I own nothing.
It was one of the clearer mornings since the students had arrived at Hogwarts. The sun was protruding out from under its position of rest behind the clouds, casting a soft light upon the lands below but the most pleasant thing about the weather today was that there was little more than a light, whispering breeze— the last thing Alaric wanted whilst riding a broom for the first time was to fly headlong into gale-force winds.
Alaric was not his father who had apparently been a prodigy on the broom and the only brooms he had ridden before were toys meant for children at home when he was a child. His mood had further plummeted when both his friends had mistaken his general disinterest for nervousness and had been persistently telling Alaric that everything was going to be just fine and that flying really was not that hard.
He knew he was among the minority here— most purebloods children were given toy brooms before they turned six and had grown up dreaming of joining professional quidditch one day with a brome by their side since then but he was not particularly excited to fly despite the knowledge, having no interest in magical sports entirely dependent on another wizard's enchantments. But his lack of desire to really fly brought him neither confidence nor strength, it seemed to do the opposite instead and the subtle tension laced across the atmosphere had drained him of whatever interest might otherwise have as he stood on the sloping front lawns of Hogwarts in front of his entire year set from Slytherin.
Draco Malfoy had tried to break the tension and assert his dominance with a jab at the few lions present for the absence of most of their housemates who were running late as well as the horrid state of the Hogwarts brooms, but it hadn't quite managed to distract Alaric from his own internal concerns, childish as they might seem.
"Don't worry so much, you'll be fine," Daphne beside him whispered with a wave of her hand, "Granger and Thomas are muggleborns who have never flown in their lives. Besides, if Longbottom's grandmother won't have let him anywhere near a broomstick either if half the stories about her are true."
"Patil and Brown wouldn't touch one if their lives depended on it from what I've heard," put in Tracy, glancing far too obviously in the direction of a pretty girl with olive skin and her friend even as she gave Alaric a reassuring smile despite the fact she herself looked to be in a state not much better than his own. "I doubt Moon or Midgeon have done much flying either if any at all,"
Even if they had not completely dispelled his concerns, the assurances they showed had at least managed to warm his heart. But before he could worry anymore— a middle-aged woman with greying hair and hawkish features strode into their midst, demanding their attention through her authoritative presence alone.
"Punctual as ever," Alaric muttered as the first-year Gryffindors following behind her also made their approach, none of them had arrived before the entirety of Slytherin's first year except for Hermione Granger. Daphne seemed amused by his remarks as Alaric saw her lips twitch, a rarity in public and Tracey stifled a giggle behind her hand despite herself.
"Well, what are you all waiting for?" the Flying Instructor barked, yellow eyes narrowing as they scanned them all, "Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up."
Alaric peered down at the broomstick nearest to him and realized at once that observing the broom didn't do his nerves any favours either.
The broom looked ancient and it was clearly battered. Some of the twigs were sticking out at odd angles, and some were so mangled they resembled porcupine quills more closely than what he thought the broomstick should have looked like. It appeared to him as though it would fall apart at any moment, and he could only assume it was magic alone that was holding the weathered old broom together.
"Stick out your right hand over your broom, and say up!" called Madam Hooch at the front.
"UP!" everyone shouted.
To his great surprise and immense relief, Alaric broom jumped into his hand at once, but it was one of the few that did. To his mild dismay, so too did Malfoy's— the boy had been droning on and on in the common room the night before to anyone who would listen about how brilliant he was on a broom. By the end of his rant, he was pretty sure that even the quiet Theodore Nott who always stood alongside him was about ready to snap.
Aside from Malfoy, Rose's broom was the only one that had perfectly obeyed her command though Daphne's broom had leapt off the ground but had not quite made it all the way into her hand, his friends obviously hadn't been joking when they told him others would struggle.
Alaric smirked at her as covertly as he could and she clearly did not fail to notice. Now, if only looks could kill…
Most people's brooms had behaved similarly to Daphne's though Neville's and Hermione's seemed particularly uncooperative— the former's broom had simply rolled over on the ground whereas the latter's hadn't moved at all. Out of the corner of his eye, Alaric even saw Pansy Parkinson quickly snatch hers off of the ground, but he was fairly sure he was the only one to catch her in the act.
