Wiley 73: Thanks for the catch on the Holyhead Harpies thing.
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All of the characters except for my own handful of originals, as well as locations, names, titles etc. are and remain the property of JKR and I hope you like it.
Principles such as Splicing are mine as well as all unique books, histories, titles, traditions and spells. I give users permission to use them, but only if you reference me in your work.
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Chapter 20: Growing Pains
The Gryffindors all descended out into the courtyard together, finding the Slytherins already on the field, chatting among themselves.
Malfoy turned as the lions approached. 'Ah, the frequent flyers are here!' he shouted to the crowd who laughed sycophantically.
Harry glared at Malfoy who met his gaze and sneered before turning away.
Harry saw the idiotic faces of Crabbe and Goyle and felt his insides clench as anger swelled up inside him.
'They're trouble, those two.' Ron muttered into his ear.
'Crabbe and Goyle?' Dean asked a little too loudly.
'They're nothing to worry about,' Harry said, rolling his shoulders, 'they're just bullies and bullies have no chance here. We all get a fresh start here, all we have to do is stick together.'
'Right, they're just bullies.' Said Hermione sounding less than convinced.
Harry walked forward toward the Slytherins in silence, the rest of the lions falling into unconscious step behind him.
As they approached, Harry saw the way that Neville was standing slightly away from the other Slytherins reading a small scroll.
Longbottom looked up, nodded furtively and back down. It was a tiny recognition, but Harry felt that it meant something.
'Good afternoon, class!' a loud, clear voice rang out across the field. Madame Hooch was striding toward them, a gleaming silvery broom over one shoulder and followed by a heap of smaller brooms floating a few feet off the ground behind her.
'Good afternoon Madam Hooch.' A little over half the class said.
Hooch was wearing tailored quidditch robes, most of her body encased in chevroned leather of black and palest blue. The tailored breastguard was emblazoned with the Exeter Eagles quidditch team badge of a great eagle with a quaffle in its talons. Hooch wasn't a traditional teacher, only working part-time at Hogwarts as she was also a professional quidditch instructor ever since she had retired from professional competition after the Eagles' had won their second consecutive European Cup with her as captain. She was the official Hogwarts first year flying instructor and quidditch coach, enjoying an office overlooking the great pitch on the outskirts of the grounds.
Everyone, even the Slytherins spoke highly of Hooch for her skill in flying instruction and how – quite rarely for one of the teachers – saw no favouritism based on her students houses.
She stopped in the dead-centre of the field and the school brooms fell to the floor in a heap. 'Come on, one broom each, quick!'
The students all moved forward to get their hands on a broom as quickly as possible, the Gryffindors having heard horror stories about the condition of the school brooms from the house quidditch team.
Crabbe and Goyle, with Malfoy between them, pushed and elbowed their way to the front of the small group and started throwing aside any brooms that they didn't deem suitable.
'Don't fight over the brooms, there are plenty to go around!' Hooch shouted over the tumult as people jostled for the best.
Eventually there was a pair of parallel lines of students facing one another with Hooch standing between them. Malfoy stood opposite Harry smirking.
'Put your brooms on the ground next to you as such.' She said indicating her silvered broom which lay under her right hand on the grass.
They dropped their brooms, nudging them into position. Harry looked down at his broom. It was old, the top of the haft thin, rubbed smooth and dark by countless sweaty hands that had gripped it.
It did not inspire confidence, but looked like a acro-broom compared to the pitiful thing that Ron had secured.
'Stick out your right hand over the broom and say "up".' Said Hooch, demonstrating as her broom leapt up into her outstretched hand.
They did as instructed.
Harry's broom shot off the ground so fast that it slapped against his hand, making it sting. A grin spread across his face that grew when he looked around to see that out of the whole group, the only others with brooms in hand were Seamus and Pansy Parkinson. Malfoy shouted again and his broom found his hand. He looked up, a grin splitting his face until his eyes fell on Harry. His smile disappeared immediately.
Ron's broom found his hand while Hermione's had just rolled over impotently. Neville looked around imploringly until Crabbe kicked his broom. The toadless boy barked the command again and the broom wobbled up into his hand. He looked up victorious, wobbled due to the weight in his hand and almost fell over.
