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Chapter Six
Flying
Severus Snape stared down his hooked nose at the young boy he had set to scrubbing out cauldrons for his Saturday evening's detention. He had purposely set the time spot aside so he would be alone with Faykan Undol, so he could study him more closely and figure out the boy's background. If he could get the boy to just let slip one or two close secrets, Severus was sure he would be able, not only to settle his own discomfort with Mr. Undol, but push the fact that he was just an average student with some small magical talents to the Headmaster.
Faykan looked up at Severus for about the seventh time since he'd arrived twenty minutes ago for his punishment, and grinned knowingly at the Potions Master, as if he was aware of what Snape was thinking. 'Hmm, perhaps it is time to start pressing on the matter at hand.' Severus thought to himself. Another look and grin from Undol; did he truly know what he was thinking? Severus knew that it took great power to become a legilimens, but he severally doubted that this eleven year old could be that powerful at his age.
Walking over to inspect the current cauldron that Undol had on resting on the floor, tipped on its side while he cleaned the outer rims, as it was coated in spilt potion that some student had carelessly allowed to bubble over, Severus smirked and commented:
"You've missed a spot, Mr. Undol."
"I'm aware that I've missed the spot under the handle, Professor, I was making sure that you were keeping your perfect observational prowess sharp when it came to cauldrons." Faykan replied with yet another grin at the Potions Master.
Snape, raised an eyebrow, had the boy actually known that he had been looking at that exact spot or was he just giving him more of his cheek?
After several awkward moments Severus spoke again. "So," he tried, with a quieter, silkier voice, "the other professors seem to think that you are something of a prodigy. However, I have yet to see anything to imply that you are anything better than an ordinary, simpleminded Gryffindor." Severus hoped to prick the boy's ego, provoke him; making it all the easier to draw hidden knowledge from him. But Faykan, never taking his eyes off the cauldron he was still cleaning, coolly replied in a tone worthy of the Head of Slytherin's admiration, "Well, clearly you haven't been paying attention to Harry's progress in your class then, sir, or even Ron Weasley's for that matter, not that I'm going to take all the credit for either of them, but I did, at least, give them the initial push to study consistently before classes."
'Ah, so that's how Potter knew the answers to my questions,' thought Severus, though still not impressed with this boy however. The actual truth was that Potter had been doing admirably in Severus' classes. Ever since that first lesson, Potter had chosen to work closely with Draco Malfoy whenever they were set to brew, and Severus couldn't in good conscience pull the two boys apart. Not only was Potter improving dramatically, but Draco seemed to be drifting away from the mould his father so painstakingly created for the young Slytherin.
Figuring a different tact might be in order, Severus stopped the boy by grabbing his arm and spinning him to face him, Severus spoke in a cold icy tone, dripping venom with every word.
"You may think that you have the entire school wrapped around your finger, boy, but I can see right through you, so…" As he spoke, Severus pressed the boy's mind softly with legilimency. Since he wasn't using his wand, the Potions Master couldn't probe as deeply as he would have liked, but he presumed that surface thoughts would be sufficient when combined with the threats he was implying to Undol.
"What is your real name?" Severus questioned.
"Faykan Undol, sir" came the nervous reply
"How did you force the sorting hat to put you in Gryffindor after it started to call out Slytherin?"
"I told it I refused to be separated from my friends, sir." The boy's voice was shaking slightly as Severus clutched his arm tightly. He would have loosened it, not truly wanting to harm the lad, but he needed the boy to fear for his safety to ensure the truth. Undol's thoughts were slippery, and Severus was having a difficult time trying to pin anything down that was of importance.
"Don't. Lie. To me,"
"I'm not lying, sir." Faykan replied softly, and Severus was surprised when he couldn't read anything definite from the surface thoughts of the boy. If anything, he mused, the boy's thoughts were shrouded to a degree, as if he was being screened from Undol's more private feelings.
