A Summoner in the Wizarding World

Chapter 10: Flight Class

The Great Hall, Sunday Morning

General POV:

Neville Longbottom had believed Potter and Granger to be his greatest rivals until he met Draco Malfoy. Despite first-year Gryffindors only having Potions with the Slytherins, Neville's impression of the boy is beyond terrible for within that short time frame Malfoy had insulted his family, got into a fight with him and suspected to sabotage the potions he brewed.

Come to think of it, Neville should really not be surprised at this. Both his parents had warned him of Luciuc Malfoy's son, though at the time the boy had put it out of mind. He thought the week couldn't be worse until he completely jinxed it and saw a notice pinned up in the Gryffindor common room. It stated that Flying lessons would be starting Sunday afternoon - and Lions and Snakes would be learning together.

'Exactly what I always wanted', thought Neville darkly, 'to make a fool of myself on a broomstick in front of Malfoy.'

Contrary to common belief, the boy was never allowed near a broomstick, not even a toy because his mother thought that they were quote 'flying deathtraps'. As such, like most his age, Neville had never been on a broomstick in his life. Not knowing this, he had been dreading flight class more than everyone else.

'I don't know if I'll be bad yet,' Neville reassured himself. 'Anyway, though Malfoy's boasts should be all talk. Old Lucius wouldn't have let him near anything more exciting than a toy broom.'

The person in question had loudly complained about first years not allowed to get on the House Quidditch teams, while telling tall tales that always seemed to end with him narrowly escaping Muggles in their flying boxes.

Seamus Finnigan, one of Neville's 'friends', also claimed to have spent most of his childhood zooming around the countryside on a broomstick. Even Weasley would tell anyone who'd listen about almost getting hit by a hang glider on his elder brother's old broom, not that someone actually believed him.

Speaking of which, two of Neville's dorm mates had got into an argument over soccer. The wizard-raised Weasley apparently couldn't see how a game with only one ball where no one was allowed to fly would be exciting, and although publicly proclaiming that one should accept differences, Neville agreed.

The other boy, Dean, was trying to affirm football's superiority by showing tactical diagrams and West Ham posters when Draco Malfoy, who was passing the Gryffindor table, snatched those out of his hand.

Dean Thomas jumped up from his seat while Ron half-heartedly did so. Though he was hoping for a reason to punch Malfoy, Ron did not want to think that Dean might be right. Professor McGonagall, who spotted trouble quicker than any teacher in the school, was there in a flash.

"What's going on?"

"Malfoy's got my football posters, Professor.", protested Dean.

The perpetrator pretended to be oblivious and quickly dropped them back on the table.

"Just looking," he said, and he slinked away with Crabbe and Goyle lagging behind. Ron stared at Malfoy incredulously: a pure-blood supremacist looking at a Muggle sport?

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At three-thirty that afternoon, Neville and the other Gryffindors hurried down the front steps onto the grounds for their first flying lesson. The sky was a clear shade of cyan, the cool breeze rippling across the grass under the little lions' feet as they walked towards the castle's training grounds.

By the time they arrived, Slytherins were already present, as well as two dozen broomsticks, ancient-looking with twigs stuck out at peculiar directions, all lying in neat lines. The Flight instructor, Madam Hooch, arrived. She had short, grey hair, and yellow eyes like a hawk.