Harry looked at Dean who was looking around victorious, his broom in hand. Hermione's hair looked angry, bushing out into a fierce cloud as her broom twitched feebly on the ground.
It took a few minutes for Hermione and Crabbe to get the old sticks into their hands, after which Hooch spent half an hour teaching them all how best to sit and grip the brooms for safe flying.
Malfoy laughed at Seamus telling him that he sat his broom wrong. When Hooch told Malfoy that it was, in fact he himself that had been doing it wrong all these years, the laughter of all the lions and a couple of snakes rang off the stone walls surround the courtyard.
Longbottom performed well, surprising the other snakes as he flew slowly but steadily around the arena and, despite a few wobbles, avoided falling off.
The lesson was bought to a sudden halt when Goyle collided in midair with Hermione, spilling them both to the ground amidst a shower of broken broomsticks. Harry didn't see it happen but heard the distressed shouts followed by both a roar and scream of pain. Goyle had landed on the ground first, his right leg twisted under him when Hermione landed on top of him, breaking her own arm, several of both her and Goyle's ribs and shattering his leg.
Parvati and Ron, along with two Slytherins passed out at the sight of blood and twisted bone sticking from Goyle's flesh as everyone hurried over.
'Move out of the way!' Hooch shouted, her voice magicall amplified as she vaulted off her broom beside the stricken pair.
Her wand in hand, she pointed it to Hermione who was screaming with pain in her arm and whispered 'Morsus reductus, brackium emendo, costae relaxo.' In quick succession.
Hermione's cries softened immediately and she took a deep, gasping breath as Hooch repeated the first and second words, her wand pointed at Goyle and added 'ciste cruor, incandormis.'
The blood gushing from Goyle's leg suddenly stopped and took on the appearance of jelly at the same time that his eyes closed and a moment later, he emitted deep, rumbling snore.
Hooch stood up, taking Hermione by her uninjured arm. 'Come on dear, let's get you to see Poppy in the hospital wing.' She said. Pointing to rest of the class she indicated Ron and Parvati said, 'Wake that fool up, her too. The incantation is enervate. The first of you to perform it successfully will receive ten points for their house.'
Harry moved forward to take Hermione's arm but she shrugged him off angrily, crying 'Get away from me!'
'Bowden, you help Granger here up to the hospital wing, I've got Goyle.' Hooch said tersely. 'Hop to it girl, her arm's fine now, just sore.'
She pointed her wand at Goyle's unconscious form and twitched it up, causing him to levitate up to waist height, the air between the wand and him shimmering as if connected by an invisible cord.
'Enervaté' Harry heard Neville shout, his wand pointed at Ron who proceeded to cough and sit upright, eyes wide.
'Good Mr Longbottom!' Hooch shouted as she walked away. 'Ten points to Slytherin. Class is dismissed for today, return to your common rooms. Get Miss Patil and Mr Weasley some hot tea when they're up and about, too.'
The air exploded with excited chatter that ranged from suspicious to accusatory to excited.
'Bloody snake did that on purpose.' Seamus said, angry.
'Stupid girl landed on him on purpose.'
'He's gonna pay for that!'
Harry pointed his wand at Parvati who was still slack-faced on the ground. All the incantations that Hooch had used were rolling around his mind, including the last one. 'Enervaté.'
Nothing happened until a moment later when Malfoy laughed, 'You're useless Potter.' He pointed his own wand, a short, dark stick as pointed as his own chin and barked, 'Enervaté!'
Parvati's eyes rolled open and Lavender helped her to stand. Malfoy sneered. 'Of course, if your father had married properly and not gone slumming with your mother, you would know all these simple spells already. ' He said, walking away.
'What?' Harry said as something cold and hard snapped in his mind.
Malfoy stopped and turned on his heel. 'You heard me; your father, from one of the oldest wizarding families in Britain, the last male of his line with a vast potential fortune went and married a mudblood.'
There was a collective intake of breath from the students.
