Ron Weasley X Reader 1 | A Wild World, A Wad of Wizards, And A Wonderful Weasley

Chapter 16

"It's better to leave it to the professors," Hermione said once I'd told her about all the questions I had, "Hagrid probably has a good reason for keeping this all to himself. It is Dumbledore's business, after all."

I suppose that made sense. What right did I have to know what Dumbledore—the headmaster of our school—was doing with some mysterious package. It was probably just some boring school stuff, anyway.

Unlike the subject of said package, Hermione actually was worried about something. Our first flying lesson was scheduled for later today. Of course, we had that with the Slytherins. . .

The whole house had felt a bit off to me after that nightmare I had, though I still couldn't remember it.

Hermione had been reading every book that even remotely mentioned flying on a broomstick. She'd been scared since it wasn't a class she could prepare for.

I couldn't blame her for being so scared. Flying sounded excited, sure, but it also seemed really intimidating.

What if I flew too high and then fell off? Would there be anything on the ground to catch me?

Neville also seemed really worried about this, and I could see why. He was pretty clumsy. Him and me were really the only ones listening to the tips Hermione had read about.

She'd been giving them out all morning, but no one else seemed interested. I really thought they might've taken her knowledge for granted.

Maybe I could see why the kids from wizard families didn't seem to care, though. They'd all shared their stories about flying.

Apparently, Seamus Finnigan flew around quite often where he lived in the countryside. Ron also said he'd flown before. He told a story about using his older brother Charlie's old broomstick and flying so high he nearly hit a hang glider.

Most of all, Draco Malfoy bragged about his flying abilities, yet I never did believe any of his stories. They always seemed to end in him narrowly escaping Muggles in helicopters.

Suddenly, in the middle of Hermione reading a quote out of Quidditch Through the Ages to us all, the mail arrived.

Fabius hadn't delivered anything since Hagrid's note, but I can't really say I expected otherwise. Who would write to me? The Dursleys?

I'm sure if I'd ever gotten a letter from them, I'd be tempted to burn it. I don't think I ever would, but I'd definitely think about it.

Still, I quite enjoyed when Fabius would simply drop by in the mornings. It was nice seeing him for a small bit before he took off again. He seemed to be enjoying himself quite nicely here at Hogwarts.

The only one at our table who actually did receive anything was Neville.

"What is it," I asked curiously. He started to open it excitedly as he said, "It's from my Gran!" He showed the glass ball he'd received to the rest of us. It was roughly the size of a large marble, and it looked like it was full of white smoke.

"It's a Remembeall," he announced happily, "Gran knows I forget things—this tells you if there's something you've forgotten to do. Look, you hold it tight like this and if it turns red—oh. . ." His smile dropped as he stared at the Remembrall that was now glowing bright scarlet.

I glanced over at him, "What do you think you've forgotten?" He mumbled to himself, trying to figure out what it is that he couldn't remember.

Malfoy, of course, had to come over since things were going far too well without him. He'd been sort of a bother ever since we'd gotten to this school. He'd also seemed obsessed with the fact that Harry and I were Potters. Really, if he wasn't so hateful, he might've been our biggest fan. . .