Supernatural and the Philosopher's Stone

The Midnight Duel

Flying lessons would be starting on Thursday--and Gryffindor and Slytherin would be learning together.

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

He had been looking forward to learning to fly more than anything else. So was I, actually.

"You don't know that you'll make a fool of yourself," Ron said reasonably.

"Yeah," I said. "Who knows, you might be good. You never know, just don't give up on it."

"Anyhow, I know the Malfoys' always going on about how good they are at Quidditch, but I bet that's all talk."

I nodded. "No doubt about it."

The Malfoys certainly did talk about flying a lot. They complained loudly about first years never getting on the house Quidditch teams and told long, boastful stories that always seemed to end with him narrowly escaping Muggles in helicopters. He wasn't the only one, though: the way 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 Charlie's old broom. Everyone from wizarding families talked about Quidditch constantly. Ron had already had a big arguement with Dean Thomas, who shared their dormitory, about soccer. Ron couldn't see what was exciting about a game with only one ball where no one was allowed to fly.

Neville had never been on a broomstick in his life, because his grandmother never let him near one. Privately, I had a feeling she had a good reason, due to the extraordinary number of accidents even with both feet on the ground he had.

Hermione Granger was almost nervous about flying as Neville was. This was something you couldn't learn by heart out if a book--not that she hadn't tried. At breakfast on Thursday she bored us all with stupid flying tips she'd gotten out of a library book called Quidditch Through the Ages. Neville was hanging on to her every word, desperate for anything that might help him hang on to his broomstic later, but everybody else was very pleased when Hermione's lecture was interruptsd by the arrival of the mail.

Harry hadn't gotten a single letter since Hagrid's note and I hadn't recieved anything from my brothers until now, something that the Malfoys had been quick to notice, of course. Their eagle owl was always bringing them packages of sweets from home, which they opened gloatingly at the Slytherin table. 

A barn owl brought Neville a small package from his grandmother. He opened it excitedly and showed us a glass ball the size of a large marble, which seemed to be full of white smoke.

"It's a Remembrall!" He 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..." His face fell, because the Remembrall had suddenly glowed scarlet, "...you've forgotten something..."

Neville was trying to remember what he'd forgotten when Draco and Hestia Malfoy, who were passing the Gryffindor table, snatched the Remembrall out of his hand as Nightwish flew in with a letter in her beak. Hestia snatched the letter out of my hand.

Harry, Ron, and I jumped to our feet. We were half hoping for a reason to fight them, but Professor McGonagall, who could spot trouble quicker than any teacher in the school, was there in a flash.

"What's going on?"

"Malfoy's got my Remembrall and her letter, Professor."

Scowling, Draco quickly dropped the Remembrall back on the table and Hestia dropped my letter on the floor.

"I know what you were trying to do, Hestia," I spoke softly to Hestia, so McGonagall didn't hear. "I would cut my baloney if I were you when my brothers come. They will take you head on, no questions asked."