Scowling down at Undol, Severus finally let him go and walked back to his desk. He sat there, just watching the boy for the rest of his two hour detention, and could of swore that despite the small traces of fear he could detect, the boy was actually humming to himself as he worked. Soon the boy starting singing softly, and Severus couldn't believe what he heard.
The bells tolled at her passing, and I wept tears of blood.
The good life is so fleeting, and destiny is so cruel.
My heart is tossed in a sea of pain, and I know that I am alone.
She lies cold in her coffin, and all my joy has gone. [1]
~~Sina tea kirma : This is a line break~~
Draco Malfoy was again perusing his now tri-weekly roving of Hogwarts castle, having finally decided to limit his wanderings after the incident with Mrs. Norris. He was currently walking down the seventh floor; passing an ugly tapestry depicting the unfortunate Barnabas the Barmy as he was trying to teach trolls the ballet, when Draco was almost pounced upon by something black with streaks of grey. Falling to the floor in surprise, he could only register the grey black tail scurrying into a room across the hall that Draco could have sworn wasn't there before. Getting to his feet, he walked over to the door and pushed it open. Inside was a plain room with no other windows or doors, and in the center of the room, staring at him with its bright blue eyes, was the exact same fox that had rescued him from Filch's cat a week ago. Kneeling down, Draco held his hand toward the fox, softly talking to it, hoping to calm its panicked look,
"Hey there little fellow, it's alright, I'm not going to hurt you." At first the fox did nothing, but Draco persisted and ever so slowly, it finally crept toward Draco's hand, sniffing every few steps. It was actually quite large for a fox, with a perfect thick black coat, mixed with grey streaks on its back beginning past its head, traveling down its back to the end of its tail, intersecting every so often. The fox's legs were also a dark grey. When the fox finally got close enough to him, Draco cautiously, not wanting to scare it away, reached over and slowly stroked the fox behind its large ears.
At that, the fox seemed to relax immensely, making a soft mewling noise as Draco touched it. It stepped forward until it was brushing against Draco's legs, prompting him to sit down and play with the fox's soft fur. Finally, Draco summoned enough courage to try and pick the fox up off the ground, and was surprised when it didn't react. If anything the fox just squirmed into a more comfortable position against Draco's chest as he held the small animal. Draco felt very comfortable with the animal's weight in his arms, and he started to walk out of the room in order to continue his walk with his new animal friend.
As he left, he noticed that the door of the room he was in had vanished, and therefore, he noted its location for further investigation later. The fox squirmed again in Draco's arms, and Draco set it on its feet again, however it didn't dash away like he thought it might have, but instead the fox walked to the end of the corridor, twitched its ears, and looked back at Draco, as if saying 'alls clear, come on'. Perplexed, Draco followed the fox until it led him, safely, back to the Slytherin common room, again, at around one in the morning.
Before saying the password to get back inside, Draco kneeled down to pet the fox one more time. "You think I might see you again soon, little friend?" he asked the fox, who just brushed him with its head in an affectionate way, which Draco took as a possible affirmative. Giving the small creature one soft squeeze around the neck, Draco said the password and disappeared inside the common room and went straight to bed.
~~Sina tea kirma : This is a line break~~
Harry never believed that anyone could hate him more than the Dursleys, but that was before he met Theodore Nott. Thankfully, he only had Potions with the Slytherins, so he didn't have to deal with the boy's snarky comments, and overall rude behavior. That was until Ron pointed out to Harry and Faykan that flying lessons would be starting on Thursday, and Gryffindor and Slytherin would be learning together.
"Typical," Harry said darkly, "Just what I always wanted, to make a fool of myself on a broomstick in from of Nott."
During the next couple of Potion lessons, Nott had taken every possible opportunity to mock and sabotage the Gryffindors, Faykan and Harry especially. And what was worse was that it seemed that Snape completely ignored anything the Slytherins did. If anything, he was worse, constantly swooping around his classroom like an overgrown bat and deriding all efforts of the Gryffindors in his class, much to the amusement of Nott and his gang. Outside of Snape's classroom, Nott was limited mainly to rude comments and the occasional hex across a corridor. So, in Harry's mind, this was just going to be another opportunity for the Slytherin boy to taunt him.
