Hey guys! So this is chapter six! WOOO!!
Okay then... so here's the usual.
RATE: T
GENRE: FAMILY/FRIENDSHIP/ACTION
DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN HP. THE LOVELY JKR DOES.
WARNING: SOME SADNESS DURING THE ENDING OF THIS CHAPTER.
Chapter 6
Harry had never believed he would meet a boy he hated more than Dudley, but that was before he met Draco Malfoy. Still, first-year Gryffindors only had Potions with the Slytherins, so they didn't have to put up with Malfoy much. Or at least, they didn't until they spotted a notice pinned up in the Gryffindor common room that made them all groan. Flying lessons would be starting on Thursday — and Gryffindor and Slytherin would be learning together.
"Great," Harry said darkly. "Just what I wanted. To make a fool out of myself on a broom with Malfoy watching."
He had been looking forward to learning to fly more than anything else.
"You don't know that you'll make a fool of yourself," said Ron reasonably. "Anyway, I know Malfoy's always going on about how good he is at Quidditch, but I bet that's all talk."
Malfoy certainly did talk about flying a lot. He complained loudly about first years never getting on the house Quidditch teams. He would tell long, boastful stories that always seemed to end with him narrowly escaping Muggles in helicopters.
He wasn't the only one, though. By 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. Everyone from wizarding families talked about Quidditch constantly.
"It is," Cassie said absently.
"How do you know that?" Ron asked.
"He tried to fly the other day. He stinks."
"There you go Harry," Ron said. "He stinks."
"Well I probably would stink to," Harry said miserably. "Sports are not exactly something I'm good at."
"Muggle sports are nothing like Quidditch,' Cassie reminded him. "Except possibly soccer, and honestly you just kick a ball around."
"Yeah," Ron said.
Already Ron has gotten into an argument about Muggle sports. He and Dean Thomas, who shared the dormitory with him, has gotten into an argument about soccer. Ron complained about how boring it was to see people kick around a one ball in one goal. The worst thing was that they could not fly. Harry had caught Ron prodding Dean's poster of West Ham soccer team, trying to make the players move.
Neville had never been on a broomstick in his life, because his grandmother had never let him near one. Privately, Harry felt she'd had good reason, because Neville managed to have an extraordinary number of accidents even with both feet on the ground.
Hermione who was just as worried as Neville was reading Quidditch Throughout the Ages. Neville was reading over her shoulder desperate to avoid any accidents.
But of course you can't learn a sport from a book.
Ever since Hagrid's note he never got any mail. He never expected any from the Dursleys, and he really didn't have anyone to contact. Malfoy regularly got sweets from his Mum delivered by what it looks like a expensive eagle owls.
"Look what Gran got me!" Neville exclaimed. He held up a small ball. It looked cloudy.
"That a Remebrall," Hermione said. "It tells you whether you forgot something."
The ball turned red.
"Looks like a forgot something,' Neville said. He was puzzling over what he could have forgotten when Malfoy came and took the small ball.
Harry and Ron wanted a excuse to fight when McGonagall came.
"What is going on Mr. Longbottom?"
"Malfoy took my Remebrall Professor."
"Give it back Mr. Malfoy."
"Just looking," he said, and he sloped away with Crabbe and Goyle behind him.
At three-thirty that afternoon, Harry, Ron, and the other Gryffindors hurried down the front steps onto the grounds for their first flying lesson. It was a clear, breezy day, and the grass rippled under their feet as they marched down the sloping lawns toward a smooth, flat lawn on the opposite side of the grounds to the forbidden forest, whose trees were swaying darkly in the distance.
The Slytherins were already there, and so were twenty broomsticks lying in neat lines on the ground. Harry had heard Fred and George Weasley complain about the school brooms, saying that some of them started to vibrate if you flew too high, or always flew slightly to the left.
Just what he needed.
"Harry your shaking,' Cassie said. "Are you scared.
"No."
"Here, calming draught." she took out a small bottle. Harry drank it in one gulp. He instantly felt his nerves relax.
Good, now he could fly.
Possibly.
Their teacher, Madam Hooch, arrived. She had short, gray hair, and yellow eyes like a hawk.
"Well, what are you all waiting for?" she barked. "Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up."
Harry glanced down at his broom. It was old and some of the twigs stuck out at odd angles.
