Twice Chosen | Esmerelda Potter

12. Flying Lessons

I'm on the Quidditch pitch already, which is the field where the sport Quidditch is played, which is the sport played on flying broomsticks. Harry is nowhere to be seen, so I talk to Ron. He tells me that his two older brothers are Beaters on the Quidditch team, which I didn't know, nor did I know what Beaters were before Ron explained it to me.

Harry appears beside us, and he doesn't seem as nervous as lunch. Everyone is in small clusters talking except Hermione, whom I feel partly sorry for, so I invite her over to talk with us, much to Ron's disapproval. 

When I turn around again after talking about Quidditch, brooms are already set up on the ground. A tall, thin lady with a whistle around her neck stands at the head of all the brooms.

"Good afternoon class!" she shouts.

"Good afternoon, Madam Hooch!" everyone replies. 

"Today is your first flying lesson. Everyone, stand by a broom," she commands. 

"Now I want you to place our hand over your broom and say 'Up'!"

"Up!" the class chants immediately. My broom comes up to me on the first try. When I turn to look at Harry, his broom is in his hand too. I stare across and see Malfoy has his broom in his hand too. Besides us three, no one else can get their broom to them right away.

"Up!" says Ron in an annoyed tone. The broom whacks him in the face. Harry and I start laughing.

"Shut up," Ron says, still laughing himself. 

By the time all three of us recovered, everyone has their brooms in their hands. I'm suspect that some of the first-years just picked them up at the end.

"Now I want you to mount it," Madam Hooch says, her cloak whipping in the wind. Everyone does as told. "Now when I count to three you kick off the ground, hover for a moment, and touch back down. On three!"

"One!"

"Two!"

"Three!" Neville's feet rise off the ground before she finished. 

"Mr. Longbottom!" she shouts. Neville's broom moves higher. 

"Mr.-Mr. Longbottom!" Neville yells for help. I think he's high enough to break some bones if he falls. 

Neville's broom moves every which way and nearly throws him off on multiple occasions. His broom suddenly changes direction and it comes flying at our group. 

"Out of the way!" Madam Hooch yells and everyone runs in two different directions in order to get out of the way in time, one or two kids falling in the process.

"He's gonna break something," Ron whispers quietly. Harry nods. 

"I hope not," I reply.

The broom and Neville move straight into the air, Neville still holding on for dear life.

Neville's robe catches on a nearby statue, while the broom still flies, drifting towards the forest. Madam Hooch doesn't move and neither do we. 

Neville looks up. His robes are ripping, I think to myself. Neville falls down and his robes catch onto another statue. He slips out of his robes and hits the ground hard. He doesn't move. 

"Everyone out of the way!" Madam Hooch frantically yells as she runs though the group of Slytherins and Gryffindors. Some kids are laughing, but most are worried and sympathetic.

Neville whimpers as Madam Hooch touches his hand. "Oh dear," she says. "A broken wrist."

She picks up a crying Neville and carries him. We watch her as she disappears.