Again, many thanks for all your great reviews. I spent most of today re-editing the story, and writing the epilogue. It comes in at a total of about 46,000 words, and 125 pages. There's seventeen chapters in all.

FIVE: THE FLYING LESSON

The second week of their first year passed with little excitement. The only high point of the week was on Thursday afternoon when the first years realised that it was time for their first flying lesson. This, of course, caused much excitement among the group, who eagerly shared tales of their flying prowess and made most of the muggleborns fear for their lives.

Hermione was still not convinced that flying on a broom could possibly be safe, and so checked out every single book on the topic that she could get her hands on. She found Quidditch Through the Ages to be particularly useful, but she knew that the reality of flight would be vastly different.

Ron, who'd apparently been flying since he was quite young, sneered at the book in Hermione's hand.

"You won't learn anything with that thing," he pronounced authoritatively.

"It's giving me the theory," Hermione defended.

"Theory of flying?" he teased. "No such thing."

"Oh really? Then what type of magic is it that enchants the brooms? And what spells do they have on them?" Hermione asked.

Ron went bright red, and his mouth flopped open and closed like a flailing fish.

"Who cares about any of that?" he protested. "You won't know how to fly any better."

"Maybe not, but I'll feel a lot safer," Hermione replied.

"The magic behind it is pretty interesting anyway," Harrison defended his friend. "You'd be surprised at how many safety charms are put onto brooms. It'd take seriously powerful magic to strip a broom of its enchantments."

Ron shook his head in disgust. "You two could take the fun out of anything," he said.

Hermione frowned, narrowing her eyes at the red head who jumped back into conversation with the rest of the enthusiastic first years who were comparing flying feats.

"Well, I thought it was interesting," Harrison said with a careless shrug.

"It'd be fun to try to enchant a broom when we're older. See if we could actually do it," Hermione said.

"Maybe they'll let us do it for an assignment when we're in sixth or seventh year."

"Something to look forward to," Hermione enthused.

With lunch finished, the first year Gryffindors and Slytherins headed out to the courtyard where Madam Hooch, the flying instructor, stood between two lines of broomsticks.

"Well, what are you all waiting for?" Madam Hooch barked. "Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up."

The students raced to stand beside the school brooms, which Harry had heard the Weasley twins complain about earlier in the week. The twins had said that the brooms would fly shakily at top speed, or that they would veer left when you steered right. From the looks of the brooms, they weren't even slightly impressive.

"Stick out your right hand over your broom, and say 'Up!'" Madam Hooch instructed.

The group followed her instructions, and Harrison was pleased that his own broom jumped straight into his hand. His was the only one, however. Draco Malfoy had to repeat his command, and then his broom was in his hand as well.

Hermione's rolled over on the ground like a disobedient puppy.

Harrison leaned closer to her. "Loosen up, remember," he instructed, reminding Hermione of her own instructions to him in Transfigurations. "Relax, visualise, and try again."

Hermione closed her eyes, took a deep breath and pictured her broom in her hand. "Up!" Her broom jumped into her hand, stinging her palm slightly, but she smiled, pleased that she'd managed to get the broom to respond.

After everyone had managed to get their brooms to fly to their hands, Madam Hooch went around the group giving instructions on the best grips, and how to steer, including how to break and accelerate. It didn't seem all that complicated, but Hermione had broken into a nervous sweat at the thought of taking the broom into the air.

"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard. Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet and then come straight back down by leaning forwards slightly. On my whistle – three – two -"

Hooch didn't get the chance to blow her whistle, as Neville Longbottom accidentally kicked off hard, rising straight up into the air. His face was white with fright, and before Hooch could get onto her own broom to follow him, Neville had fallen – hard – onto the ground.

The group winced as they heard a loud snap. Madam Hooch rushed to Neville and helped him to sit up. He cradled his wrist gingerly, and the flying instructor immediately recognised the break in his arm.

