Dragon Heart

4/philosophers stone

Flying lessons would be starting on Thursday — and Gryffindor and Slytherin would be learning together.

"Typical," said Harry darkly. "Just what I always wanted. To make a fool of myself on a broomstick in front of Malfoy."

He had been looking forward to learning to fly more than any-thing else.

"You don't know that you'll make a fool of yourself," said Y/n reasonably.

"Anyway, I know Malfoy's always going on about how good he is at Quidditch, but I bet that's all talk." Ron added.

Draco certainly did talk about flying a lot. He complained loudly about first years never getting on the House Quidditch teams and told long, boastful stories that always seemed to end with him narrowly escaping Muggles in helicopters. He wasn't the only one, though: the way Tracey Davis told it, she'd spent most of her childhood zooming around the countryside on her broomstick. Even Daphne would tell anyone who'd listen about the time she'd almost hit a hang glider on her dad's old broom. Everyone from wizarding families talked about Quidditch constantly. Daphne had already had a big argument with Y/n, who shared their dormitory, about soccer. Daphne couldn't see what was exciting about a game with only one ball where no one was allowed to fly.

Neville had never been on a broomstick in his life, because his grandmother had never let him near one. Privately, Y/n felt she'd had good reason, because Neville managed to have an extraordinary number of accidents even with both feet on the ground.

Hermione Granger was almost as nervous about flying as Neville was. This was something you couldn't learn by heart out of a book — not that she hadn't tried.

Y/n was walking with Draco and as they passed the Gryffindor table, he snatched the Rememberball out of his hand.

Harry and Ron jumped to their feet. They were half hoping for a reason to fight Malfoy, but Professor McGonagall, who could spot trouble quicker than any teacher in the school, was there in a flash.

"What's going on?"

"Malfoy's got my Rememberball, Professor."

Scowling, Malfoy quickly dropped the Rememberball back on the table.

"Just looking," he said, and he sloped away with Crabbe and Goyle behind him.

"I'm sorry about that," Y/n said Neville. His face turned red.

"O-oh, it's ok. He returned it didn't he," Neville managed to say.

At three-thirty that afternoon, Y/n, Daphne, and the other Slytherins hurried down the front steps onto the grounds for their first flying lesson. It was a clear, breezy day, and the grass rippled under their feet as they marched down the sloping lawns toward a smooth, flat lawn on the opposite side of the grounds to the forbidden forest, whose trees were swaying darkly in the distance.

The Gryffindors took a while to arrive, and so were twenty broom-sticks lying in neat lines on the ground. Y/n had heard Marcus Flint complain about the school brooms, saying that some of them started to vibrate if you flew too high, or always flew slightly to the left.

Their teacher, Madam Hooch, arrived. She had short, gray hair,and yellow eyes like a hawk.

"Well, what are you all waiting for?" she barked. "Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up."

Y/n glanced down at her broom. It was old and some of the twigs stuck out at odd angles.

"Stick out your right hand over your broom," called Madam Hooch at the front, "and say 'Up!' "

"UP!" everyone shouted.

Y/n's broom jumped into her hand at once, but it was one of the few that did. Daphne Greengrass's had simply rolled over on the ground, and Tracey Davis' hadn't moved at all. Perhaps brooms, like horses, could tell when you were afraid, thought Y/n; there was a quaver in Neville's voice that said only too clearly that he wanted to keep his feet on the ground.