Tory Potter and the Pathological Liar

Midnight Escapades

‘Suspicious’ was the first word that came to mind as I looked at the notice pinned up in the Gryffindor common room.

Flying lessons would be starting on Thursday, and Gryffindors and Slytherins would be learning together.

Everyone groaned upon seeing that.

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

"I'm more worried about making a fool of myself in front of the rest of the Gryffindors," I mumbled as I glanced around. "These are the people we have to live with, after all."

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

Draco certainly did talk about flying a lot. He complained loudly about first years never getting on the house quidditch team and told long, boastful stories that always seemed to end with him narrowly escaping muggles in helicopters. He wasn't the only one though.

There was also Seamus Finnegan - 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 Charlier's old broom.

Everyone from wizarding families talked about quidditch constantly.

Ron had already had a big argument with Dean Thomas, who shared our dormitory, about soccer. Ron couldn't see what was exciting about a game with only one ball where no one was allowed to fly.

Harry had caught Ron prodding Dean's poster of West Ham soccer team, trying to make the players move.

Neville had never been on a broomstick in his life because his grandmother had never let him near one.

Hermione Granger was almost as nervous about flying as Neville was. That was something you couldn't learn by heart out of a book - not that she hadn't tried.

At breakfast on Thursday, she bored many people with flying tips she'd gotten out of a library book called Quidditch Throughout the Ages.

Neville was hanging on to her ever word, desperate for anything that might help him hang on to his broomstick later.

Everybody else was pleased when Hermione's lecture was interrupted by the arrival of mail.

Speaking of mail, after the arrival of Mr. Hagrid's note, Harry received no more mail.

Draco seemed to notice that right away. His eagle owl was always bringing him packages of sweets from home which he 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! 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 turned red- Oh…" His face fell because the remembrall had suddenly glowed scarlet. "...You've forgotten something…" Poor Neville was desperately trying to remember what he had forgotten.

Draco, who was passing by the Gryffindor table for some odd reason, snatched the remembrall out of Neville's hand.

Harry and Ron jumped to their feet, ready for a battle of fists.

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, Professor," Neville answered.