Clara Black. Harry Potter's Cousin

Chapter 7

Draco Malfoy is an annoying twat. At least, I only have to put up with him during double potions. That is until I went down for breakfast a week since our visit to Hagrid. On the Gryffindor notice board, a new notice said that Gryffindors would be taking flying lessons with the Slytherins. 

"Perfect." I said sarcastically. "I always wanted to spend more time with Draco."

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

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

And talk Draco does. Draco's always complaining about first years never getting on House Quidditch teams. He was also telling long, boastful stories that always end with him telling everyone he narrowly escapes Muggles in helicopters. 

While that's a bunch of bull, other kids tell more believable stories. Seamus, the way he says it, pretty much grew up on a broomstick. Ron will tell anyone who'd listen to him about almost hitting a hang glider on, his brother, Charlie's old broom. 

Mom's taken me out of the city to someplace secluded and let me fly on her broom as she cheers down below. 

And all the kids who grew up with wizard parents talk about Quidditch constantly. 

Neville's never been on a broomstick, ever, because his grandmother won't let him ride one. Personally, I think that was a smart idea, considering the number of accidents Neville has with both feet on the ground. 

Hermione was just as stressed out as Neville about flying. Flying on a broom just isn't one of those things you can learn from a book-not that she hasn't tried. Right now, during breakfast, she's boring us all with flying tips she got from Quidditch Through the Ages. Neville was the only one clinging to her every word. I hope it helps him not get himself killed when it comes time to fly later. 

Neither Harry nor I had gotten any mail since last Friday. A fact Malfoy had been quick to notice. I was thinking about writing Mom tonight, and telling her to also send Harry stuff, just to keep Malfoy from holding that over his head.

A brown owl brought Neville a package from his grandma. He opened it excitedly and showed us a Remembrall. I'd never seen one before. It was a glass ball the same size us a marble white smoke looking stuff inside it.

"It's a Remembrall," Neville explained. "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. . ." Neville's face fell, because the Remembrall had just turned scarlet. ". . . you've forgotten something. . ."

Draco Malfoy, who was passing by the Gryffindor table, snatched the Remembrall out of Neville's hand. 

Ron, Harry, and I jumped up. I could tell the boys wanted to fight, but I didn't. Draco might tell. I'm surprised he hasn't already. I don't want to make him mad enough to do it. I don't want to be hated because everyone thinks my dad is a killer.

"Give it back, Draco." I told him calmly. 

"Make me, Black." He said putting emphasis on my last name.

Professor McGonagall came over then. She can sense trouble faster than any other teacher in all of Hogwarts. 

"What's going on?" She asked, looking from Draco, to me, to the still standing Ron and Harry backing me.

"Draco has Neville's Remembrall, Professor." I said smoothly. Ha, Ha, Draco's in trouble.

Scowling, Draco handed the Remembrall to me. I gave it to Neville.