CHAPTER 3

Most of our lessons during the first week were very similar: introductions to what they were, basic information and tasks given, with almost no practical work. Yet, it was still exciting, and most of us hadn't gotten over our euphoria of actually being at a school of wizardry.

The first out-of-the-ordinary lesson was potions on the Friday with Professor Snape. Potions was in the dungeons, and with the Slytherins, two things that are never great on their own, let alone both at once. We were just setting our things out when Snape strode his way into the room. He almost immediately started picking on Harry, asking him questions that even some of the second years would struggle with, let alone a first year raised by muggles for ten years. Both Hermione and I were the only ones that knew the answers to the questions, but Snape refused to acknowledge our existence.

Things didn't get any better from there. When Neville nearly melted his cauldron, Snape blamed Hermione and Harry, asking why they hadn't stopped him from making the mistake, and that they let him get on with it to make them look better.

I think we were all glad when the bell rang and we were released from our underground prison. No one was looking forward to when we'd have to come back the next week.

It was the day after (Saturday) when Hermione mentioned a sign on the Gryffindor notice board: flying lessons were coming up, starting Thursday. I myself had mixed feelings about them, feeling excited to learn the trademark skill of a witch, but terrified at the prospect of being on a flimsy branch high up in the air with nothing to protect you. So it was with anticipation that I wandered down to the lesson with Hermione.

Our teacher, Madame Hooch - with her yellow eyes - was quite a formidable person. She was a no-nonsense sort of person, yet not unlikeable. At the start of the lesson, she came marching across the mountainous terrain of the school grounds.

We each found a broom and stood to the left of it, before putting our right hand over the broom, shouting, "Up!" The idea was that the broom would then fly up into our open hands, ready for us to mount and fly them. However, only two people managed to successfully do it first try: dastardly Draco Malfoy, and Harry Potter. I managed to do it on my third try, along with most other people, but Hermione and Neville took at least six attempts each.

Then, we had to mount our brooms, and on the count of three, Madame Hooch would blow her whistle, and we'd carefully rise into the air. Unfortunately, we never got past two, as Neville panicked and kicked off too early. He then lost control and crashed into the castle, before landing with a crack on the grass below. Madame Hooch then explained that she was taking him to the hospital wing. She also specifically told us not to fly. But that was exactly what Harry and Malfoy did.

Malfoy found Neville's remembrall in the grass, picked it up, and declared to the class that he was going to steal it and hide it at the top of a tree. Of course, all the Slytherins laughed or smiled, but as a Gryffindor, I was appalled. Harry tried to fight him for it, and when he rose into the air, followed him. As per usual, Hermione tried to stop him, but to no avail.

For never having flown on a broom before, Harry flew surprisingly well, although they hadn't done anything particularly difficult yet. That all changed though, when Malfoy shouted something, and threw the small ball back towards the castle. As any normal Gryffindor would do, Harry then chased after it, obviously trying to catch it. He did. He was about a metre away from the window of McGonagall's office, but still managed to catch the small ball. It was only when he started flying back that we started cheering, although that immediately stopped when professor McGonagall came storming out of the building. She summoned Harry to follow her, and they left without another word.

We all thought he'd been expelled, and so were shocked when we met him at dinner, claiming to have become the youngest seeker in a century. Malfoy was obviously surprised too, as at dinner, he arrogantly strolled up to the table, and challenged Harry to a duel at midnight in the trophy room. Harry being Harry, accepted.

On the night, Hermione and I tried to stop the boys from going, but instead ended up getting locked out, and tailing along behind them. As we should have expected from the slimy Slytherin, Malfoy didn't appear at the trophy room, but had instead set Filch on us. In our attempt to escape Filch and his cat, Mrs Norris, we didn't think about where we going, and ended up at the banned third floor corridor. Again, in an attempt to escape, Hermione unlocked the door before passing through, waiting for Filch to leave. However, we weren't alone in the corridor, as all of a sudden, a large three-headed dog was breathing down our necks. We all screamed, not caring if anyone heard us or not, and deserted the room, but not before I managed to catch sight of a uniformed gap underneath the door - which I later learned was a trap door.

It was that trap door which would be the main cause for all our troubles in the rest of the year.