"Broken wrist," Hooch murmured. "Come on, boy, up you get."

Hooch helped Neville to his feet, and then turned to the rest of the group.

"None of you is to move while I take Mr Longbottom to the hospital wing! You leave those brooms where they are or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quidditch'."

Hooch escorted Neville towards the building, and the group milled around, breaking off into small groups to chat. Or in the Slytherins' case, to mock Neville Longbottom.

"Did you see his face, the fat lump?" Draco Malfoy sneered.

"Leave off, Malfoy," Harrison glared.

"Ohhh, Evans, a mudblood defending the squib. Scary."

Malfoy spotted something in the grass where Neville had landed, and he reached down to scoop up the small glass ball. Harrison recognised it as the Remembrall that Neville's Gran had sent him earlier at breakfast.

"Give that here, Malfoy," Harrison demanded, holding out his hand to take the ball back.

Malfoy stepped out of Harrison's reach. With broom still in hand, Draco mounted it and began hovering.

"I think I'll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find it. How about on the roof?" With that, he shot off like a rocket, and Harrison swung his legs over his own broom.

"Harrison, no!" Hermione yelled fervently. "You'll be expelled."

Harrison considered that thought for a moment, then decided that this was a matter of honour, and he was going after Neville's Remembrall. He took off, and immediately wondered why he'd been worrying. Flying was the simplest thing in the world!

He felt the wind whipping against his face, and the currents of the air as the sun shone down on him. Draco wasn't that far ahead, and Harrison caught up with him easily.

"Give it here Malfoy, or I'll knock you off your broom!" Harrison threatened.

Draco turned, expecting to see Harrison further away, but was startled at how close the Gryffindor was to him. He held up the Remembrall for Harrison to see.

"You really want it that much?" he asked. "Catch it then."

Draco hefted his arm back, and then threw the Rememberall as far as he could. Harrison darted off after it, keeping his eyes on the target, though it was amazingly difficult to see. The Remembrall was about the size of a tennis ball, and completely transparent. The only thing keeping it visible was the glint of sunlight reflecting in the glass. Harrison dove for the ball, and pulled his broom to an abrupt halt as he caught the fragile glass, and then did a hairpin turn, and raced back to the waiting crowd.

The Gryffindor's were cheering at Harrison's capture of the Remembrall while the Slytherins were shaking their heads in dismay.

"HARRISON EVANS!"

Harrison felt his heart fall. That was Professor McGonagall's voice. He darted a look at Hermione, who was white-faced and biting her fingernails nervously.

"Never, in all my time at Hogwarts-" the Professor looked furious, and Harrison knew he was done for. He hadn't even managed to make it two whole weeks at Hogwarts.

"How dare you – might have broken you neck -"

"It wasn't his fault, Professor," Hermione spoke up shakily.

"Be quiet, Miss Granger," the Professor said stiffly. "Evans, follow me."

Harrison was shaking as he followed Professor McGonagall into the castle and through several corridors. He wondered if he was being taken to see Dumbledore before being expelled. He wished he'd listened to Hermione. Catching the Remembrall wasn't really worth getting expelled for, though he was glad it hadn't been broken. But in the grand scheme of things, Neville could have got a new one.

McGonagall came to a stop outside a classroom, and opened the door, poking her head inside.

"Excuse me, Professor Flitwick, could I borrow Wood for a moment?" McGonagall said.

She seemed calmer now, far less angry. Harrison had experienced with his aunt that a seemingly calm attitude was often the prelude to a sound telling off, so he knew better than to think he was off the hook.

He wondered if he was going to be caned. Better than expulsion, but not an easy pill to swallow.

Wood, however, turned out to be a fifth year, who looked as confused as Harrison felt.

"Po – Evans, this is Oliver Wood," McGonagall introduced.

Harrison caught the near-slip of the Professor's tongue, and wondered how many other teachers had been so close to revealing his birth name.

