CRIMSON TEARS | Harry Potter and the Philospher's Stone [1]

𝘃𝗶𝗶𝗶 | 𝗳𝗹𝘆𝗶𝗻𝗴

That weekend a notice appeared in the Gryffindor Common Room, telling First Years that their first flying lesson would be the coming Thursday. It was with Slytherin, making it their fourth class that they shared.

Anyone from wizarding families could say that they'd flown a broomstick at least three times before coming to Hogwarts. Gwen herself had been taught by her brothers, and she had told Harry and Ron about the time she'd nearly crashed into the neighbours' house over the hill. Ron had told anyone that would listen about the time he nearly crashed his brother Charlie's broom into a glider. Seamus Finnigan had been gushing about the fact that he'd spent most of his childhood zooming around on his broomstick. Draco Malfoy, who seemed to talk about flying the most, told many exaggerated stories of him flying so fast and high that every time, he had narrowly missed Muggles in helicopters.

Harry, who was clearly excited about learning to fly, also seemed a bit downcast by the idea. When Gwen had asked him what was wrong the morning of their first lesson, he had said that he was ever-so excited about making a fool of himself in front of Malfoy.

'You won't make a fool of yourself,' she said. 'Malfoy goes on about flying a lot but I promise you, it's all talk.' She had an avid memory of her and Draco learning to fly when they were six or seven, and how he had been too scared to even kick off the ground. She didn't believe that he would have improved in any way, given that he was secretly a coward behind his big, pompous facade.

Hermione and Neville were probably two of the most nervous. Flying was something you couldn't learn from a book, much to Hermione's dismay, and Neville had never been on a broom in his life. He said that his grandmother had never let him, which Gwen secretly thought was a good move on her side, as he seemed to always be getting into accidents, even with both feet on the ground.

At breakfast that morning, Hermione was boring everyone with a long list of tips on flying that she'd read in a book from the library, and Neville was hanging onto her every word.

Clara and Gwen were having their own conversation about flying. Clara had never flown in her life, but she was very excited.

'Is it just brooms?' she was asking. 'Or do we have, like, flying carpets and stuff?'

Gwen's fork stopped midair to her mouth. She looked at Clara. 'Carpets?'

'Yeah, you know, from Aladdin.'

It must be a Muggle story, she thought. That old prejudice she had tried to push aside pushed from deep inside her mind, but she brushed it away immediately. Her hair turned deep purple, betraying her private shame.

'Just broomsticks,' she told her, willing her hair to go back to normal. 'You'll see later anyway.' She nodded to Clara's untouched breakfast. 'You should eat.'

Clara nodded. Her low appetite showed the nerves she was hiding, so Gwen placed a hand on her arm.

'It will be fun,' she said. 'We won't be flying too much in the first lesson, just the basics, you know. Hovering above the ground and things. You'll love it.' She reached over, picking up Clara's fork. She spooned some scrambled eggs onto the cutlery and held it up. 'Come on. Eat.'