Lilliana Snape Book One (re-written)

Part 7

After that late night conversation with Hermione, she became almost permanently attached to my hip; I, however, don’t remember agreeing to be her friend but, as the school term progressed, she became somewhat bearable to have around. The boys, however, disagreed and whenever she was with me they would clear off.

 

“I’m sorry, Lil” Harry sighed as we walked through the grounds toward our first ever flying lesson “I just can’t stand her; she’s really annoying.”

“Maybe if you gave her a chance you’d actually get to know her a little bit.”

“You do realise that you’re her only friend, right?” Ron asked “there is a good reason for that.”

“Whatever” I grunted “though I’d have thought that you, Harry, would have taken a different approach to this considering what things were like for you before you came here.”

Harry’s face turned a little red but he just shrugged and muttered “that was entirely different.”

“Not so much” I told him stubbornly as we joined the group of Gryffindors and Slytherins who were all gathered around Madame Hooch, our flying professor.

"Well, what are you all waiting for?" she barked when the last few people finally joined us. "Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up."

I saw Harry glance down at his broom. It was old and some of the twigs stuck out at odd angles but mine didn’t look much better, not that I really expected too much from a school broom.

"Stick out your right hand over your broom," called Madam Hooch at the front, "and say 'Up!"'

"UP” everyone shouted.

My broom jumped into my hand at once, but it was one of the few that did. Harry’s had also obeyed but Hermione's had simply rolled over on the ground, and Neville's hadn't moved at all. Perhaps brooms, like horses, could tell when you were afraid; there was a quaver in Neville's voice that said only too clearly that he wanted to keep his feet on the ground.

Madam Hooch then showed us how to mount our brooms without sliding off the end, and walked up and down the rows correcting grips. Myself, Harry and Ron were delighted when she told Malfoy he'd been doing it wrong for years. “Look at his face” Ron muttered happily “he looks like Hermione does when Lilly beats her in lessons!” Which caused Hermione to turn around and scowl silently at him.

"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard," said Madam Hooch. "Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward 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 touched Madam Hooch's lips.

"Come back, boy!" she shouted, but Neville was rising straight up like a cork shot out of a bottle -- twelve feet -- twenty feet. I saw his scared white face look down at the ground falling away, saw him gasp, slip sideways off the broom and -- WHAM -- a thud and a nasty crack and Neville lay face down on the grass in a heap. His broomstick was still rising higher and higher, and started to drift lazily toward the forbidden forest and out of sight.