Chapter 5: The Flying Lesson

The next Thursday afternoon found the Gryffindor first years trekking nervously down to the Quidditch pitch on the way to their first flying lesson, which was unfortunately to be shared with the Slytherins.

"I just don't understand why they force us to take classes with Slytherins when they know we don't get along," Lavender Brown complained.

I rolled my eyes. "Nobody likes them, but they have to have classes with somebody."

Lillian Moon tossed her vivid red hair back from her face and said, "That's not true. The Hufflepuffs think they're just as awful as we do, but I've heard that the Ravenclaws don't mind them nearly so much."

"As if!" Parvati crowed, her exotic eyes narrowing. "My sister Padma is in Ravenclaw, and most of them hate the Slytherins as well, they're just not as vocal about it. You know, brains over brashness – at least, I think that's how she put it."

I didn't bother to point out that not all Slytherins were evil gits; I had earned enough odd looks about my opinion on Blaise after he had stopped me from falling to a gruesome, boil-covered death the previous Friday. I had decided that the incident was enough to merit calling him my friend, and Lavender and Parvati had spent the whole weekend under the delusion that I had a crush on him.

"It's still not very considerate of the teachers to make us deal with them when we already have Potions with them," Lavender sniffed.

"You know, I don't really think it's their goal to put us in classes with our friends," said Hermione, whom I had expected to speak long before then.

"Besides," I said, adding to this logic, "the Hufflepuffs have Astronomy, Transfiguration, and History with them, and the Ravenclaws get them for Charms, Herbology, and Defense. It's really only fair that it's a little more even."

The other girls, with the exception of Hermione, looked at me like I was mad, and Lillian let out a derisive snort. "Yes, we all know you want to spend more time with Zabini, but that doesn't mean the rest of us should be subjected to more time with them." The girls burst into fits of giggles.

I just shook my head and let them believe what they wanted. I had realized by dinnertime on Friday that they couldn't be discouraged and it was easier to just let them gossip about me.

By the time we reached the pitch the Slytherins were already there, and we were greeted by a woman called Madam Hooch who bore a strong resemblance to a hawk. She wasted no time in ordering us all to find a broom and stand on its left side. I stood on the opposite side of mine, and she walked over to me in annoyance. "Right hand over the broom, girl, right hand."

"I'm left-handed," I explained.

"Right hand," she insisted, and I sighed in resignation to stand on the other side of my broom. Goyle, the slightly larger of Malfoy's cronies, sniggered at me, but I just rolled my eyes at him. I doubted if he could tell one end of the broom from the other anyway.

"Now everyone say 'Up!'" Madam Hooch instructed, watching the group expectantly.

"Up!" I commanded, but the broom remained motionless, mocking me. "UP!" I repeated more forcefully, and the broom jumped into my hand. The people around me seemed to be having less luck, and I saw Nott reach down and pick his up off the ground when Madam Hooch wasn't looking.

My confidence grew a little when I mounted my broom and I reminded myself that I had flown before. Maybe I'd never been taught a proper grip – although Madam Hooch seemed to think mine was just fine, as it was one of the few she didn't correct – but I had been in the air before, and it wasn't nearly as intimidating as everyone was making it out to be.

It was a good while before she was satisfied with everyone's form on the ground, and then she followed up with even more instructions. "Now, when I blow my whistle, kick off from the ground, hard. Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly."

That was it?

"On my whistle – three – two –"

Before she could finish her countdown, Neville was in the air, shooting up into the sky with blatant terror evident on his face. I shuddered as I saw him slip and heard the thud and crack as he hit the ground.

Madam Hooch bent over to help Neville to his feet, and I couldn't help but wince in sympathy for the awkward angle of his wrist, which was obviously broken.

"None of you is to move 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'," she warned before she led a whimpering Neville away from the rest of the class.

As soon as she was out of earshot, the Slytherins were all hooting and doubled over with laughter. "Did you see his face, the great lump?" Malfoy crowed. He seemed absolutely delighted at Neville's misfortune.

"Shut up, Malfoy," Parvati said angrily.

