Disclaimer: I'm going to tell you a little secret: Harry isn't mine. Neither is most of the other stuff I write about. After all this is Fan-fiction.
"But how am I supposed to learn how to fly?" Eloise was freaking out. I probably would too if our situations were reversed but still flying was nothing to worry about.
"Madame Hooch is supposed to be really good. Anyways you'll be learning with the Ravenclaws. They're not going to be that bad. I'm stuck with the Slytherins. Can you hold this?"
Eloise held the pot still as I fought to stuff the shrub into it. Every time I got close, it would squirm and wriggle in my hands. It reached out a feeler and tickled me in the stomach. I dropped it and it nearly hit the green house floor. Eloise practically threw the pot to get it underneath in time. Professor Sprout gave us a disapproving look but didn't say anything. She was too busy trying to get Hannah Abbott to start breathing normally after the tickling tenirous plant had well done as the name implied. You could almost say the plants were dangerous. Many people underestimated the sinister power of tickling.
"But I mean basically everyone already knows how."
I couldn't really deny that. A lot of the people from magical families were talking about Quidditch and flying basically the entire time since the notices were pinned in each common room. My idiot of a cousin talked about flying a lot. 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. I doubt he could even fly.
Rigel had been complaining about his dorm mates. They all were very competitive each trying to make it sound like they were professional Quidditch players. If Seamus Finnigan was to be believed, he'd spent most of his childhood zooming around the countryside on his broomstick. Ron and Dean got into the most ridiculous argument over soccer. Ron just couldn't see what was exciting about a game with only one ball where no one was allowed to fly. Neville seemed to be the only one who hadn't been on a broom before. His Gran felt it was too dangerous.
"Not everyone. Anyways, I bet some of them don't even know how to fly properly. Sure they can fly but maybe some of them can only fly in circles."
"That'd be an interesting sight," Eloise laughed.
"Oh, but it gets worse. My sister accidently let herself on fire." I said.
Eloise's expression changed dramatically. "I bet that's what happens to me."
Oh no, I made it worse. "Nah, my sister is just incredibly talented at causing disaster. Mum says it's the only reason she's sure we're related. No one else could possibly become a blowtorch like Nymphy; even Madame Hooch was surprised. You'll be fine."
Eloise seemed to calm down a bit but she still looked frantic. "I'm sorry. I'm just-" the rest of her reply was impossible to hear.
"What?"
Eloise spoke just slightly louder. "I'm afraid of heights."
"Well, you don't have to go very high. Some people don't even let their feet completely leave the ground."
I looked at her. She didn't seem any calmer. I rushed on, "Maybe you could just talk to Madame Hooch and you could get out of it."
"Maybe…"
"Well, that'll be all today. Make sure to put your pots on the back counter. I want a foot long essay on the defenses of a plant of your choice." Professor Sprout dismissed us.
"Good Luck then," I whispered. Eloise nodded.
At three-thirty that afternoon, all the 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. There couldn't be better flying conditions.
The Slytherins were already there, and so were twenty broomsticks lying in neat lines on the ground. Fred and George Weasley complained about the school brooms, saying that some of them started to vibrate if you flew too high, or always flew slightly to the left. I really didn't doubt this. Old brooms were often temperamental.
Madame 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."
I 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.
My broom leaped into my hands. Rigel's did too but there weren't many others. I noticed Harry looked surprised and delighted at the broomstick in his hand.
Hermione Granger's had simply rolled over on the ground, and Neville's hadn't moved at all. Maybe Neville was afraid of heights too. There was a quaver in Neville's voice that said only too clearly that he wanted to keep his feet on the ground.
Madame Hooch then showed us how to mount the brooms without sliding off the end, and walked up and down the rows correcting their grips. She even went as far to say that Malfoy had been doing it wrong for years. I rushed to cover my laugh with a loud cough. Harry and Ron turned toward me both with smirks bright on their faces.
"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard," said Madame 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 pushed off hard before the whistle had touched Madam Hooch's lips.
"Come back, boy!" she shouted, but Neville was rising straight up like a cork shot out of a bottle — twelve feet — twenty feet. Neville's face was white. The broom jerked around more. Madame Hooch just kept yelling at Neville to get down but it was obvious he had no idea how. She hadn't taught us yet. If someone didn't help him, Neville was going to fall.
I pushed off.
"Get down, girl! We don't need two people stuck up there!" Madame Hooch yelled.
Air whipped threw my hair and robes. It was a wonderful sensation. I edged my broom closer to Neville's. It was harder to control than my own broom. The broom always seemed to want to zigzag.
"Neville, can you climb onto my broom? I'm going try to get us both to the ground."
Neville shook his head.
