THE DAILY PROPHET
BREAK-IN AT GRINGOTTS:
Latest Developments on the Security Breach
(by: SMUDLEY, Andy)
Investigations into the break-in at Gringotts Diagon Alley Agency on 3 August continue; it is widely believed to be the work of dark wizards or witches. The culprits broke into the bank around 1 in the morning, rapidly disposing of Gringotts' security layers and destroyed the Vault 713's door. According to the Gringotts goblins, no items were taken from the vault, for it had been emptied a few days before the breach, in 31 July. "We will refrain from divulging the vault's contents, as per protocol," said the bank's spokesgoblin this morning. Gringotts security specialist are in rapid need to readdress the security system and are even going as far as examining meticulously muggle security systems. The specialists affirm that soon Gringotts will have an updated and modernized security system, but for now wizards and witches are left scratching their heads wondering how safe their money is in the so-called "safest wizard bank in the world". The Goblin Council in the British Isles and the Gringotts Banking Clan urge the wizarding community to remain calm.
When Harry and Ron entered the Transfiguration Classroom the students who were there present immediately started whispering between each other and pointing fingers at Harry.
"Is it really him? Wearing the glasses?"
"Yeah, didn't you see him during the sorting?"
"Hey, Potter! Come sit at my side."
"Can I have an autograph, Harry?"
The classroom was quickly becoming a clusterfuck of Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs trying to get a hold of Harry and snatch him out of Ron's reach. That is, until consecutive banging sounds echoed throughout the room and all of them looked at the front of the classroom.
"I will have none of that in this class!" The stern voice of Professor McGonagall warned, her hands on the blackboard. "You will sit yourselves right this instant, unless you want your houses to lose 100 points each right in the first day of school."
That seemed to hold some weight with the students, who quickly returned to their seats. Harry turned to see Ron's mouth-opened face of horrific realization before deciding to scan the room before seeing an empty space for both of them just to the left of one Sally-Anne Perks.
"There. Let's go." He pulled Ron by his sleeve. The girl squeaked at the idea of Harry Potter choosing to seat at her side, but immediately deflated when the boy used a bewildered Weasley as a very effective shield between them.
"Now that this is settled…" Professor McGonagall grabbed a chalk and started writing on the blackboard. "Transfiguration is the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts. Anyone messing around in my class will leave and will not be welcomed back. You have been warned, am I clear?"
"Yes, Professor McGonagall," the class said in unison.
The woman nodded and took out her wand, pointing it at her desk. The students watched in wonder as the furniture turned into a pig, which looked and acted very much alive, and then back into a desk a few moments later.
"This is a rather complex example of what you hopefully be able to achieve when you graduate from Hogwarts, but first…" McGonagall returned to the board and inscribed on it words, which she proceeded to repeat. "What is Transfiguration? Can someone tell me?"
Hands shoot up in the air. The woman looked over the students for a moment before selecting one of them.
"You, on the front roll of the left, from Hufflepuff. Say your name and state your answer."
"Susan Bones. Transfiguration is the magical art of transformation of objects and living beings into other forms," a girl that had been called said.
"A good way to summarize it, yes." Professor McGonagall nodded. "Anything else?" Susan frowned a bit, trying to remember something, but shook her head. Another hand shot up in the air. "Yes, Mrs…"
"Granger. Hermione Granger. Transfiguration is the study of magical manipulation of matter, so it also involves the switching, vanishing and conjuration of objects." Hermione said as a matter of fact. A textbook answer at its finest.
"Excellent, Mrs. Granger! There goes 2 points for Gryffindor, for previous study before the school term," said McGonagall. "And 1 point for Hufflepuff, for the also correct answer. Now, open your books on page 7 and we shall start today's lesson."
The class proceeded without much problem. The students certainly felt a bit disappointed they weren't going to do magic, but Harry had been expecting something like this, so he didn't mind. Still, as he made notes about McGonagall's explanation on his notebook, he found himself having a bit difficulty imagining how mages achieved such precise manipulation of the Force to manipulate matter to such an extent. Harry could never imagine that the Force could even do such a thing.
