throwing the opposing seeker off guard. Once one seeker 'saw' the snitch, for fear, the other would follow. And being particularly talented at Quidditch, and not to mention the Wronski Feint, Harry could pull out at the last second and leave the opposing seeker in quite a predicament.
After Harry had re-perfected all of his moves, he pointed his broomstick down and headed towards the ground. But a sudden jolt of his broom caused him to stop in his tracks. His broom was beginning to rattle and shake, as if it were a washing machine. He pointed his broomstick down again and slowly tried to reach the ground. Again he was unsuccessful, his firebolt was trying to buck him off! Harry foolishly pulled out his wand, which would do nothing, and promptly dropped it due to the jumping of his broom. Now he was stuck on a bucking broom, with no wand, and nobody around to call for help or help him if he fell. His grip on his broom was loosening, he couldn't hold on much longer.
Then after 10 minutes of complete earthquake like movement, Harry lost his grip and flipped upside down on his broom. Now only his interlocking feet were between him and a most excruciating fall, possibly death. The broom continued to buck and eventually untied the wrapped feet from the its handle. With one last yelp, Harry began to plummet towards the hard ground of the Quidditch stadium.
For one quick second, He felt as if he had passed out. When he awoke from this odd feeling, he wasn't in the hospital wing, and he wasn't in his bed. All hopes of the fall being a dream were shot. Instead, he was lying in a big pile of pillows. He had not passed out at all. Rather, he had been saved. Someone had transfigured the ground into a soft pillow like substance. Harry rolled over and glanced around the stadium. Whomever had cursed his broom, and coincidentally saved him would still be in the stands. His eyes looked around and around at the foot of each set of stands. But nobody appeared.
All of a sudden, the thought that his broom had been damaged crossed his mind. He gave up looking for the culprit and the savior, and ran over to his broom. As far as he could see, there was nothing wrong with it. Just a little dirt here and there, and a few twigs on the tail had been slightly bent. As he got up to leave the stadium, there stood Ron and Hermione.
'Oh Harry, Are you all right?!' Hermione squealed as she squeezed him to death in what was supposed to be a hug.
'We saw who did it.' Ron exclaimed, looking confusingly smug considering his best friend had just fallen 60 feet.
'What happened?' Harry groggily replied, peeling Hermione hands from around his neck.
'What happened?! Malfoy was jinxing your broom. We saw the note you left in the common room and came out to watch, its a good thing we got here in time. Hermione saved your life...again.' Ron listed off detail by detail what happened, careful not to leave out anything.
'You saved my life?' Harry was astonished, his best friend had saved him. he was filled with a sense of anger against Malfoy and a sense of gratitude for Hermione.
'Well, I guess....I transfigured the ground into a pillow soft landing ground for you. And just in time. I'm sorry I didn't get here in time to counter the curse Malfoy was putting on your broom. Are you sure your all right?'
'Ya, I'm fine, thanks to you to. Where did Malfoy go? I'll give him a broom, right up the-' Hermione cut Harry off.
'We don't know where he went. After we got here, he saw us run in and took off. If only you had held on just a few seconds longer, the broom would have stopped twitching.' Hermione seemed very sad that she hadn't been able to help at an earlier time. She almost felt guilty.
'Twitching? It was trying to buck me off, just like when Professor Quirrel tried to kill me.' Harry was amazed that his friends were calling it twitching.
'Well it doesn't matter, its not like we can do anything about it. With Dumbledore off helping the Ministry of Magic, there's no chance of getting Malfoy expelled. That bloody nutter Blackson is the worst headmaster Hogwarts has ever seen. Wasn't he a Slytherin?' Ron was right. There was no way to get Malfoy in trouble.
'Yes, I think so.' Hermione could always be counted on to obtain useless information.
'So that explains why he favors Malfoy...that little worm.' Ron was getting really excited again. Harry was worried that Hermione might use the Petrifcus Totalis curse on him again.
'Anyway Harry, you need to go and get your Quidditch gear, the match starts in 45 minutes.'
'But my broom...its all dirty and messed up...' Harry sounded like a little child worried about his toy truck.
