Chapter Seven: That Moment When…

Date: September 6, 2011

The bell rang as Harry, Hermione, Anthony, and Susan sat down in their desks in Professor Snape's class. Harry was paired with Hermione, and Anthony and Susan were together. Fellow classmates were chattering excitedly, gossiping about inane things such as who was dating who. That was quickly put to a stop as the doors banged open and a -wait, was that a… greasy haired bat?!- swept into the room, a black cloak billowing behind him. This must be Professor Severus Snape, who had apparently had a huge rivalry with Harry's biological father, James, according to Harry's Uncle Filius. Professor Snape walked up to the front of the room, folded his hands on the desk, and began to talk:

"There will be no foolish wand-waving, or silly incantations in this class. As such, you are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion making. I can teach you how to bewitch the mind and ensnare the senses. I can teach you to bottle fame, brew glory, and even put a stopper in death, if you aren't the bunch of dunderheads I usually have to teach. WEASLEY!"

The potions class went rather swimmingly after that, with Snape asking various people quiz questions about various topics related to potion-making. Then, he had them make a boil-cure potion, which was fairly simple. When the bell rang, everyone was happy to escape the dark dungeon. Harry didn't know why, but he got the feeling that Snape hated him.

Date: September 12, 2011

The next few days after the potions class passed smoothly, with Harry, Susan, Hermione, and Anthony adapting slowly to the new schedule. Finally, it was Thursday. The day of their first flying class. It was also one day until the first meeting of the Movie Club, a new club of the quartet's creation, which would be sponsored by Professors Flitwick and McGonagall. In short, this week was set to be extremely entertaining. Breakfast found The Quartet lounging at the Ravenclaw table, reading books on flying such as…

"Quidditch Through The Ages?"

"The Magic of Flight?"

"The Idiot's Guide to Flying?"

"Is it just me, Freddie, or are these four ickle firsties preparing for their first flying lesson?"

"I think they are, Georgie."

Harry looked up, and grinned as he spotted Hogwarts' resident pranksters. "Ah, if it isn't my favorite members of Gryffindor house! How do you do my friends, how do you do?"

"Splendid, Mr. Flitwick. Just a tip for you, Quidditch through the Ages only gives tips about Quidditch, not basic flying. For that I would recommend The Idiot's Guide to Flying, which Hermione has over there." Fred suggested.

"Gee, thanks!" Harry commented. He glanced at his watch. "Hmm.. mail should be here any minute now."

True to his words, a second later, a horde of owls of various breeds swarmed into the Great Hall. Harry searched among them for his owl, a female Great Grey he called Hedwig. Sure enough, she had two letters clutched in her beak, and dropped them into his outstretched hands as she landed on his shoulder. One was addressed to him from his sister Holly, and the (A/N: 10,000 word mark!) other was addressed to him from his parents. Grinning, he opened them and allowed Hedwig to nibble on a piece of bacon. As he was opening them, he heard Hermione exclaim, "Look! Millie's got a remembrall!"

"Yeah, Gran sent it to me. She's always going on about how I forget things all the time. The only thing wrong with these things is that you can't remember what you've forgotten until you need that thing." Millie explained.

"I've read about those!" Commented Harry idly as he opened the letter from Holly. "When the smoke turns red, it means you've forgotten something."

Finally, after a very long wait consisting of double transfiguration, potions, and history of magic, followed by lunch, it was time for the first flying lesson. Harry was ecstatic. He couldn't wait. The young boy-who-lived could only hope, however, that Ronald bloody Weasley or Draco Malfoy would not ruin it. Yeah… fat chance.

Walking out onto the grounds by the Quidditch pitch, Harry felt an overwhelming sense of excitement, and as he looked over, could tell Susan felt the same. Anthony and Hermione on the other hand, were pale with nerves.

"Hey guys, don't worry about this. You'll do great. Just keep a cool head and it will all go fine." Harry softly said as they made their way toward Madam Hooch, a woman of about seventy years old with light grey hair and yellow eyes.

"Thanks Harry," They chorused, but still looked nervous.

Madam Hooch began talking as soon as all the first years showed up.

"I am Madam Hooch. Welcome to your first flying lesson. Everyone stick your right hand over the broom, and say up."

"UP!" Harry instructed the broom in a commanding voice. For some reason, even though he had never flown before, this was a piece of cake. To none of his friends' surprise, the broom flew straight into his hand. Susan's was next to follow. Hermione and Anthony, however, were still struggling. Harry decided to help.