"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 rolled and Neville's didn't even come up.
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. Harry and Ron were delighted when she told Malfoy he'd been doing it wrong for years.
"I told you Harry," Cassie said.
"Yeah yeah," he grumbled. "No need to get a big head."
"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, nervous and jumpy and frightened of being left on the ground, pushed off hard before the whistle had touched Madam Hooch's lip.
"Boy come down right no - "
Crack. It was to late Neville fell off the broom. The Broom flew lazily to the Forbidden Forest.
Madam Hooch was bending over Neville, her face as white as his.
"Broken wrist," Harry heard her mutter. "Come on, boy — it's all right, up you get."
Neville whimpered.
"here," Cassie was by his side already. She took a piece of cloth out of her bag and made a support for his arm. Neville gave her a small smile.
"Are you going to take him to the Hospital Wing?" she asked.
"Yes."
Cassie nodded.
"Thanks," Neville said.
"You're welcome," she said giving him a huge smile.
Harry felt jealous. Why should Neville get her smile? She had never given him such a smile. It was lovely. Her small mouth corners turned up and her eyes would sparkle. If he could ever be graced with such a smile....
"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, with his arm in the support, hobbled off with Madam Hooch, who had her arm around him.
"What a lump!" Malfoy said laughing.
"It not funny Malfoy,' cassie said. She got right in his face. "How would like it if you fell?"
"Connelly, you're overreacting,'" she said backing up. "The lump could take care of himself."
"Malfoy I think you should say another word or I'll break your arm in the most painful way possible," Cassie threatened. "I'll be so broken you won't be able to use it again."
Malfoy scoffed, but he looked scared.
Never cross Cassie.
The consequences were deadly.
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.
This was going to get nasty.
"Then come up and get it Potter," he snarled while raising higher into the air with the broomstick.
Harry grabbed on of them.
"No she strictly said - " Hermione started.
"Harry..." Cassie said warningly.
He shot off into the air.
Blood was pounding in his ears. 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 — wind whistled in his ears, mingled with the screams of people watching — he stretched out his hand — a foot from the ground he 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.
He flew to the ground and landed. People were patting his back and cheering. He smiled. Fling was wonderful. Oh how we liked it...
SLAP!
"Harry Potter!" Cassie screeched. "That was a fifty foot fall! How could you?"
his cheek was stinging. She was angry.
Extremely angry.
"You and your heroics! Do you have any idea how hurt you could have been?"
"Miss Connelly!"
McGonagall.
Oh no.
Did she see?
"HARRY POTTER!"
His heart sank faster than he'd just dived. Professor McGonagall was running toward them. 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 —"
"That's what I was telling him!" Cassie exclaimed. "never again...."
"What do you mean never again?" McGonagall said. "He must play for the House team. Oh.... I need to see Wood."
"What?" Malfoy said. "He just broke the rules!"
"So did you Mr. Malfoy. 10 points from Slytherin," she said. "And 10 from Gryffindor." she added sheepishly. "Come with me Potter."
Harry followed her.
**
Harry smiled. That was one of his favorite memories in Hogwarts.
Flying...
He did mount a broomstick since the accident. Ginny was always trying to persuade him.
But he never could.
It was painful. He can't do it.
Yes he could.
It was easy. Simple. It was second nature to him. But what was stopping him?
Cassie's memory?
But she loved watching him fly. Always at his games...
He was going to try.
For her.
Harry took the box out of the attic and put it in his and Ginny's room. He walked to the cupboard and found his old Firebolt.
Firebolts was considered ancient now with all those fancy brooms now. But this is a classic. Like id Nimbus.
He went to the back where he saw his kids. They waved to him. He waved back. Then they spotted the broom.
"Daddy are you going to play with us?" said the littlest. Lily Luna Potter.
"Yeah," he said.
"Mommy! Daddy's going to play with us!" she cried. She was nine. She didn't know how important this was.
A red haired woman walked out of the house. "What?"
"Daddy's going to play!"
"Harry?" Ginny asked. "really. You haven't since..."
"I know,' He said smiling. "Join me Ginny?" he held out his hand.
She took it.
"Would miss it for the world." she kissed his cheek. They mounted the broom together. Ready?"
"Ready."
They shot off.
He never felt something this good.