"You don't know that you'll make a fool of yourself." Ron said reasonably. "Anyway, I know Draco's always going on about how good he is at Quidditch; maybe well finally see some proof?"
Draco certainly did like to talk about flying a lot. Whenever they were together he complained loudly about first years never getting on the house Quidditch teams and told long, boastful stories that always seemed to end with him narrowly escaping Muggles in helicopters. He wasn't the only one, though; the way Seamus Finnigan told it, he'd spent most of his childhood zooming around the countryside on his broomstick. Even Ron would tell anyone who'd listen about the time he'd almost hit a hang glider on Charlie's old broom. Most everyone from wizarding families talked about Quidditch constantly.
Both Neville and Hermione seemed to be very nervous about the upcoming flying lessons, Neville because he was very accident prone, Hermione because it wasn't a skill you could learn by reading a book. At breakfast on Thursday she bored all within earshot stupid with flying tips she'd gotten out a library book. Neville was hanging on every word, desperate for anything that might help him hang onto his broomstick later, but everyone else was pleased when she was interrupted by the arrival of the mail.
Harry noticed that Faykan hadn't had a single letter since Hagrid's note from week before, and apparently so had Nott. Harry hadn't said anything personally, as he'd never gotten any mail since arriving at Hogwarts.
"Oh, no mail again today, Undol," Nott sneered as he was passing the Gryffindor table, "One would think that you weren't cared about."
Nott always had his family's large screech owl bringing him packages of sweets and things from home, which he liked to open gloatingly at the Slytherin table.
"Well, Nott, I don't need care packages from home to remind me that my family hasn't forgotten that I exist, unlike you." Faykan replied with a smirk.
Nott was about to retort, when a barn owl swooped down, dropping a package to Neville from his grandmother. Everyone stopped to watch as he opened the package, to reveal a glass ball the size of a large marble, which seemed to be full of white smoke.
"Oh look," Dean Thomas said, "Neville's got a Remembrall."
"I've read about those," added Hermione, "When the smoke turns red, it means that you've forgotten something."
And indeed Hermione was correct, as the white smoke turned scarlet in Neville's hand. As Neville mentioned the difficulty of remembering what he had forgotten, Nott snatched the Remembrall out of his hand.
Harry and Ron jumped to their feet. They were half hoping for a reason to confront Nott, but Professor McGonagall, who had the gift of foreseeing trouble as it was brewing, was there in a flash.
"What's going on?"
"Nott's got my Remembrall, Professor."
Scowling, the Slytherin boy quickly dropped the glass ball back onto the table.
"Just having a look," he said, and he strutted away, with Crabbe and Goyle hot on his heels.
Late in the afternoon, Harry and the rest of the Gryffindor first years hurried down onto the grounds for their first flying lesson. It was indeed a pleasant day, clear skies that seemed perfect for flying. As they neared the area they were told to meet Madam Hooch, the flying teacher, they found the Slytherin's already there, milling about the twenty or so broomsticks lying in neat lines on the ground.
Finally, after a few seconds of waiting, Madam Hooch arrived. She had short grey hair and strange yellow eyes that resembled a hawk's.
"Well, what are you all waiting for?" she barked at them, "Everyone stand by a broomstick, right side of your left handed and vice-versa. Come on, hurry up"
Harry walked over to the left side of a broom, and Faykan and Ron took the brooms on either side of him, Faykan taking the right hand side of his broom. Harry momentarily glanced down at his broom. It was very old and some of the twigs stuck out at odd angles.
"Stick your wand hand over your broom," Madam Hooch called at the front, "and say 'Up!'"
"Up!" everyone shouted in reply.