Nearing the middle of the second hour of class, Professor McGonagall ended her explanation and distributed matches around the classroom. They were tasked with the most simple and introductory exercise of Transfiguration, turning said matches into silver needles. Harry quickly found himself in a difficult situation given to him by his biased experiences with the Force. No matter his notes on the theory, he just couldn't wrap his mind around on the application of it.
He had some comfort in not being alone at that at least, because none of the other students seemed to have an easy time with the task given to them. By the end of class, the only one to accomplish something was Hermione Granger; Professor McGonagall showed the class how the match given to the girl had turned pointy and acquired an opaque grey color, although its texture remained the same.
The class after that wasn't that much successful either. History of Magic, a subject that at first glance should be simple enough, was completely tarnished by Professor Binns, a ghost with the most boring and tiring voice Harry had ever had the displeasure of having to listening to. Apparently, the man had been so old that one day he just fell asleep on the wrong place and woke up later to go give his lesson, living his body behind. The ghost got dates, facts and names mixed up all throughout the lesson, which made Harry quickly realize that this class was effectively useless. If Harry wanted to know more about History of Magic, he'd have to take matters into his own hands. Not that he was that much interested to begin with, though.
Luckly, two hours of Binns per week was all that the students had to endure — all of it on Monday. The very next day, Tuesday, started with Charms with Professor Flitwick, who was a much better teacher and had quite an entertaining two hours lesson to give to the group of Gryffindors and Ravenclaws. He was a tiny wizard, half-goblin, who had quite a jovial and joyful attitude for everything. He had spent a good portion of class introducing himself and getting to know the students before starting his lesson on the theory of magic. Harry learned too that Charms was much broader, but much simpler than Transfiguration, though he still expected some difficulty in the subject.
After lunch, Gryffindor and Slytherin First-years were escorted by the stuttering Professor Quirrell to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. The lesson had a total of one hour that day, with another two hours later that week. This class also proved to be quite disappointing to Harry, as Professor Quirrell proved to be a barely coherent garlic-smelling son of a bitch. Apparently, during the holidays, the man had a close call with a vampire, which had sent him into a very distressed state of mind that he had yet to recover from. There was also a funny smell coming from his turban, which the students were quick to speculate was also full of garlic, but Harry thought it resembled something rotting more accurately.
Luckly for him, the last class was Herbology with Professor Sprout, a very enthusiastic and astute older witch. This actually proved to be quite an interactive lesson about the properties and caring of strange plants and fungi, which Harry greatly appreciated. This class quickly entered in his list of favorites because Harry didn't exactly need to figure out a completely new way to use the Force to be good at it.
Wednesday came around quickly too, and Harry would finally have contact with yet another class that interested him greatly — Potions, double-term with Slytherins, taught by Professor Snape.
"Snape's the Head of Slytherin House. They say he always favors them," said Ron apprehensively on breakfast.
"If only Professor McGonagall did the same," a Gryffindor girl, Parvati Patil, said. McGonagall was Gryffindor's Head of House, but it seemed that didn't deter the woman from being fair with all students…
… She also gave a generous amount of homework for all of them.
Just then, the mail had arrived. A flock of owls entered the Great Hall, about a hundred or so of them, and started giving students and faculty their mails. It had startled Harry quite a bit on the first time it had happened, on his first morning at Hogwarts, but he quickly realized this was quite a normal occurrence. As he was a subscriber of the Daily Prophet, Padme always delivered to him the latest issues of the newspaper. It had quite a bit of gossip about him for a couple of days, which made Harry feel like dying inside a little bit.
Today's issue, however, arrived accompanied by a letter from Hagrid inviting him for a cup of tea on Friday afternoon, which Harry easily wrote an acceptance note and gave for Padme to deliver — not before feeding her a treat.
"Interesting," contemplated Harry while looking at the latest news.
"What they're saying about you today?" Ron asked.
"Not me. It's about the Gringotts break-in. I'm actually hearing about it just now," Harry explained. "It says here that dark mages entered Vault 713."
"Yeah, what about it?"
"It's the vault me and Hagrid went to when he brought me to Diagon Alley. We were the one who emptied the vault before the break-in."