It was almost as if the brooms were reacting positively to a lack of fear since there was a quiver in Neville's voice that only said too clearly that he wanted to keep his feet on the ground. The logic quickly fell apart for Alaric quickly realized he too was nervous but he just hid it much better than the pale, shaky Gryffindor. He found it greatly amusing when he discovered that Draco was among those who had his mechanics corrected, despite the number of hours he had spent preaching his experience on a broom before most of their house.
"I have been doing it this way for years!" Draco drawled in a voice that was surprisingly condescending for an eleven-year-old when Madan Hooch had corrected him.
"Well, it's not my fault that you have been doing it wrong for years, Mister Malfoy." Madam Hooch was quick to respond and her comment shut Draco up in a hurry.
Alaric was mildly satisfied when her only acknowledgement of his form was an approving nod, but that satisfaction was short-lived when Ronald Weasley got the same treatment a minute later. Madam Hooch spent the next number of minutes showing them how to mount their brooms without sliding off the end before she strode purposefully up the rows of students, firmly correcting their position as she went. Most had their grips corrected, including Alaric.
"Now when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard," said Madam Hooch. Alaric listened intently, ignoring Tracy's string of excited whispers from beside him. "Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle, three… two…."
Screams filled the courtyard as Neville shot into the sky like a cork before Hooch could finish her count. She called up to the rapidly rising figure but it was to no avail— if he heard her over his own vocal protestations but Neville clearly had neither the confidence nor the ability to try and heed her words.
His broom was steadily rising faster and faster into the air and Alaric could see his grip was sliding. He was doubtful the boy would manage to keep hold of the broomstick for more than a few seconds longer and his assumption was proven correct a few moments later when the slightly pudgy finally lost grip on his broomstick and plummeted to the earth like a stone.
Alaric realized he would hit the ground before it happened and had almost used his magic to prevent the crash, but the audible cracking sound that rang across the clearing before he could act which was only accompanied by the Gryffindor's forceful grounding made him cringe along with all of the others. He wasn't sure what would be worse; breaking a bone or crying in public, but Neville had done both. Madam Hooch rushed over and bent over Neville, her face nearly as pale as his own as she examined his prone and shaking form with clinical intensity.
"Broken wrist. It's all right, up you get," Alaric heard her mutter under her breath before she turned to the rest of the class. "None of you are to so much as move an inch 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."
Alaric considered that warning far too cliche to result in anything but complete chaos, and Madam Hooch apparently thought the same as she paused in her exit only long enough to glare at the lot of them in warning before moving onwards with quietly sobbing Neville Longbottom by her side.
He was proven correct less than a minute later when Draco burst into laughter no sooner were they out of earshot, Crabbe and Goyle mimicking his guffawing as stupidly as ever. "Did you see his face, the great lump!"
Most of the gathered Slytherins joined in, but Alaric was not among them. A small frown marred his features, though he hid it from those present the best he could. He had no fondness for Draco and neither did he want to involve himself with him or any of his other friends, but he found it very difficult to laugh at somebody like Neville.
"Shut up, Malfoy," snapped Parvati Patil, intervening before he could.
"Ooh, sticking up for Longbottom?" jeered Pansy, glaring at Parvati mockingly, "Never thought you'd like fat little crybabies one day, Parvati."
That shut Patil up effectively, though the exact subtleties went over Alaric head. He did notice how nobody seemed to openly rage at Pansy for her remarks though, and he had a strong suspicion that wouldn't have been the case had it been Draco who'd interjected. Besides, there was more to that exchange than he had thought— the obvious bit was that Pansy had used Parvati's first name, which Alaric knew meant they knew each other in some way though it clearly was not overly positive.
In his seconds of pondering, Alaric almost did not see Malfoy quickly darting forward and snatching something up from the ground. When he straightened up, he was grinning broadly and he could see something transparent shining in his fist. It took Alaric a moment to identify exactly what it was he held but the point was moot because Draco announced it loud and clear not a second later. "Look! It's that stupid thing Longbottom's gran sent him."
The Remembrall glittered in the sun as he held it up, and Alaric's gut tightened as conflicting emotions raged within him but once again, he was beaten to the punch as another voice interjected before he could.