"Wood, I have found you a Seeker," McGonagall announced with glee in her voice.

Wood's face lit up with delight. "Are you serious, Professor?"

McGonagall nodded, and pointed to Neville's Remembrall in Harrison's hand. "He caught that thing in his hand after a fifty foot dive. Didn't even scratch himself. Charlie Weasley couldn't have done it."

Wood stared in disbelief at the see-through ball, and then cast his gaze to Harrison. "Ever seen a Quidditch game, Evans?"

Harrison shook his head, too speechless to manage even a single syllable.

Wood seemed dumbstruck at the idea that Harrison had never played. "Well, we'll get you out on the pitch over the weekend, train you up. You're just the right build for a Seeker, too. Light, speedy. If we can get you a decent broom, we'll be in with a real chance to win the cup."

"I'll speak to the Headmaster to see if we can't bend the rule about first years owning brooms," McGonagall said. "Besides, if we can't change the rule, then, I'll just have to let Mr Evans borrow my new broom."

Oliver grinned conspiratorially at McGonagall, and Harrison couldn't believe his luck when the Professor grinned back.

"Now, you'll have to train hard, Evans, or I may just change my mind about punishing you," McGonagall said. "Oh, and...ten points from Gryffindor for such reckless behaviour."

Harrison was happy to not be expelled, so he just nodded and tried to look sufficiently chastised. The problem was that the idea of being on the Qudditch team seemed really exciting. Flying had felt so natural, and he wanted to get back in the air as soon as possible.

He couldn't wait to tell Hermione. Maybe she'd let him borrow that Quidditch Through the Ages she'd been reading.

Then again, she had not been impressed when he'd ignored her in order to go after Malfoy. He'd have to apologise to her the moment he saw her. It had been monumentally stupid, though he had to admit it seemed well worth it now.

Even better would be the look on Malfoy's face when he realised that Harrison's position as Seeker was all because of the blonde Slytherin's taunting behaviour. Harrison smirked, more than willing to rub Malfoy's nose in the karmic balance of it all.

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Hermione was furious with Harrison, and as they sat opposite one another in the library, Hermione kept kicking his shins every few moments.

"Ouch! Quit it!"

Hermione glared at him. "I can't believe you were rewarded for doing something so stupid!"

"I lost points," Harrison defended. "It's not like I wasn't punished."

"Ten points? What was Professor McGonagall thinking?"

Both Hermione and Harrison jumped as the Weasley twins sat on either side of them, Fred next to Hermione and George beside Harrison.

"She was thinking of the Quidditch Cup," Fred said.

"And about beating Slytherin this year," George added.

"The Gryff's haven't won since our brother Charlie left school the year before last," Fred continued.

"If there's one thing McGonagall loves more than Transfiguration-"

"-it's Quidditch," the twins finished together.

Hermione stared at the duo, shocked at their ability to finish each others sentences, and also with the knowledge they had just imparted.

"So, you think it's alright that Harrison didn't get punished?"

"We think it's wicked," Fred replied with a grin.

"Besides, what point would there really be in serving detention when there's Quidditch practice to be had?"

Hermione groaned in frustration, and then threw her hands in the air, defeated. "Fine! Fine. But, next year, when some idiot first year does the exact same thing because they know they could get a spot on the house team, there'd better not be any other punishment either."

Harrison stared at her, eyebrows raised. "Hermione, I do regret going off after Malfoy, but I don't regret getting onto the team. It sounds really great, and I think being on the team could be really fun."

Hermione rolled her eyes, but visibly softened. "Alright, fine. But, you'd better not fall off your broom or anything, because I'd never be able to come to your games after that."

"I won't fall off," he assured her. "Flying is great. Quidditch will be even better."

"Don't worry Harrikins," Fred said.

"It's really rare to get killed in a school match," George continued.

"Just maimed," Fred jibed.

Harrison smiled tightly at the duo. "Thanks guys, real comforting."

"We're here to serve."

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