"Really?" That flared Ron's curiosity. "What was in there?"
"Just a package, but Hagrid didn't tell me what was it when I asked; said it was Hogwarts business," said Harry.
Ron frowned. "Someone tried to rob Hogwarts? Why?"
Harry shrugged. He didn't know what was in the package, but now more than ever he figured it was very important. No other vaults were reported to have been breached, so the mages most likely were aiming specifically for the package and nothing else.
He wondered if Hagrid would have something to say about it, but regardless, he was looking forward to meeting with the soft giant.
The door of the potions classroom in the dungeons swung open, slamming against the wall and startling the students. Professor Snape entered the room, his robes swinging behind him magnificently.
"There will be no foolish wand-waving or silly incantations in this class," he announced as he got to his desk. "As such, I don't expect many of you to appreciate the subtle science and exact art that is potion-making. However, for those select few… who possess the predisposition…"
Professor Snape closed his cloak around his chest. His dark figure towered over the many students there.
"I can teach you how to bewitch the mind and ensnare the senses," he started. "I can tell you how to bottle fame, brew glory and put a stopper in death."
Harry scoffed at these words, loudly so. Ron shot him a scandalized look, but Snape… Snape glared at him with dark, hateful eyes.
"Ah! Harry Potter. Is there something our new celebrity would like to say?" Professor Snape sneered at him with arms crossed.
"There's no way to truly put a stop to death, professor. It is foolish to believe so," Harry said easily.
Snape's eyes narrowed in a dangerous way. Harry could feel it, the teacher's hate towards him — he had been mistaken to assume the man had only disliked him when their eyes crossed the first time.
"Then again," the professor said through his teeth. "Maybe some of you have come to Hogwarts in possession of abilities so formidable that you feel confident enough to talk back!"
"Potter! What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"
Oh! Harry saw that coming from a mile away. "Mixing them together will result in a sleeping potion so powerful that it is known as the Draught of Living Death." Snape immediately made a sour face. Then again, that wasn't an information a First-year would find so easily, considering their materials. It had been all but a footnote in one of the pages of his Potion's book, but Harry's curiosity had found it particularly intriguing, enough to memorize it.
"Where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"
That actually wasn't in the book about potions. Harry hadn't a choice but to say, "I don't know."
Snape smirked, feeling victorious. "Tut, tut. It seems that fame isn't everything, after all. A point for Gryffindor for your cheek, Potter." The man had considered continuing his questioning for a bit, but it seemed that he didn't want to risk the boy giving another correct answer.
Things did not improve for the Gryffindors, Snape made sure of that. He paired students which each other and started his lesson on the ingredients and effects for a simple cure for boils and then went on to task the students with preparing it. He swept around in his long black cloak, watching them weigh dried needles and crush snake fangs, criticizing everyone, with a few exceptions in Slytherin. Harry was listening absently to his explanation on why Malfoy had stewed his horned slugs so perfectly, preferring to concentrate on his own potion brewing, when he suddenly felt a disturbance in the Force.
Harry looked to his side to see Neville Longbottom's cauldron start to fuming in a way that it wasn't supposed to, the liquid inside getting agitated by each moment that passed, letting out an increasing hissing noise that the boy hadn't yet realized.
"Look out!" Harry ran at incredible speeds in Neville's direction and pushed the boy out of the way, and just in time, because in the seconds to come a green liquid shot out of the cauldron toward where Neville once was. The liquid rapidly got so corrosive that the caldron's bottom itself was melted and the liquid fell into the floor.
Harry roared in pain and the liquid hit his right arm and upper thighs, burning them horribly and causing angry red boils to appear. He gritted his teeth and hissed, his voiced pain rapidly getting under his control.
He looked at Neville, the boy had his eyes wide open, and asked, "Are you alright?"
It appeared that, in that moment, Snape snapped out of whatever he was doing and quickly came over to them. "Idiot boy! I suppose you added porcupine quills before taking the cauldron of the fire? Weren't you listening to anything I said before?"
"I-I'm sorry." Neville went white.
