Nothing to say here except REVIEW PLEASE! ^^
Ok, think. You are at the last moments of your life, falling at ninety an hour, with nothing but an old broom to break your fall. What do you do? Of course, the logical answer is to cue in flashbacks.
Edward saw his life flash past him. He saw his father and mother, his brother, the very first mission in Youswell. Of all people to remember in the last moments of his life, Edward saw the ugly face of Lieutenant Yoki. He hoped Yoki was grateful. Yoki was not falling to his death like him. Yoki should probably thank God for serving time in prison instead of rushing to the ground at an alarming speed. His assistant, Lyra, should probably do the same.
Funny, what your mind thinks of as you are about to die.
Lyra. Wasn't she the alchemist who could make use of compressed cold air?
And Edward did a very stupid thing. He let go of the broom and plunged down faster.
Screaming, Edward clapped his hands and spread them in front of him. The air below him compressed into a hot tiny space and whirled upwards. Suddenly, Edward was no longer falling.
But Newton's law came into play. Exert a force, an equal and opposite force is exerted back on you. Edward's legs crumpled underneath him when he stopped abruptly in midair. He winced painfully as if he had just slammed into hard, solid ground. Air or hard cement was the same thing when it came to physics. Both of them could kill you with a little inertia.
Edward was glad that he landed on his automail leg instead of his flesh one. However, he would not be glad if Winry found out about the condition of his automail.
The broom fell towards him and Edward grabbed it weakly before it could hit him on his head.
When he finally recovered, Edward stood up shakily in the air and mounted the broom. He imagined the array he wanted in his head and allowed the air to guide him safely back down to the ground.
His knees felt weak when he touched down but he did not care. All Edward wanted to do was to kiss the ground.
"Okay guys, we have to be fast. Malfoy and Montague, fly east. Derrick, fly around the perimeter. Go! Make sure Elric's okay!"
"I'm here!" Edward croaked from his ungraceful position on the ground.
Flint whirled around and the panic faded from his face, His shoulders sagged.
"Heavens! You're alright!" Flint said. "I thought you crashed into the tower of something."
Edward was too tired to respond. Once the adrenaline left him, he felt weak and boneless.
"Well, that was an impressive flight. The way you took off so fast. Must be because you're so small and light that the broom responded well to your speed."
Edward did not even bother acknowledging the jibe.
"Good, now try again. This time we're going to try batting."
"WHAT?" Edward roared.
An hour later, Edward was back in the safe, sweet confines of his room, bludger free and broom free. The second time was not difficult at all. All Edward had to do was memorise a couple of arrays instead of inventing them on the spot. That shortened the response time and gave him an extra second to bat away a heavy ball.
A few seconds meant a lot. It was the difference between an Edward Elric and an Edward Elric with a broken nose.
When Flint finally let him go with a satisfied nod, Edward was exhausted. Manipulating air currents and density was not Edward's forte and he was starting to find a new respect in Lyra even though she used to be the enemy.
Edward trudged to his bed but was asleep even before he reached it.
The whole of Slytherin House was obsessed with the coming match. Slytherin had been on a winning streak and no one wanted this year to be the year where to streak was broken. Especially because most of the Slytherins saw this as an opportunity to avenge Warrington.
Many times, Edward found himself cornered as Slytherins wished him luck and told him to rock the Quidditch field. They were all ignorant. It was one thing to want Slytherin to win and another to actually be part of the team and playing.
Even Flint had started to give Edward private lessons in batting which made Edward more tired and shorten his time spent on keeping watch on Malfoy. The only plus point was that he got to keep an eye on Malfoy during Quidditch practise.
Malfoy did not work well with the other boys, much to Edward's surprise. He thought that Malfoy would be chummy with his Slytherin teammates but Malfoy was normally seen at a corner while the team discussed tactics together.
Subtract Crabbe and Goyle, Malfoy was just... vulnerable.
Moreover, the Gryffindors were starting to become nasty to the Slytherins and vice versa. Most of the fights were centred on the premise that the Gryffindors sabotaged the Slytherin beater but in all actuality, Edward suspected that tension was running high with the upcoming match and both sides needed an avenue to vent.
According to Harry, he was having a particularly bad time of it. He could not walk to class without Slytherins sticking out their legs and trying to trip him up.
Edward used to have the same problem with the Gryffindors but he repaid them with a little something of his own, hence the 'used to'.
Crabbe and Goyle were assigned by Flint to try and sabotage the Gryffindor seeker as a form of payback but Harry was accompanied everywhere he went by Gryffindors which caused blockages in the hallway.
It got so bad that someone had even tried to slip vomiting potion into Edward's food. His food, for goodness sake! But Goyle, being the glutton he was, snatched up the duck Edward had been saving and promptly swallowed it before Edward could stop him.
The entire Slytherin table could not stomach their food after they saw pieces of Goyle flavoured food across the table.
Only Crabbe continued to eat.
Edward hoped that the Quidditch game would be over soon. He wanted his plate vomit-free.
Every night, Edward would consult his map (he never erased it since it saved him the trouble of using the wand). He began to notice a pattern. There was only one Granger after all lessons ended for that day and two Grangers when lessons were ongoing. Aside from that anomaly, Malfoy was where he should be. There was also no sign of Sirius Black in Hogwarts.
The night before the game, everyone in Slytherin took turns to give Edward more pressure to win. Edward slipped into the bedroom before anyone could chase him down to give him tips on how to smash Gryffindors in the nose in midair.
Edward carefully placed a chair against the door and took out the map. He searched for Malfoy's name first and noticed he was in his dormitory a little earlier than he always would. Next, he searched for Granger. Yup, only one Granger.
The only people who were walking through the corridors at night were Filch and the ghosts. Everyone seemed to be in their own beds. Except one person.
Edward squinted at two dots in one of the dorm beds in Gryffindor. One of them was labelled Ronald Weasley, the other Peter Pettigrew, a name he did not recognise. That was odd. Why were the two boys doing anyway?
Edward shoved the map into the drawer. He stubbornly refused to erase the map despite the off chance that someone would find it. Edward Elric did not like magic. And he was sure that tomorrow, he was not going to like it any more.
Earlier in the evening, Edward had mailed his daily letter to Alphonse. Today's letter was particularly short.
Al, if you do not hear anything from me the next day, it means I am a victim of flying brooms. If the damage is permanent, please do not write 'Edward Elric- Death by a broom, killed in action while guarding a white-haired goof' on my headstone. It's embarrassing.
Ed.