Harry's broom leaped into his hand at once, as did Faykan's, though not nearly as quickly as Harry's had. Looking around, Harry noticed that theirs were only some of the very few that had done so. Hermione Granger's had simply rolled over on the ground, and Neville's hadn't moved at all, probably responding to the quaver in Neville's voice, which clearly stated that he wanted to keep his feet on the ground.
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. Ron was delighted when she told Draco he'd been doing it wrong for years, while Faykan simply coughed, suppressing a snigger.
"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard," Madam Hooch explained. "Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, then lean forward slightly, and touch back down again. On my whistle; three, two…"
But Neville, 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 down this instant, boy!" She shouted, but Neville was shooting straight up and away from the rest of them like a rocket. He went further and further, until Harry saw him look back at the ground, terrified, and he slipped sideways off his broom, crashing to the ground with a nasty thud followed by a sick cracking sound.
The entire class raced over to where Neville had fallen, but Faykan reached him first. By the time Madam Hooch had arrived, Faykan had immobilized Neville's arm with a quickly muttered spell, and she bent over him.
"Nicely done Mr. Undol," she said quickly to Faykan before as she studied Neville's hand, "Broken wrist," Harry heard her mutter. "Come on boy, it's going to be fine, up you get."
She then 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.' Come on, dear."
Neville allowed her to lead him back toward the castle, clutching his wrist and allowing Madam Hooch to support him slightly.
No sooner were they out of earshot than Nott burst into laughter.
"Did you see his face?"
The other Slytherins, save Draco, joined in.
"Look!" said Nott after a few minutes of laughter, and he darted forward and snatched 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, Nott," said Harry quietly. Everyone stopped talking to watch.
Nott smiled nastily.
"No, I think it'll be more fun if I leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find," he said coldly, mounting his broom and kicking off, "How about on the roof?" he laughed as he soared upward and away from the other students.
Harry grabbed up his broom, just as Hermione Granger tried to stop him.
"Harry, no way, you heard what Madam Hooch said, besides, you don't even know how to fly…" but he ignored her. He mounted the broom and kicked off. The air rushed through his hair, and his robes whipped out behind him, and it suddenly occurred to Harry, this was something he could do without being taught. It was easy, and it felt wonderful. Harry soared up to Nott and turned his broomstick to face him. Nott had clearly not been expecting Harry to take up his challenge.
"Give it here," Harry called at him, "or I'll knock you off your broom!"
"Oh, really?" Nott replied, trying to look smug, but failing miserably.
Somehow, Harry knew exactly what he needed to do. Leaning forward, he shot toward Nott like an arrow. The Slytherin barley managed to maneuver out of the way in time; Harry made an abrupt turn and faced the now white faced Nott again. He heard gasps and screams from girls below and excited whoops from Ron and Faykan.
Nott looked extremely worried. He seemed to ponder his next course of action for a moment, then called out, "If you want it so bad, Potter, catch it if you can, then," and threw the Remembrall as hard as he could and streaked back to the ground.
Harry saw the light glinting off the small glass ball as it flew through the air. Putting on a large boost of speed, he took off after it. Leaning forward, he dived after the ball. Moments before it hit the ground, Harry grabbed it and flipped backward with his broom, coming to a steady stop a few feet above the ground and landing with the Remembrall clutched safely in his fist.
"HARRY POTTER!"
'Oh no,' thought Harry as he saw Professor McGonagall hurrying toward him.
~~Sina tea kirma : This is a line break~~
Draco saw the entire aerial confrontation from his position at the back of the Slytherin group. Harry was absolutely amazing on a broom; he made flying look like an art form. Draco admitted to himself that he could probably never learn to fly that well in his entire lifetime, but if anyone asked him about it he would vehemently deny it. At the sight of Professor McGonagall calling Harry over to her, Draco's heart sank for his sort-of friend. Harry was most assuredly in deep trouble now.
Draco hurried over to Ron and Faykan as Harry was led away by the Head of Gryffindor, much to the amusement of Nott and the other Slytherins.