"I bet you are! 5 points from Gryffindor for your stupidity, Longbottom. Now, take Potter to the Hospital Wing at once. He seemed to be just fine getting himself killed for you, so at least do him this much." Professor Snape strolled back to the front of the class as Neville shakingly helped Harry out of the room.
"Asshole," Harry spat out once they were out of class. Neville looked hurt, so Harry added, "Snape, that is. Mistakes happen."
"I-I'm sorry. I didn't realize that I did something wrong," Neville said.
"Don't worry about it. I'm gonna get fixed up at the hospital in no time," he reassured the boy, but that didn't seem to change his mood that much.
Well… At least Neville would take it as a lesson, all things considered.
Sadly, Harry passed the rest of the classes in the Hospital Wing before convincing Madam Pomfrey, the Head Nurse, to let him go. Well, he didn't as much convince her — he actually just escaped when she was distracted, but judging how no one had come to fetch him in the coming days, he guessed it was fine. Whatever salve the matron had given him resulted in the boils and burns healing greatly.
He still figured it would leave some marks, but he could live with that, even though he now needed to order a new set of uniforms from Malkin's. He'd talk to one of the professors later and ask how he could do it.
"You lost the Astronomy class last night," Ron said when he woke up the day after Wednesday. "It was awesome seeing the stars in the skies."
"Oh? Good to know. Watching the sky is amazing," he said dismissively. He watched the stars first-handedly himself for all his life — the view just hadn't the same impact anymore. "Did the Ravenclaws behave themselves? They are awfully chatty when it comes to knowledge."
"Not as much as Granger," Ron added sniggering. Harry hummed in agreement. Granger was an entirely different breed of student, one with a great need to prove herself and be the best.
"Are you doing something this afternoon?" Harry asked his companion. Seeing Ron shaking his head, he continued, "then come to me today to see Hagrid before this afternoon's flying class. I think he'd like to know you."
"Sure!"
After lunch, both left the castle and made their way across the grounds. Hagrid lived in a small wooden hut near the edge of the Forbidden Forest. It was possible to see a crossbow and a pair of galoshes outside the front door.
Harry knocked on the door and they heard a frantic scrabbling and several booming barks. Then Hagrid's voice rang out, saying, "Back, Fang! Back!"
The giant's hairy face appeared on the door's crack.
"Hang on," he said. "Back, Fang!"
He opened the door and let the boys in while struggling to keep a hold on the collar of an enormous black boarhound.
"Good ter see yeh, Harry! See that yeh brough' a frien' o' yers."
Hagrid's hut consisted of only one room. Hams and pheasants were hanging from the ceiling, a copper kettle was boiling on the open fire, and in the corner stood a massive bed with a patchwork quilt over it.
"Make yerselves at home," said Hagrid, letting go of Fang, who bolted towards Ron and started licking his face. Harry thought, very much amused, that the dog was just as fierce as Hagrid, despite looking quite intimidating.
"This is Ron," Harry presented his companion to Hagrid, who was pouring hot water into a large teapot and putting rock cakes onto a plate.
"Another Weasley, eh? I hope yeh don't cause as much trouble as yer brothers — the twins, I mean. Spent las' year tryin' ter chase 'em off the Forbidden Forest." Hagrid said jokingly.
The rock cakes were shapeless lumps made out of — well — a very rocky cake mass that almost broke Harry's teeth when he tried to take a bite of it, but he and Ron pretended to like it as they went on about their first week at Hogwarts.
"Ah! So, that's what gotcha into the Hospital Wing. Are yeh feelin' alright, Harry?" Hagrid asked when they explained what had happened in Potions.
"I'm doing fine. As good as new already."
"Good ter know. Better be careful when dealing with potions," the giant nodded sagely at his own words.
"What really worries me is Professor Snape. He isn't really the most… pleasant of people," Harry chose his words carefully.
Hagrid made an understanding face and nodded. "I get yeh. Professor Snape always say he doesn' like teachin' kids withou' a single interes' in Potions. Says they're too clumsy an' have no talent."
"Sounds exactly like him," said Ron.
