The next day, Harry was just lounging around the house, watching TV and talking with Hermione on the phone. They were both watching the same TV show. It was a cheesy soap opera, and they were watching it not because they enjoyed watching it, but because they enjoyed criticizing it.
"This is the part that always used to make my Aunt Petunia cry," said Harry, rolling his eyes and switching the phone to his other ear (he had been holding it there so long it was getting the phone all sweaty). "When the couple kisses."
"But they're so terrible for each other," said Hermione. "It's that stupid opposites-attract thing. That never actually works. They'll break up, I bet."
"Yeah, they totally will," said Harry.
Sirius was great, it was true, but Harry loved having a witch his age to talk to. They had a lot in common—they had both grown up in Muggle families, they had been ostracized at school, and they were both nervous and excited for school at the same time. It was great knowing he would have a friend right off the bat as soon as he got to school. Making friends was something he had been worried about, but even one ally would make a huge difference.
At that moment, Sirius walked into the flat (he had been out buying groceries). He didn't look too pleased when he saw Harry on the phone—possibly because Harry had been on the phone when he left an hour and a half ago. Sirius gestured for Harry to put the phone down.
"Hang on for a moment, 'mione," Harry told her, covering up the receiver, then said, rather irritably, "What?!"
"That's not your personal phone, you know," Sirius said. "I need to use it to call Mr. Glacier."
"Sir-i-us!" Harry whined. "Can't you wait until this one episode is over? Hermione and I are watching it together."
"Sorry, Prongslet, but I had a prearranged time to call him," Sirius replied. "Besides, you've been hogging the phone for, like, two hours now."
Harry glared at Sirius and waved his hand angrily; he didn't want Hermione to hear Sirius calling him "Prongslet". For some reason, he thought she wouldn't be impressed by it.
"Sirius needs the phone," Harry said to Hermione. "I'll call you back, okay? Bye."
"Bye," said Hermione. There was a click on the other end of the line.
"Here," Harry grouched, handing the receiver to Sirius. "Can you not call me by my stupid baby nickname in front of my friends, please?"
"Whatever," said Sirius, rolling his eyes. "Listen, when I'm done calling Mr. Glacier, would you like to go down to the park and try out that broomstick I got you for your birthday? I can put a spell on the park to hide us from the Muggles, and maybe I can Keep while you try to score goals."
"Wow, that sounds great!" Harry's mood instantly improved. "But wait…we don't have a Quaffle."
"Barbara lent me an old volleyball," said Sirius. "I can probably magic up some goal hoops."
Sirius picked up the phone, then, and dialed Mr. Glacier. Harry continued watching his TV show, but he could no longer concentrate, as the wonderful thought of flying on his broomstick would not leave his mind. Sirius was talking on the phone about the lawsuit, but Harry wasn't really listening…Would he truly be as good as his father? What if he wasn't? It was really too bad Hermione didn't like to fly. She would come to his games, anyway, though, he was sure…Harry knew that if he were to join the team, he would try out for Seeker. That position sounded the most interesting. He pictured himself soaring above the Quidditch stadium, searching for the little gold ball Sirius had described…and Hermione, her face shining with admiration, leaning out into the stands and waving a little Gryffindor flag…but she leaned too far out and fell…the crowd gasped…Harry dived, fifty feet high, forty, thirty, twenty…putting on speed…and he caught her, saved her from a deathly fall, and everyone cheered…and as he placed her back in the stands he soared up again and caught a struggling Snitch…the cheers were deafening now—
"Harry? Harry!"
Sirius's voice shot across the room and jolted Harry out of his Quidditch fantasies. Harry looked over and saw that his godfather was staring at him, one eyebrow raised.
"What?" Harry asked.
"You look a little dazed," Sirius commented. "Do you still want to try flying?"
"Yeah, I do!" Harry jumped up and ran to his room, where he kept his Nimbus Two Thousand. When he got back to the drawing room, he asked, "Where are you going to get your broom, Sirius?"
"I rented one at Quality Quidditch Supplies in Diagon Alley," Sirius said. "I've got it in my room. Then we can go to the park."