'Don't worry Harry, Ron and I will try to fix it up while your getting all of your things. All right?' Hermione always remained calm and used her brain. She was very logical.
'Thanks. I really appreciate it. What would I do without you tow?' Harry began waking towards the changerooms.
'Die?' Ron sarcastically replied.
'Probably, well, I'd better hurry, see you at the match, just leave my broom with your brothers Ron. Bye!' Harry hurried off to get his gear.
'Good Luck!' Hermione called after him. She was beginning to sound more and more like a mother. Ron suspected that she had already had a few kids of her own.
'Let's go get this broom fixed and get good seats.' Ron pulled Hermione off the pitch. They too were had a lot to do before the match.
'Ya all right, you go and get Harry's broom care kit, and I'll fine some cleaning spells in the text book.' Hermione referred to her textbooks like a bible.
'All right, meet you in the common room.' And Ron hurried away while Hermione went to the Library. It was an odd relationship between Ron, Hermione and Harry. But each of them lived for eachother. Together they had stopped Lord Voldemort twice, saved Sirius's life, and helped Harry win the Triwizard Cup. They made quite the team, and they weren't about to change that.
Harry sat in his dorm, staring out the window for a sign that Hedwig was still alive. No matter how much he tried to think about anything else, she would always pop into his mind. He would have thought that this was a trick of the Dursley's, but he remembered that they had the least sense of humor he'd ever seen. He had to get into a better mood; The Quidditch tournament would start in two hours. The only thing that could ever take his mind of anything bad...including his parents, was Quidditch. He cast a sideways glance to the corner of his four post bed. There stood his firebolt, just leaning against the wall. Maybe a nice ride on his perfect top of the line broom would take his mind of Hedwig and remind him a bit of Sirius. Sirius had given Harry this wonderful broom in his 3rd year to make up for 13 missed birthday presents. It was the best gift Harry had ever received, especially considering the Dursley's gave him old socks for presents. He got up and dressed into some sweat pants and a sweater, which was a good plan because December was a very cold month at Hogwarts. He picked up the firebolt and ran his hand down to the handle. Embossed in beautiful red and gold letters was the word 'firebolt.' He grabbed his wand and threw it in his pocket; he had learned a lesson from not keeping safe care of his wand. He scribbled a note to Ron and Hermione in the common room and headed towards the Quidditch pitch. He would only be able to play for half an hour at most, but the chance to fly again would be extraordinary.
When Harry reached the field, to his surprise, it was deserted. Nobody had come into the stadium to get good seats or anything. Completely and utterly empty. He climbed onto the firebolt, kicked the ground hard, and rose up and up into the cool air. The wind blew his hair about, but he enjoyed the sensation of flying again. After three extraordinarily quick laps of the stadium, Harry began to practice his moves. The Wronski Feint was Harry's favorite maneuver. He would start from way above the pitch, pretend as if he had seen the snitch(the small gold ball that the seeker on each team tied to catch), dive madly toward the ground, and pull out at the last minute. This was particularly successful in throwing the opposing seeker off guard. Once one seeker 'saw' the snitch, for fear, the other would follow. And being particularly talented at Quidditch, and not to mention the Wronski Feint, Harry could pull out at the last second and leave the opposing seeker in quite a predicament.
After Harry had re-perfected all of his moves, he pointed his broomstick down and headed towards the ground. But a sudden jolt of his broom caused him to stop in his tracks. His broom was beginning to rattle and shake, as if it were a washing machine. He pointed his broomstick down again and slowly tried to reach the ground. Again he was unsuccessful, his firebolt was trying to buck him off! Harry foolishly pulled out his wand, which would do nothing, and promptly dropped it due to the jumping of his broom. Now he was stuck on a bucking broom, with no wand, and nobody around to call for help or help him if he fell. His grip on his broom was loosening, he couldn't hold on much longer.
Then after 10 minutes of complete earthquake like movement, Harry lost his grip and flipped upside down on his broom. Now only his interlocking feet were between him and a most excruciating fall, possibly death. The broom continued to buck and eventually untied the wrapped feet from the its handle. With one last yelp, Harry began to plummet towards the hard ground of the Quidditch stadium.