"Definitely… But I'm pretty sure he hates me. I know the kind of look he gives me, you know? I wonder why he feels like that." Harry touched his chin thoughtfully.
"Rubbish!" Hagrid interjected. "Why should he?"
Yet Harry saw Hagrid avoiding looking at him in the eyes. He knew something, didn't he?
"How's yer brother Charlie?" Hagrid turned to Ron. "I liked him — good lad, great with animals."
Harry accepted the change of subject without a fight. It didn't matter why Snape hated him, whatever he learned about it probably wouldn't ever result in the man's attitude changing. While Ron told Hagrid about his brother's Charlie work with dragons in Romania, Harry picked up a piece of paper in the floor. It was the issue of Wednesday from the Daily Prophet he had read before.
"Oh, yeah!" He suddenly remembered. "I wanted to ask you, Hagrid, about the break-in at Gringotts."
The big man stiffened on his seat, clearly surprised.
"They say it was Vault 713 that was invaded. That's the same vault me and you visited on our shopping spree, isn't it? Do you think they were after that package you took from it?"
Hagrid now definitely wasn't meeting his eyes right now. He immediately dismissed the question and offered Harry more rock cake. Harry felt himself smirk a bit, as that was an answer in of itself, and accepted the cake out of politeness.
Saturday rolled around; another day Harry had been waiting quite eagerly for. The motive was simple: Flying lessons with Slytherins, by Madam Hooch, mandatory for all First-years. Flying was a joy Harry hadn't thought of experiencing in this new life before he was much older — he planned on joining the Royal Air Force in the future, before learning about magic. At first, when he learned that these mages used brooms to fly around, he laughed really hard, banging his fists in the Gryffindor table; the sheer ridiculousness was just too much for him.
He supposed flying on a broom would be much easier than flying a plane or a ship, but he felt disappointed that the velocity probably wouldn't even compare to podracers or other high speed repulsorcrafts.
"Flying is flying," he told himself. He was a natural-born pilot, a Force sensitive and had years of experience that still felt fresh on his memory. This class would be as easy as buttering bread.
"Malfoy won't stop bragging about how good he is at Quidditch. I bet it's all talk," said Ron quite displeased.
"He likes to brag a lot," Harry agreed. All the time, actually, Malfoy wouldn't shut up about how unfair he thought it was that the school teams never selected First-years, boasted stories about flying that always ended up with him narrowly escaping muggles in helicopters. Harry doubted Malfoy even knew what a helicopter was, especially with the very inaccurate of descriptions he gave of them; he'd call the boy on his bullshit when he felt like it, but for now it was pretty amusing to watch in silence as he made a fool of himself.
Not all students had experience with brooms like Malfoy seemingly had, or Ron and his brothers for that matter. Muggle-borns never flew on broom, but some children of magical parents like Neville had never touched a broom too, proving that these mandatory flying lessons were necessary to some extent.
Talking of Neville, after the whole incident in Potions class, they had become acquaintances, doing some small talk here and there. He was curious when the boy returned to the dormitory one day with a very peculiar object in hands.
"What's this?" Harry had asked. The object was a glass ball the size of a marble full of white smoke.
"It's a Remembrall!" He explained. "Granny send it to me — said I forget things too much. This tells you if there's something you forgotten to do. Just hold it tight like this and if turns red — Oh…" His face fell as the Remembrall just turned scarlet.
Harry raised an eyebrow, waiting for something to happen, but nothing did. "So… It doesn't tell you what you've forgotten?"
"Uh… No," the boy said lamely.
"Sounds useful," Harry said sarcastically.
Flying was the first lesson after lunch. Harry, Ron and the other Gryffindors hurried down the stairs of the castle onto the grounds for their first flying lesson. Neville and Granger appeared to be the most nervous of their bunch. It was a clear, breezy day outside; the grass rippled under their feet as they marched down the sloping lawns towards a smooth, flat, lawn on the opposite side of the grounds to the Forbidden Forest.
The Slytherins were already there, and so were about 30 or so broomsticks laying on the ground, enough for everyone. Harry remembered Fred and George complaining about the school broomstick — they told them the brooms started vibrating when you flew too high, or always flew slightly to the left.