"Ooh, sticking up for Longbottom?" Pansy Parkinson jeered. "Never thought you'd like fat little crybabies, Parvati."

"Yeah, because you wouldn't stick up for Malfoy if he fell off his broom," I snarled, glaring at the pug-faced girl, "and he's a ferrety, egotistical prat!"

The Slytherins bristled, but Malfoy looked undaunted. "You know Moore, an attitude like that and you could almost be one of us."

I snorted. "Sorry, but I didn't meet the second qualification of being a heartless loser."

I never got to hear the clever rebuttal he was sure to give because at that precise moment, he bent down to snatch something off the ground and said, "Look! It's that stupid thing Longbottom's gran sent him." He held up a little glass ball that I recognized as the Remembrall Neville had received at breakfast that morning.

"Give it here, Malfoy." I turned around to find Harry, stony-faced and determined, standing just behind me. I stepped aside to allow the confrontation, and Harry took a step forward.

Malfoy shrugged. "I think I'll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find – how about – up a tree?" He jumped onto his broom and soared easily in the air. I wanted nothing more than to wipe the smug look off his face, but I knew there was nothing I could do. There was no way I was following Malfoy into the air – my confidence against him lasted only so long as my feet were planted firmly on solid ground.

Harry seemed to have no such reservations as he grabbed his own broom and joined Malfoy fifty feet over our heads. I could hear nothing of their conversation, but I cheered along with the other Gryffindors as Harry leaned forward and shot toward Malfoy, only narrowly missing a head-on collision.

Then Malfoy threw the Remembrall high in the air, and there was a moment in which everything but the glittering ball seemed frozen in time before Harry turned in a sharp dive and reached out for it. He gathered speed as he raced the ball to the ground, and I turned away, waiting for the inevitable, painful crash.

It never came.

I turned back and found that Harry had landed as smoothly as Malfoy, his hand wrapped proudly around the Remembrall.

"HARRY POTTER!"

I flinched as the whole group spun around in surprise. Professor McGonagall was rushing toward us with a look of fury adorning her face. "Never – in all my time at Hogwarts – how dare you – might have broken your neck –"

Parvati, true to form, spoke up in his defense. "It wasn't his fault, Professor –"

"Be quiet, Miss Patil –"

Ron spoke up next. "But Malfoy –"

"That's enough, Mr. Weasley. Potter, follow me now." I felt a sinking feeling in my stomach as she forcibly led my friend back to the castle, and guilt twisted my stomach. I should have tried to stop him from breaking the rules so early in the year.

For the second time in a single, if particularly eventful, lesson, the Slytherins were all laughing. "Oh, did you hear her?" Malfoy looked as if Christmas had come early. "He'll be out of here before dinner!"

My face contorted with rage and I sprung forward without thinking, intending to maul every inch of Malfoy I could get my hands on. A pair of hands caught my shoulders before I could close the gap between us.

"Let go!" I growled, trying to throw off whoever was keeping me from turning Malfoy into a bloody pulp. "I'm going to kill him, let GO!"

"No!" Ron said through gritted teeth as he fought to keep me still. Two more pairs of hands joined his in the effort to restrain me. I struggled against them, but it was useless.

"You'll get in what, one punch, and then those two oafs will kill you!" Seamus, apparently, was one of the people holding me back. I suspected Dean was the other, but I didn't care.

Malfoy was laughing at me now, and I screamed in rage as I threw myself against the iron grip around my waist.

Another voice joined those telling me to stop being so stupid, and I froze. "What is going on here?" Madam Hooch demanded.

I slumped over, no longer fighting but wishing I could disappear.

"Quidditch?" I offered sheepishly.

That evening at dinner, Harry informed Ron and me that he had not been expelled, as we had all assumed, but instead been made Seeker on Gryffindor's House Quidditch team in replacement of Charlie Weasley, Ron's older brother, who had finished school the year before.

"I can't believe this!" I exclaimed furiously.

"What?" Harry asked. He seemed completely baffled by my outburst.

Ron tried to explain, but his thoughts seemed to have taken a very different path from my own. "First years never – you must be the youngest house player in about –"

"– a century," Harry finished. "Wood told me."