"Hey," Draco said to them as he arrived, "How bad is it gonna be you think?" he said hopefully.
"Probably pretty bad," Ron said dejectedly, "She wouldn't even let any of us explain why Harry was in the air, and everyone knows McGonagall is stricter on us than anyone else."
"Oh dear," Draco murmured. "I do hope he doesn't get expelled, if it means anything to you guys." He added reassuringly.
"So do we, Draco, so do we…" Faykan commented as the returned slowly to the castle.
~~Sina tea kirma : This is a line break~~
At dinner, Draco saw that Harry was still in the castle, and he hurried over to the Gryffindor table to find out what had happened after he had been lead away by Professor McGonagall. He arrived just as Harry was finishing explaining to Ron and Faykan.
"I start training next week," he had just said to them both. "Only don't tell anyone, Wood wants to keep it a secret."
"What's a secret Harry?" Draco asked, hopeful. "Please tell me you weren't expelled." He added holding his breath slightly.
"Harry isn't going to be expelled, Draco," Faykan assured, and then lowered his voice to a whisper so that only Draco Harry and Ron could hear him "As to the secret, McGonagall was so impressed with Harry's flying, that she took him to see Oliver Wood, captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, and Harry got made seeker."
"No way," Draco said in wonder, "but, first years never make their house teams," turning to Harry, who only smiled, he continued slightly breathless, "that would make you the youngest seeker in a…"
"Century, according to Wood," Harry finished for him.
Just then, Fred and George Weasley came into the Great Hall, Draco could never tell the red head twins apart, and after they spotted Harry, hurried over to the four Gryffindors and one Slytherin. They shot daggers at Draco, until Faykan jabbed one of them in the stomach and sent them a look, "Hey well done Harry, Woods just told us." One of the twins whispered to Harry. "We're on the team too, beaters." The twins then started rattling off about the Quidditch cup with Harry and Ron, and while Draco was content to just watch, Faykan nudged his arm and inclined his head to the entrance hall.
Curious, Draco followed him out and down the stairs into the dungeons. As Faykan led him into an unused Potions classroom, Draco wondered how it was the Gryffindor knew the layout of the dungeons so well. When Draco had closed the door to the classroom, he turned to find Faykan lounging on one of the stools, leaning it on two legs with his back to the unused teacher's desk.
"So, Draco," he began, "As you no doubt are wondering why I've led us down here, so I'll get straight to the point. I'd like to ask you a few questions about Theodore Nott."
Whatever Draco was thinking, that hadn't been it. "Um, ok." He replied slowly. Draco proceeded then to tell Faykan all he knew about his fellow Slytherin, about how he was raised by his elderly father after his mother had died.
"Draco, is Nott's father a Death Eater?" Faykan asked bluntly after Draco had mentioned the amount of time Mr. Nott had spent around his father's manor.
"I don't know… maybe?" Draco answered, truthfully. "I couldn't say for certain, I was never allowed to be in the room when my father entertained certain guests."
That seemed to answer Faykan's main concern, and he turned to look out the small window in the classroom. Draco was about to turn and leave him to his thoughts when Faykan suddenly spoke again. "Draco, how much do you know about your ancestry?"
"Well, my father told me a bit about the Malfoy line…" Draco began, but Faykan interrupted him.
"I meant your mother's line, the Black family line," he said.
"Um, nothing much really, I mean my mother told me a few stories, but that was about it," Draco admitted. Faykan just nodded, knowingly.
"Hmm, pity as current knowledge of that particular bloodline only extends to the Middle Ages… I had wondered if the members of the Black family themselves had more comprehensive records, but clearly they either do not, or do not understand the importance, after all, five thousand years is a long time..."
Draco desperately wanted to ask what Faykan was talking about, but he had already swept past him out of the door, moving back up the dungeons back toward the Great Hall, robes billowing behind him like… Uncle Severus…
[1] Song: Ligeia's Lament by Nox Arcana, lyrics by Michelle Belanger.