Madam Hooch arrived at the field. The woman was quite a youthful witch despite her age, with short, grey hair, light skin and yellow eyes like a hawk. Harry watched the teacher in wonder; she was quite a beauty.
"Good afternoon, class!" Madam Hooch's voice boomed throughout the lawn.
"Good afternoon," the class replied.
"Alright! I want everyone to stand by one of the brooms and we shall start our lesson. Come on, hurry!" Hooch instructed.
Harry followed the woman instructions absently suddenly very interested in the floor. He glanced at his broom. It was old and some of the twigs stuck out at odd angles.
Madam Hooch put her right hand forward. "Now, stick your dominant hand over the broom and say 'Up!'."
"UP!" Everyone shouted.
Malfoy's broom went right up his hand, while Granger's barely rolled on the ground. Ron saw much success, as his broom did go up into half the way before falling down, but Neville to his side didn't have his broom moving at all. The students who failed continued to shout. Pansy Parkinson, one of the Slytherin girls, was the next one to have a broom at her hands, followed by Parvati Patil and Ron himself.
Harry's broom remained unmoving, it only just clicked what he had to do. He called the broom with the Force and it went right to his hands without him even asking. Eventually, the rest of the students were able to get their brooms into their hands, even Neville.
"Now that you have your brooms at hand, I want you to mount it. Grip it tight. I'll be correcting your postures to make sure you won't fall once in the air," Madam Hooch assured them. Once it was all set, she grabbed a whistle and showed it to the class.
"Once I blow my whistle, kick your feet from the ground, hard," she instructed. "Remember to keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle: 3… 2…"
But the nervous and jumpy Neville just couldn't hold his anxiety any longer, and pushed his feet off the ground as hard as he could before the whistle had touched Madam Hooch's lips. He rose straight up in the air like a cork out of a bottle, which took everyone by surprise.
"Come back down, boy," the teacher shouted, but Neville continued to rise in the air — twelve feet — twenty feet. The boy's face went white as a paper sheet as he lost his balance and slipped of his broom. Harry's eyes went wide and he reached his arm forward to grab Neville with the Force, but…
WHAM — a thud and a nasty crack echoed through the lawn. Neville was now laying down in a heap. His broomstick was still rising in the air, drifting lazily towards the Forbidden Forest and out of sight.
"Oh my God!" Madam Hooch ran to his aid, her face as white as his. The students following her to take a look. She bended over Neville, carefully assessing him. "Broken wrist… Did you hit your head, dear?"
Neville groaned in response, shaking his head.
"Good… Out of the way!" The witch ordered the students and they obeyed easily enough. "None of you will move while I take this boy to the Hospital Wing! If I come back to find any broom in the air, you'll receive detention for the rest of the school year."
Madam Hooch escorted Neville out of the lawn and, as soon as they were out of earshot, conflict broke loose.
"Did you see that lump's face?" Malfoy sniggered, Crabble and Goyle, as well as some of the students around, joined him.
"Shut up, Malfoy," Parvati snapped.
"Oh! Sticking up to Longbottom, eh?" Pansy snorted. "Never thought you'd like fat crybabies, Patil. But then again, must be your ancestry carving for the exotic."
It was a matter of seconds before Parvati was on Pansy's face, who stepped back. "Say that again!"
Harry went to her and gave her shoulder a squeeze. "Don't bite or you'll get in trouble. That's what she wants."
Parvati looked about to protest, but was interrupted when Malfoy grabbed something in the ground and said, "Would you look at this! It's that stupid Remembrall his gran gave to him."
The Remembrall glittered it on the sun as Malfoy held it up. The orb flew out of his hands and into Harry's an instant later.
"Enough of this," Harry said with finality
"What the hell!" Malfoy said before he could stop himself. The students started whispering among themselves. "Give it back, Potter."
"Why? You said yourself, it's not yours." Harry chucked the ball on his pocket. "Now, be quiet. Madam Hooch will be back soon and I'd rather not get in trouble because of you."