"No!" I said. "I mean I can't believe I got detention for you while you were off getting… getting recruited!" I was eating as quickly as I could, because I was supposed to be in McGonagall's office by 6:30 to receive my detention.

"Oh," Ron said, frowning. "I hadn't thought about that."

"Lucky you," I muttered. After all, he wasn't the one giving up his Thursday evening; he was just the reason it wasn't even worth the hours in McGonagall's office – I hadn't gotten to actually fight, although that was what I was being punished for.

"Anyway, I start training next week," Harry said. He seemed extremely excited, but I imagined he was nervous as well, having never even ridden a broomstick before that afternoon. "Only don't tell anyone, Wood wants to keep it a secret."

The twins came into the Hall just then and rushed over to sit down across from us. "Well done, Harry," George – at least, I think it was George – said quietly. "Wood told us. We're on the team too – Beaters." I shuddered delicately. Beaters had the most dangerous job on the pitch, and it was never something that particularly appealed to me.

"I tell you, we're going to win that Quidditch cup for sure this year," Fred said. He was smiling brilliantly. "We haven't won since Charlie's first year, but this year's team is going to be brilliant. You must be good, Harry, Wood was almost skipping when he told us."

I laughed lightly. This Wood fellow sounded like he had an unhealthy Quidditch obsession, something that had not gone unnoticed by Ron, judging by the bemused look on his face.

"Anyway, we've got to go. Lee Jordan reckons he's found a new secret passageway out of the school."

I glanced at my watch and sighed in resignation to my loss of perfectly good homework time. 6:20. "I'd better go too," I told my friends apologetically. "I want to drop my bag in my dorm before I head up to McGonagall's office."

I jumped up and followed the twins out of the Hall.

"McGonagall's office, eh?" Fred asked.

"Might that be for… detention?" George suggested slyly.

"Not a good start around here."

"Not a good start at all."

"But you know, I think she might have beaten our record."

"What record?" This whole exchange struck me as flat-out bizarre, but that bit caught my attention.

"You know, Fred, I think you might be right," George said, pondering this for a second before explaining it to me. "We didn't manage to get detention until the Saturday of our second week."

"You beat us by two whole days," Fred added.

I raised my eyebrows and could think of no other response. I understood from Ron's stories that Fred and George weren't exactly saints, but to be concerned about the timing of one's first detention….

"You know what this means, don't you?"

"Umm… no?" I hoped this was the right answer.

They seemed only too delighted to explain, and George grinned. "Why, it means that you have to uphold the lovely tradition of making Hogwarts life a little more… interesting –"

"– and a little less safe –" Fred added wickedly

" – by becoming an officially affiliated troublemaker."

"And, of course, there's an official initiation process. We wouldn't want anyone to think we weren't serious –"

"– about not being serious."

Fred paused to think for a second while I struggled to make sense of the disconcerting way in which they flowed in and out of each other's words. "For curiosity's sake, what did you do to get detention so quickly?"

"I tried to beat Malfoy to death," I gritted out through my teeth.

"Lucius Malfoy's son?"

"A Slytherin?"

"Did you get him good?"

"I didn't get him at all," I admitted. "Your idiot little brother held me back."

"He what?" Fred yelped.

"He wouldn't," George growled. He looked murderous.

"He did."

"I'll kill him."

"Great." I rolled my eyes. "Do you want to take your punishment for that now with me, or would you like to wait until after you've actually done it?"

"You know, Fred?"

"Oh, I know, George."

"Know what?" Were they always this cryptic when they spoke to each other?

They turned to me with matching devious grins, and I swallowed, hard. They spoke together this time. "We know exactly what your initiation is going to be."

I wasn't so sure I liked the sound of that. How had I managed to attract the attention of some of the strangest people in all of Hogwarts?

A/N:

Ah, the twins. Another couple of my favorite characters, and with good reason. Anyway, I'm not big on disclaimers, as it is clear that I'm getting no commercial benefits because of where this is being posted, but I should mention that any familiar dialogue is taken from the books.

~Sno