𝐋𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐭 ✓

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𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟏: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐢𝐝𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐃𝐮𝐞𝐥

I had never believed I would meet a boy I hated more than Dudley, but that was before I met Draco Malfoy. 

Still, first-year Gryffindors only had Potions with the Slytherins, so we didn't have to put up with Malfoy much. Or at least, we didn't until they spotted a notice pinned up in the Gryffindor common room that made them all groan. 

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 anything else. 

"You don't know that you'll make a fool of yourself," said Ron reasonably. "Anyway, I know Malfoy's always going on about how good he is quidditch, but I bet that's all talk." 

"And, Harry, how do you know you'll make a fool out of yourself?" I asked, giving him a look. 

"Sometimes, Diane, I think you were my older sister or something," Harry sighed. "Why're you so older sister-like? I mean, I know I'll do a horrible job — No buts!" Harry said as I opened my mouth. 

"But how do you know you'll make a fool out of yourself?" I repeated. 

"Says the one who's talking," I could hear Ron mutter.  

I blushed. 

Malfoy 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 Seamus Finnigan told it, he'd spent most of his childhood zooming around the countryside on his broomstick. Even Ron would tell anyone who'd listen about the time he almost hit a hang glider on Charlie's old broom. Everyone from wizarding families talked about Quidditch constantly. Ron had already had a big argument with Dean Thomas, who shared their dormitory, about soccer. Ron couldn't see what was exciting about a game with only one ball where no one was allowed to fly. Harry had caught Ron prodding Dean's poster of the West Ham soccer team, trying to make the players move, so he had told me all about it.

The Fawleys had all flew a little before too. They'd tell anyone who listens about the time they almost killed their family cat by almost hitting it by their brooms when they were flying.

"It was all Lily's fault," repeated Cassie. 

"Um, no, it was yours, since you were leading," argued Lily, pointing at Leslie. 

"Me?  Look at Belle, who has never flown before!" Leslie said, pointing at Belle. 

"It's Cass's fault!" repeated Belle. 

The Fawleys now started bickering, which I didn't try breaking up because I knew they'd never break up. 

Neville had never been on a broomstick in his life because his grandmother had never let him near one. Privately, I felt she'd had good the 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.