Harry turned his back to Malfoy, which immediately turned out to be a mistake as Harry felt the hairs on his nape rise. Malfoy grabbed him from the back, receiving an elbow in the ribs as soon as he did and falling to the ground.
The boy coughed a bit, but then smirked and showed the Remembrall on his hands. "You want it so much, right? Come and get it!" Malfoy jumped on his broom and ascended in the air.
It seemed that the blonde hadn't been lying when he bragged about knowing how to fly, because he certainly looked at ease while in the air, in complete control of his broom.
"What's the matter, Potter? Bit beyond your reach?"
Harry's hand tightened around his broom and he mounted it.
"No!" Hermione immediately intervened. "Haven't you said yourself just now? 'Don't bite'. You'll get us all in trouble. Besides, you don't even know how to fly."
But before she said everything, Harry had already raised several feet in the air.
"What an idiot," Hermione muttered under her breath.
"Ugh! This is not that easy," Harry said.
He wobbled on the air, struggling to maintain his balance. The wind rushed through his hair and his robes whipped out behind him. He heard screams and gasps from the ground and he slipped a bit to the side while gaining altitude. Harry rather thought that controlling a broom was as difficult as controlling a podracer at extreme velocities, and his lack of muscle memory definitely betrayed him — he hadn't count on that factor.
"A bit shaky, Potter? Figures, not everyone has the potential to be a good flyer," Malfoy mocked him.
Oh, he didn't! Harry felt a vein pop-up on his forehead as his face gave way to a nasty and angry grin. Now, it was a matter of pride; he would wipe the floor with Draco's smug face.
"Last chance, Malfoy. Give it to me or I'll knock you out of your broom," he warned.
The other boy gave him a condescending look. "You can barely stay straight your broom."
"Fine. I've told you enough."
Without warning, Harry leaned forward and grasped the broom tightly with both hands, a moment later it shot towards Malfoy. Malfoy got out of the way just in time, the Remembrall almost escaping his grasp, while Harry continued forward before taking a sharp turn to face his opponent. The broom was indeed vibrating, just as the Weasley twins had said, and it was quite difficult to maintain himself on top of it.
"Ready for round two? This time I'll smash into you if I need." Harry was talking out of his ass, but the only thing he needed was to discourage Malfoy from continuing this madness. This seemed to work, because he saw Malfoy hesitating.
Sadly, he couldn't expect reason to be on the front of Malfoy's mind.
"Have it your way, then. Go catch it!" He shouted and threw the glass ball as high as he could before streaking back towards the ground.
The damned Remembrall flew in the air towards one of the walls of the castle around and Harry flew as fast as he could to catch it before it shattered against it. However, it seemed that Malfoy's unexpected actions affected Harry's concentration just enough for him to forget to focus on his balance. Harry slid of his broom, barely being able to grab it again with his hands before falling — squeaks of horror echoed from the ground. Even hanging for dear life on his broom, Harry still proceeded valiantly in the Remembrall's direction.
"He's gonna hit the wall!" He heard Ron screaming, but he paid no mind.
"Come on," he muttered under his breath as he adjusted his broom downwards and recoiled his legs in preparation for impact. He would arrive at the wall before the Remembrall, that was essential.
His feet collided with the wall and he used the Force to shoot himself towards the glass ball still in the air, leaving the broom behind. Harry extended one of his arms and pulled the Remembrall to him, finally catching it. As he fell, the students — both Gryffindor and Slytherin — were horrified and some even covered their faces expecting for the worse. Harry prepared himself for contact with the ground, using the Force as a cushion and hit the ground full force, raising dust from beneath his feet.
Silence reigned supreme for a moment. Harry got up on his feet, without a single sign of pain or a single scratch, and raised the Remembrall in the air while smiling to the crowd and walking in their direction. He felt satisfaction wash over him.
"That was wicked!" Ron said with a silly grin on his face. The other Gryffindors started cheering on Harry too.
"Nice going, Harry."
"How did you do that?"
"HARRY POTTER!" But it seemed the time for joyful celebration was over as Professor McGonagall came running in his direction. What a shame.
The students parted ways, giving way to the witch to reach Harry.