The two halves of whatever had broken were chips of ice in Harry's consciousness that spread out, running down his arms and his fists clenched as his blood ran cold. Crabbe stepped up next to Malfoy. 'What're you going to do Potter, attack me like those creatures you've living with all these years?'
The cold gave Harry a piercing clarity. The world seemed to slow slightly and he found himself noticing things, really noticing things that he had been seeing since his first introduction to the wizarding world but was only now piecing them together. He looked into Malfoy's cold blue eyes and saw that actual fighting, with fists not wands, was exactly what he feared most of all, but not because he feared pain. It was his reputation – his pure blood superiority that he treasured most of all. Crabbe was big, but that looked like a family thing: he was big-boned and fat. His main observation of people in the wizarding world was that they were all soft, unfit and so used to doing everything with magic that their bodies were neglected. Even youngsters, strictly not allowed to do magic had at least the basics which was a massive advantage at school. Harry himself however, was lean and wiry, conditioned by years of hard work and chores that required elbow-grease and effort. His reflexes had been honed in the daily trial of avoiding Dudley and his cronies. If it came to it, Crabbe and Goyle would be no problem.
Harry took a step forward, 'No, I don't need to. You want to know why?'
Malfoy's throat contracted in a hard swallow and his head bobbed like a bird.
The fire was burning high in Harry, coursing through him, throwing away all his little insecurities. 'Because you know that I'd embarrass you and your mates, Malfoy. You stay away from my friends and everyone in Gryffindor or else. I don't know what mudblood means, but given that my mother was muggleborn, I can guess. If I ever hear you slating any muggleborns again, you'll have that oh-so-special pure blood all over your face.' He jerked his head forward as it to lash out at Malfoy who fell cried out and fell back against Crabbe who in turn toppled over and they both ended up on the grass.
The cold receeded back into that dark corner of his mind as he turned around, nodding to Dean, Seamus and the other Gryffindors as he walked back toward the school.
By the time his feet reached the steps to the grand staircase that would take him to Gryffindor Tower, his mind and heart had stopped racing and reminded him about what had happened with Hermione and Goyle. The way she had so quickly stopped Hermione's pain and Goyle's bleeding was amazing and she had said that Hermione's arm was fine, hadn't she? Did that mean that one of her spells had been able to repair broken bones?
The implications for the use of magic for healing opened new avenues and ideas in his mind. All the times he had been left bloody and bruised by Dudley, all the mornings he'd woken up aching and sore from a day's hard gardening could be forgotten about.
He had paid enough attention in primary school PE classes to understand that the reason a person was sore after exercise was that their muscles had been damaged and needed time to repair which over time meant that, if done properly, a person would get stronger.
How strong could I be if I don't get lazy like all these fat wizards, who use magic to do everything, but use it to fix my hurting muscles after doing work properly? He thought to himself as his feet turned him toward the hospital wing. He would check on Hermione and ask Madame Pomphrey questions about healing magic all at the same time.
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Hermione's broken bones had all been fixed by the time he arrived in the hospital wing, the only area of the whole school that smelled of nothing but extreme cleanness. She had been changed into a white gown with a crimson slash on the chest and was resting, droopy-eyed in a bed.
Goyle seemed to be a different matter entirely.
Madame Pomphrey was accompanied by Professors Flitwick, McGonagall and Madame Hooch, all of whom were lending their spells to healing Goyle who was rocking violently on a bed, sheets stained with fresh blood.
Harry's heart quickened again and he walked further into the huge room, unaware that he sneaking along. McGonagall looked up when he was twenty feet from the bed and he saw that her normally implacable face was even paler than normal and her hair coming free from its taut bun.
'Potter, what're you doing here?' She cried and without waiting for him to reply shouted. 'Get out of here, go to the common room at once!'
A twinge of resentment flared in his heart and died instantly as he turned on his heel and returned as quickly as possible to the common room. He saw Percy Weasley in the corridor on his way between lessons and borrowed a pencil and scrap of parchment from him to jot down the spells Hooch had used as best he could remember them.
He sat down in a couch next to a pale-faced Tina-Marie and exhaled heavily.
She turned to him and raised her eyebrows. 'I know, right?'
Harry nodded and let out a deep breath.
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