…
They arrived at the nearby playpark not too much later. Sirius had rented a 1989 Silver Arrow, expressing his regret that production of the brand had stopped just a year later. Then he performed some very impressive spellwork, casting a spell around their part of the park so that if any Muggle walked by, they would see nothing but an empty patch of grass, and if they walked anywhere near, they would suddenly remember urgent dentist appointments or dinner reservations and turn away. Then he magicked up three fifty-foot-high goal posts that kind of looked to Harry like giant bubble wands. Harry was holding his Nimbus in his hands.
"So…this is it," he said nervously. "I'm going to fly…any minute now…"
"C'mon, it's easy!" Sirius called, whooshing up into the air and throwing their makeshift volleyball-Quaffle down to Harry. "I'll guard the hoops, and you try to get past me to score goals. Your own mother said it was as if you were born on a broomstick—if you try it, you'll love it!"
"Well, okay," Harry mumbled as he caught the volleyball-Quaffle in his hands. He tucked it underneath one arm and held onto his broom with the other, his nervousness jangling all around inside him, just like it had at Dr. Grant's office…
Until he took off.
What had he been afraid of, exactly? This was wonderful! And it came naturally, just like his mother said! Harry tossed the volleyball-Quaffle to Sirius and soared joyfully around the park. Of all the things Sirius had shown him so far, flying was definitely Harry's favorite part of the Wizarding world!
"Good job!" shouted Sirius, who looked excited; he tossed the volleyball-Quaffle to Harry again. "C'mon, try and score a goal!"
For the next half an hour, Sirius and Harry had fun practicing flying. Harry didn't get every goal but he got a good deal. They switched off, with Harry being the Keeper every so often, but he liked being the Chaser better because it meant he could fly around more. Finally, they decided to take a short break, and headed for the ground. Sirius and Harry got some lunch at a restaurant nearby, and Harry suggested inviting Hermione to the park, so she could watch them play. Sirius agreed, so after lunch, Harry called Hermione using the pay phone outside the restaurant.
"Hello?" said Hermione's voice. Harry smiled.
"Sirius and I are practicing Quidditch," he said. "D'you want to watch?"
"What's Quidditch?" she asked interestedly.
"What's Quidditch!" Harry repeated. "It's only the best sport ever! You play it on broomsticks, high up in the sky—I know you probably wouldn't want to play, but you can watch if you like. It's really fun."
"Sure," said Hermione brightly. "You're right, I probably shouldn't fly myself, but I want to learn all I can about the Wizarding world. Are you at the park right now?"
"Yeah," Harry told her. "Sirius put a protective charm around us so no Muggles will be able to see, but you're not a Muggle, so he says you won't have a problem finding us."
"I'll meet you there, then," Hermione said. "I'll ee you soon!"
"See you," said Harry. "Bye!"
After he hung up, Harry headed back to the park with Sirius. They played a little bit more, until Harry looked down from above and spotted a very familiar head of bushy brown hair…
"Down here, Harry!" Hermione was calling, waving at him.
Harry went into a steep dive, the wind rushing pleasantly in his ears, and in almost no time at all he was hovering an inch from the grass in front of her. She looked very pretty in her violet sundress.
"Hello, Hermione," he said. "How do you like my Nimbus Two Thousand?"
Hermione looked amazed. "It's great!"
"Are you sure you don't want to go for a ride?" Harry offered. "I swear I won't let you fall off."
"Well…okay," Hermione said reluctantly, and climbed onto the back of the broom.
She seemed to regret it pretty fast—as Harry ascended into the air, she let out a shrill, piercing scream and clung onto his waist with a death-grip. She looked down and gulped; the park was very far down below.
"Are you all right?" Harry called.
"No!" said Hermione.
Harry nodded quickly, and she screamed again as they headed towards the ground. Hermione seemed like she couldn't get off fast enough.
"Sorry," said Harry, feeling embarrassed. Why had he suggested this?
"It's okay." Hermione looked a little better now that both feet were on the ground again. "I'm the one who agreed to take the broom ride, after all. What do you say I just watch from now on?"
Harry smiled as Sirius tossed him the volleyball-Quaffle again.
"I'd say every goal I score today will be for you," he told her, and took off into the air once again.