Hiya Interwebs! Sorry I haven't updated in awhile (writers block.) I hope this chapter will do. Anywho.. I just wanted to say a massive thank you to all my YouTube veiwers and subscribers! I've hit 100 veiws on my first video and am currently at 14 subscribers. If you haven't already seen my channel then you can find a link to both my videos in my book titled 'YouTube'. I'd reall really really appreciate it if you would watch my videos and subscribe to me. In fact, if you subscribe to me then tell me and I'll give you a follow and a shoutout! Alright. Now I want to find out what happens next. Lets get back to the story.
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I never thought I could despise someone to a point I wanted to use the killing curse and then hex their lifeless body. Yet here was Malfoy, proving me wrong.
I guess the good thing is that Gryffindor first years only have to put up with Slytherins during Potions, so we thankfully didn't have to put up with him so much.
At least, that's what we thought until I came across a notice pinned up in the common-room.
I groaned as I read it and called over my shoulder. "Hey Harry.. Ron... Come look at this."
Flying leassons would be starting on Thursday - Gryffindor and Slytherin would be learning together.
"Typical," Harry said darkly as he read the notice. "Just what I always wanted. To make a fool of myself on a broomstick in front of Malfoy."
I know that Harry had been looking forward to flying more than anything else.
"You don't know you'll make a fool of yourself," Ron said reasonably. "Anyway, I know Malfoy's always going on about how good he is at Quidditch, but I bet that's all talk."
Malfoy certainty did talk about flying a lot. He complained loudly about first years never making it onto the teams and told long, boastful stories which always seemed to end with him narrowly escaping muggle helicopters. What a shove over.
He wasn't the only one, though: 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'd almost hit a hang-glider on Charlies old broom.
Hermione seemed most nervous about flying. It was something you couldn't learn by heart out of an old library book. Not that she hadn't tried. At breakfast on Thursday she bored us all with tips she'd got out of a book called Quidditch Throughout The Ages. Neville was hanging onto her every word- though the rest of us would groan and roll our eyes.
I was very pleased when her lecture was interrupted by the morning post.
Many of us didn't get more than a few letters, Harry and I getting nothing again. A barnowl bought Neville a small package from his grandmother. He opened it excitedly showed us all a glass ball the size of a marble, which seemed to be filled with a white smoke.
"It's a Rememberall!" He explained. "Gran knows I forget things. This tells you when you've forgotten something. Look, you hold it tight like this and if it turns red- oh.." His face fell, because the ball had suddenly glowed scarlet. "-you've forgotten something.."
Neville was trying to remember what he'd forgotten when that dickface Malfoy, who was passing by, snatched the Rememberall out of his hand.
Harry and I jumped to our feet, half hoping for a reason to fight Malfoy. But Professor McGonagall, who could spot trouble quicker than any teacher, was there in a flash.
"What's going on?" She snapped.
"Malfoy's got my Rememberall, Professor."
Scowling, dickface quickly dropped the ball back on the table. "Just looking." He said, and he sloped away with Crabbe and Goyle in tow.
At 3:30 that afternoon, Harry, Ron and I, allong with other Gryffindoors, hurried down the front steps into the grounds for our first flying lesson.
The Slytherins were already there, and so were twenty broomsticks lying in neat lines on the ground.
Fred and George Weasley had been speaking to me earlier today, complaining that the school broom would vibrate if you flew too high and always veer left. I hope they were just messing with me.
Our teacher, Madam Hooch, arrived. She had short, grey hair and yellow eyes like those of an eagle or hawk. "Well? What are you waiting for?" She barked. "Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up."
I glanced down at my broom. It was old and some of the twigs stuck out at odd angles.
"Stick your right hand over the broom and say 'Up!'"
"Up!" Everyone shouted.
Harry's broom jumped into his hand at once, but his was only one of the very few.
Mine had not done more than vibrate violently. Hermione's rolled around on the ground. And Neville's hadn't even moved.
Perhaps brooms are like horses and can tell when you're afraid, I thought.
Eventually, everyone had a broom in their hand.... except me.
My broom had stopped vibrating and instead started rolling around like Hermione's had.
All eyes were on me and the grounds were silent.
Madam Hooch sighed and looked around. "Anyone want to give miss (Y/l/n) a hand?"
"I'll do it." Harry said as he placed his broom back on the ground, walking past a few people and standing by me. He stood behind me and reached out his hand, placing it over my own - the broom almost instantly stopping it's actions of protest. "Okay.. say it with me, (Y/n). Up!"
I yelled the simple word with Harry, the broom flying up into my hand. "Thanks, Harry.." I said sheepishly, feeling embarrassed that I needed his help.
"Any time." He replied before walking back to his own broom.
Madam Hooch showed us how to mount our brooms without sliding off the end.. how I managed to do so on land is beyond me.
I was delighted when Madam Hooch told dickface he's been doing it wrong for years.
"Now. When I blow my whistle, you will kick off from the ground, hard," said Madam Hooch. "Keep your broom steady, rise a few feet then come straight back down by leaning forwards slightly. On my whistle - Three - Two-"
But Neville, nervous and jumpy and frightened of being left on the ground, pushed off hard before the whistle had even touched Madam Hooch's lips.