"Give it here, Malfoy," A quiet voice cut in even as Crabbe and Goyle tensed, obviously ready to fight back if needed. The gathered crowd was slower to react but they went completely quiet a moment later as the Girl-Who-Lived slowly but deliberately stepped forward, coming face to face with the significantly taller Malfoy Heir with her hand outstretched.
Draco pulled the ball lazily behind his back, but Alaric could not help but notice how tense his shoulders seemed, "Give it to you, Potter? Why would I do such a thing?"
Rose Potter frowned, clearly doing her best to keep a handle on her temper even as her fingers twitched subtly in anticipation, ready to summon her wand at a moment's notice. "Because it's an antique family heirloom! His grandmother gave that to him and that means something, even if you can't understand it!"
"How quaint..." Draco paused for a moment before lips just curved upwards, Crabbe and Goyle snickering after him as the frown Alaric wore deepened, "No, I don't think I will. I think maybe I'll help Longbottom out. Maybe if I give him a good enough reason, the stupid oaf might even learn to fly."
"I don't think taking a family heirloom from the scion of a pureblood house would be the wisest course of action, Draco," Alaric finally intervened, unable to watch it any longer even as everybody turned in shock to the green side of the clearing— many sets of surprised eyes turning upon the raven-haired boy who had spoken.
Daphne elbowed him in the ribs, subtly indicating he was making a mistake. She was right, he knew as well as she did that it was an unspoken rule inside Slytherin House that they were not to oppose one another in the open. Several gears whirred in Alaric's mind at that reminder and his eyes sharpened as his mind debated the pros and cons of his invention in a spectacle that was quickly escalating. It was no more than a children's fight but he knew he would be choosing a side if he were to intervene.
Malfoy shot Alaric a look that was half calculating and half confused but Rose interjected once again before he could say anything. "Give it here!"
The distraction was all Draco had needed, who ignored the redhead marching towards him with stiffened shoulders and a resolute expression in favour mounted one of the brooms and rose steadily into the air. It did not seem as though he had been joking about his abilities now. His grip might have been wrong, but Draco looked very comfortable in the sky and he leered down at Rose with obvious arrogance and no small amount of smugness.
"Come and get it, Potter," he called down.
"Don't!" screeched Hermione Granger, wide-eyed. "You'll get in terrible trouble—"
But Rose was in no mood to listen. She had already mounted the broom and was now soaring skywards, shooting towards Draco like a vengeful meteorite.
The blond barely managed to barrel-roll in time, causing the Girl-Who-Lived to fly through the space his head had occupied just a second earlier. But as soon as he turned, Rose rocketed at Draco once again— this time ready for an evasive manoeuvre.
Draco tried to dodge to the side, but Rose thrust out her elbow, which slammed painfully into the bridge of the bond's nose, causing him to elicit a loud yelp and for a thick stream of blood to begin trickling from his nostrils like crimson droplets from a tap left on low. The Malfoy heir quickly flew backwards, creating distance between them even as sneered in hatred. Blood was running down his mouth and his eyes were obviously livid as he glared back towards Rose, hovering some ten feet in front of him. "Fine!" he spat. "You want the stupid ball? Catch!"
The next thing Alaric knew, Draco had hurled the Remembrall towards the ground and he suddenly felt a bit guilty for what was about to happen despite the fact that he had no hand in it.
Except it didn't.
Rose dove as if she were possessed, earning collective screams from those gathered far below...
Screams that turned into exclamations of awe and wonderment as right before it looked as though she would fatally headbutt the grass, Rose's hand shot out and closed around the Remembrall. She just barely managed to pull his broom out of the dive in time to avoid certain disaster though her feet did hit the ground, sending her sprawling across the grass with the glass artifact she had just caught rolling through the grass.
"ROSE POTTER!"
And his suddenly returned when he saw Professor McGonagall striding towards them, shaking with what appeared to be rage as she glared towards her student with a gleam in her eyes Alaric could only assume to be anger.
Draco looked extremely smug despite his crimson mask, but Alaric couldn't help but think Rose could have avoided whatever punishment was about to befall him had she been smarter about it, had he intervened properly rather than considering the worthless dynamics of house politics. Those thoughts remained at the back of his mind even after the class was told to return to the castle.
Thanks for reading.