For one quick second, He felt as if he had passed out. When he awoke from this odd feeling, he wasn't in the hospital wing, and he wasn't in his bed. All hopes of the fall being a dream were shot. Instead, he was lying in a big pile of pillows. He had not passed out at all. Rather, he had been saved. Someone had transfigured the ground into a soft pillow like substance. Harry rolled over and glanced around the stadium. Whomever had cursed his broom, and coincidentally saved him would still be in the stands. His eyes looked around and around at the foot of each set of stands. But nobody appeared.
All of a sudden, the thought that his broom had been damaged crossed his mind. He gave up looking for the culprit and the savior, and ran over to his broom. As far as he could see, there was nothing wrong with it. Just a little dirt here and there, and a few twigs on the tail had been slightly bent. As he got up to leave the stadium, there stood Ron and Hermione.
'Oh Harry, Are you all right?!' Hermione squealed as she squeezed him to death in what was supposed to be a hug.
'We saw who did it.' Ron exclaimed, looking confusingly smug considering his best friend had just fallen 60 feet.
'What happened?' Harry groggily replied, peeling Hermione hands from around his neck.
'What happened?! Malfoy was jinxing your broom. We saw the note you left in the common room and came out to watch, its a good thing we got here in time. Hermione saved your life...again.' Ron listed off detail by detail what happened, careful not to leave out anything.
'You saved my life?' Harry was astonished, his best friend had saved him. he was filled with a sense of anger against Malfoy and a sense of gratitude for Hermione.
'Well, I guess....I transfigured the ground into a pillow soft landing ground for you. And just in time. I'm sorry I didn't get here in time to counter the curse Malfoy was putting on your broom. Are you sure your all right?'
'Ya, I'm fine, thanks to you to. Where did Malfoy go? I'll give him a broom, right up the-' Hermione cut Harry off.
'We don't know where he went. After we got here, he saw us run in and took off. If only you had held on just a few seconds longer, the broom would have stopped twitching.' Hermione seemed very sad that she hadn't been able to help at an earlier time. She almost felt guilty.
'Twitching? It was trying to buck me off, just like when Professor Quirrel tried to kill me.' Harry was amazed that his friends were calling it twitching.
'Well it doesn't matter, its not like we can do anything about it. With Dumbledore off helping the Ministry of Magic, there's no chance of getting Malfoy expelled. That bloody nutter Blackson is the worst headmaster Hogwarts has ever seen. Wasn't he a Slytherin?' Ron was right. There was no way to get Malfoy in trouble.
'Yes, I think so.' Hermione could always be counted on to obtain useless information.
'So that explains why he favors Malfoy...that little worm.' Ron was getting really excited again. Harry was worried that Hermione might use the Petrifcus Totalis curse on him again.
'Anyway Harry, you need to go and get your Quidditch gear, the match starts in 45 minutes.'
'But my broom...its all dirty and messed up...' Harry sounded like a little child worried about his toy truck.
'Don't worry Harry, Ron and I will try to fix it up while your getting all of your things. All right?' Hermione always remained calm and used her brain. She was very logical.
'Thanks. I really appreciate it. What would I do without you tow?' Harry began waking towards the changerooms.
'Die?' Ron sarcastically replied.
'Probably, well, I'd better hurry, see you at the match, just leave my broom with your brothers Ron. Bye!' Harry hurried off to get his gear.
'Good Luck!' Hermione called after him. She was beginning to sound more and more like a mother. Ron suspected that she had already had a few kids of her own.
'Let's go get this broom fixed and get good seats.' Ron pulled Hermione off the pitch. They too were had a lot to do before the match.
'Ya all right, you go and get Harry's broom care kit, and I'll fine some cleaning spells in the text book.' Hermione referred to her textbooks like a bible.
'All right, meet you in the common room.' And Ron hurried away while Hermione went to the Library. It was an odd relationship between Ron, Hermione and Harry. But each of them lived for eachother. Together they had stopped Lord Voldemort twice, saved Sirius's life, and helped Harry win the Triwizard Cup. They made quite the team, and they weren't about to change that.