"Okay! Okay! Can you take my hand? Maybe we can get to the ground this way."
Neville reached out and nearly fell out of the sky. He slid over the edge but I was able to catch him before he hit the ground. I couldn't hold on to him for very long though. The weight really was too much. I needed help. If someone didn't come soon, I was going to drop Neville and most likely fall off my broom too.
I could feel the stares of my classmates but no one was coming. The weight on my arms seemed to lessen. Another broomstick was in the air next to me.
"Amira, go down. I've got his feet."
I'd never been happier to see Rigel in my life. Neville lay petrified between us. I held his arms. Between the two of us, we could probably get Neville to the ground safely.
"We're going to have to do this gently. Any sudden movements and we could drop Neville. "
"I know. I know." Wow he's easy to irritate.
We were only about 5 feet away from the ground when a sudden wind picked up. The school brooms swerved terribly. I'd be fine on my Comet 240 but this stupid thing wouldn't work. The wind picked up. No matter how hard we pushed to go down, all we did was go slightly to the left. The gust sent Rigel soaring in the other direction leaving Neville's full weight in my hands. It was too much. Neville began to slip. I tried to tighten my grasp but he was wriggling uncontrollably. And finally…
WHAM — a thud and a nasty crack and Neville lay face down on the grass in a heap.
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."
"Now that was an extremely foolish thing to do. You could have been hurt. But take 5 points each for minimizing the damage." Madame Hooch said to Rigel and I. She 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, his face tear-streaked, clutching his wrist, hobbled off with Madam Hooch, who had her arm around him. He looked over his shoulder and gave us a grateful grimace. It was good though. I bet the Matron would be able to heal him in a couple seconds.
Malfoy burst into laughter. "Did you see his face, the great lump?" The other Slytherins joined in.
"Shut up, Malfoy," snapped Parvati Patil. Maybe that girl wasn't all that bad. I
"Ooh, sticking up for Longbottom?" said Pansy Parkinson, a pug-faced Slytherin girl. "Never thought you'd like fat little crybabies, Parvati."
"Parkinson, do us all a favor and go back to whatever pound you escaped from." She looked genuinely insulted by my comment. So insulted, that she was at a loss for words and just stood there and glared at me.
"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. I was almost positive it would turn red. Malfoy had forgotten several things including manners, politeness and some good insults.
"Give that here, Malfoy," said Harry quietly. Everyone stopped talking to watch.
Malfoy smiled nastily. "I think I'll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find — how about — up a tree?"
He is such a- hmm I probably shouldn't use that type of language.
"Give it here!" Harry yelled, but Malfoy had leapt onto his broomstick and taken off.
Hovering level with the topmost branches of an oak he called, "Come and get it, Potter!"
Harry grabbed his broom.
"No!" shouted Hermione Granger. "Madam Hooch told us not to move — you'll get us all into trouble."
"TAKE HIM DOWN HARRY!" Rigel and I shouted.
Harry ignored her but gave us a small smile. He kicked hard against the ground and up, up he soared; Harry had a lot more control over the school broom than I did. Maybe if I were as good as him, I wouldn't have dropped Neville.
Harry pulled his broomstick up a little to take it even higher, and making Ron give an admiring whoop in my ear.
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. Parvarti and Lavender was clapping enthusiastically. By the look on Dean's face, he had realized just how fantastic flying and Quidditch were.
"No Crabbe and Goyle up here to save your neck, Malfoy," Harry called.
"Catch it if you can, then!" he shouted, and he threw the glass ball high into the air and streaked back toward the ground. The Slytherins ran over to him and Pansy broke off her glare to ask, "Oh Draco, are you okay?" in a sickingly sweet voice like poisoned honey.
The Remembrall started plummeting to the ground. Harry leaned forward and pointed his broom handle down — next second he was gathering speed in a steep dive, racing the ball. He was going to crash. There was no way he could catch that. I'd seen professional players fail dives like that. Harry was going to break his next. Many people were screaming and I wasn't sure if I was one of them. Harry 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, making the best catch I had ever seen.
"HARRY POTTER!"
Oh no! Professor McGonagall was running toward us.
Harry got to his feet, trembling, and I found my self unconsciously taking a step away from the thin-lipped teacher.
"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."
"It wasn't his fault, Professor —"
"Be quiet, Miss Patil —"
"Yeah, it's all the idiot's fau-"
"Language, Miss Tonks."
"But Malfoy —"
"That's enough, Mr. Weasley. Potter, follow me, now."
Harry Potter turned and walked toward the castle followed by a scary angry transfiguration teacher, about to be punished for the coolest thing I had ever seen.
A.N. Thanks for all the reviews I've been getting. They're really wonderful. I should have the next chapter up soon.