"Here's a tip. Just think of a broom as a horse. You see, brooms, like horses, can sense emotions. Hermione, you know better than I do how horses can sense emotions, for you had to learn the hard way. Just calm yourself down, and talk to the broom in a commanding voice, but without yelling. Think of it like you are calling Abu to you from the opposite end of the field when you are retrieving him from the pasture. It is kind of the same thing, except instead of a horse it is a broom you are calling. Following me?"

"Actually, yes. Thanks Harry!" Hermione responded, watching in amazement as she said "UP!" and the broom flew into her hand. Anthony's made its way into his hand soon enough after. Madam Hooch overheard, and added her own two cents.

"Forty points to Ravenclaw for successful instruction. Now, if you excuse me, I must go teach the rest of the class."

"Thank you, Professor." The Quartet chorused. She smiled at them as she made her way to where everyone could see her.

"Excellent. Now that everyone has their broom, I want you to mount it. Grip it tight; you don't want to be sliding off the back end. When I blow my whistle, I want each of you to kick off, hard. Keep your broom steady, hop up for a moment, lean forward, and come back down. On my whistle, three, two-"

Madam Hooch was interrupted as Millicent Bulstrode, in her nervousness, kicked off from the ground too fast, and shot up into the air like a bullet. As the Ravenclaw spiraled toward the air, the class was sent into chaos. Millie ended up falling, and breaking her wrist, dropping her remembrall as soon as she hit the ground.

Madam Hooch raced toward the teary-eyed girl, and helped her stand up so that they could get to the hospital wing. "I want all of your feet firmly on the ground while I take Miss Bulstrode to the Hospital Wing. No one is to touch those brooms while I am gone, or they will be out of Hogwarts before they can say Quidditch."

After Madam Hooch exited with Millie in tow, of course Ron and Draco had to make a scene; it was the only thing they were good at.

"Hey, look, it's that remembrall Bulstrode's gran sent her!" Draco exclaimed, picking up the remembrall.

"Give that here, Malfoy!" Padma Patil sternly said.

"Oooh, sticking up for cute widdle cry-babies are we, Patil?" Smirked Ron

"Wow, you must be thicker than I thought if you think 'cry-baby' is a good insult. Seriously, go and buy some better insults." Harry laughed, turning to Malfoy after he had said that to Ron. "And you, Death Eater Spawn, you disgust me. Hand. The. Remembrall. Here."

Yeah… no. I'm not going to listen to you, just because your Uncle and Aunt are professors. And don't even think for one second I am going to give this stupid thing to you. How about I leave it somewhere for you and Bulstrode to find, like, I dunno, up a tree?" Malfoy taunted, kicking off on his broom. Harry, caught in the moment, mounted his broom and followed him, not hearing Hermione's shouts for him to knock it off.

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

"Is that so?" Malfoy sneered, though Harry could see in his eyes that he looked worried. The coward. "If you want it so much, Flitwick, why don't you catch it?" Malfoy smirked as he threw the remembrall toward the castle as far as he could.

Flying came naturally to Harry. In a split-second choice he decided to go and catch the remembrall. As he zoomed toward the little glass ball, Harry had never felt happier. He had found another thing he was good at. Stretching his hand out, he snagged the little ball in the palm of his pale hand, and flew back toward the ground. Malfoy was incredulous. He had done it. He had saved-

"HARRY JAMES FLITWICK!"

Oh, shit, Harry thought. Trust Uncle Filius to ruin all of the fun.

"Professor, It wasn't his fault-"

"-it was Malfoy-"

"Malfoy and Weasley stole Millicent's remembrall-"

Professor Flitwick shushed them, and stared up at his nephew. "Never, in all my time at Hogwarts… come with me, Harry."

Harry slowly made his way toward his adoptive uncle, head bowed.

Once they were out of earshot, Flitwick seemed to sense what his nephew was feeling at the present time. "Don't worry, Harry, you're not in trouble."

"Thanks." Muttered Harry, twisting the House Washington ring around on his finger as has become his new habit when he was nervous.

They made their way to Professor McGonagall's classroom, and Harry wondered why the heck they were there. He got his answer soon enough.

"Minerva, may I borrow Davis for a minute?"

"Yeah, sure. Go ahead, Filius."

A burly, fifth year boy walked out, wringing his hands nervously. What was the reason for Flitwick being here, with his nephew at that.

"Roger. I have found you a seeker!"

END OF CHAPTER