"Never — in all my years of Hogwarts —" She was almost speechless with shock, her glasses flashing furiously. "You could have broken your neck!"
"But Professor, it wasn't Harry's fault."
"Be quiet, Mrs. Patil."
"But Malfoy…"
"I'll deal with him later, Mr. Weasley. Potter, follow me, now."
Harry promptly ignored the triumphant faces of Draco and his goons as he followed Professor McGonagall towards the castle's insides. He didn't object nor tried to defend himself while at the corridors, that was utterly useless. McGonagall would only be willing to hear him out once they were on her office, and even then, that wouldn't change her mind on acting with disciplinary action. Harry couldn't help but feel a bit ashamed by his actions, as he had let Malfoy get on his nerves too easily — a complete foolishness from his part.
Professor McGonagall stopped in front of a door and opened it, silently motioning Harry to enter before her. He did so and the door banged behind him. McGonagall's office was rather small and simple, which a desk and some bookshelves. On the desk laid a bunch of stacks of papers, a quill and an ink bottle — the quill was moving on its own — a signature stamp and some transfiguration books along with lesson plans.
"Mr. Potter, I can't begin to describe how disappointed I am at you," McGonagall said in a stern tone. "I've seen it all, you know, how you barely managed to stay up your broom the entire time. Your skills are pitiful, I'll tell you that. I can't possibly muster a thought on to why you thought it was wise to go so high up in the air. Thankfully, it seems that your magic saved you from yet another visit to the Hospital Wing, because this time Madam Pomfrey wouldn't let you get away so easily."
Harry winced, but then extended Neville's Remembrall to her. "Draco Malfoy was being a git, professor. He got his hands on something Neville dropped and wouldn't give it back. I didn't know what he was up to, so I decided to act."
"That… Is not your job, Mr. Potter," Professor McGonagall carefully took the Remembrall into her hands and put it on her desk. "Mr. Malfoy's antics are not your responsibility. For your foolishness, you will be serving detention with me for the next week, am I clear?"
"I understand, professor." Harry bowed his head slightly. "What about Malfoy?"
"He will be punished too. I assure you that Professor Snape will be most displeased upon hearing about one of his students making a fool of themselves, especially because it seems that you have bested Mr. Malfoy in some way."
Professor McGonagall grabbed her quill in the air and summoned a tiny detention card, rapidly inscribing something on it.
"You will report to my office after dinner for the next week, starting tomorrow and up to next Saturday. If you happen to stumble on one of the Prefects or Mr. Filch on your way out of my office, show them this paper and you won't have problems. Be sure to not lose it or you might be punished again." She handed the detention paper to him. The quill turned to scribing in another card and, moments later, the card flied out of the window.
"You are dismissed. Return to class. Madam Hooch will be informed of what happened between you and Mr. Malfoy, so don't expect to be up in the air today."
Harry nodded silently and bowed — out of habit — before turning and walking out of the office. Professor McGonagall was quite right in her assessment, because Madam Hooch rushed him into a corner immediately after laying eyes on him and didn't let him on a broom again for the remainder of the lesson. However, even at this, what was amusing to see was that Malfoy too was forbidden from participating at the lesson and had got 5 points deducted from Slytherin from the teacher.
"Not so smug now," Harry said crossing his arms, a victorious grin smashed on his face. Malfoy scowled.
"You'll pay for this, Potter," he said.
"Oh, yeah? How do you plan on making me pay? Call your goons on me?"
"I can take you on my own just fine," said Malfoy. "Tonight, if you want. Wizard's duel. Wands only — no contact."
"You want to duel me?" The thought of that amused Harry to no end. "Are you sure?"
"Scared, Potter? I bet you don't even know that many spells," Malfoy mocked, but Harry didn't take the bait this time.
"I guess I'll gave to use my fists, then."
"Wha — I said no contact, you idiot."
Harry glanced at him darkly. "And who'd be there to make sure of it?"
Malfoy, for his part, decided to shut up at once, and that was the end of it.
His first week turned out to be quite a wild ride for Harry. He wondered what he should expect going forward as he watched silently the other students during the rest of the Flying lesson.