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The Boys Who Lived

Chapter 4: Flying Lessons

Peeves the Poltergeist was one happy spirit.

One of many ghosts that roamed the hallways of the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Peeves was a familiar sight to the various denizens of the school. That he was the least popular was of no concern to him. In fact, he made no secret that he was thrilled about being one of the few ghosts that were able to manipulate objects in the material world and did everything he could to maintain his reputation as the biggest environmental hazard Hogwarts had to offer.

At the moment, his efforts towards that goal consisted of a cache of water balloons he'd stashed up in the rafters, a suit of armor that he'd spent the morning loosening the supports holding down, and his 'jovial, fun loving' attitude.

Now all he needed was some poor bloke to wander along and...

"How does she do it?" an irate voice echoed down the corridors.

Peeves cackled as he darted through a nearby closed door he knew led to a broom closet, settling in to wait. This was shaping up to be a rather good day...

* * *

This was shaping up to be a really lousy day, fumed Harry as he stormed down the corridor. Behind him trailed Ron and Neville, watching their friend stomp along the floor.

Harry was staring at his wand in betrayal, seeming to blame it for his current mood. "Herbology, I can understand. History of Magic, I can understand! Charms, I can sort of understand!"

"'It's Win-gar-dium Levi­-o-sa'," Ron chimed in irritably. "'Not Levio-SA.'"

"But Transfigurations too?!" Harry threw his arms into the air. "My Dad taught me Transfigurations since before I even held a broomstick! And that's saying something! How does a muggle-born do this stuff so well on her first try?!"

"Harry, you're almost starting to sound like Malfoy," Neville said.

"I've nothing against them, especially her...but seriously!!" Harry wailed. He stopped in mid-stride and spun to face his two friends. "Neville, you're our last hope."

Neville arched an eyebrow.

"You're decent at Potions, I know you can do it! We can't let a girl show us up! Not even Hermione Granger! And not in EVERY BLOODY CLASS!!"

"Face it, Harry, she clearly didn't memorize the entire curriculum for nothing," Ron quipped.

"We haven't had flight lessons yet," Neville pointed out. "I doubt she could beat you at that."

Harry sighed and his shoulders slumped. "I don't know if I should be laughing that Malfoy and the rest of the Slytherins are having their pure-blood rhetoric thrown back in their faces, or upset about having to admit to be second best to a girl."

"Oh we already know you're upset," Neville said. "No question about that. How about we get to the laughing part, we're going to need all the cheer we can get before we submit ourselves to Snape."

"I swear, he must be part Dementor," Ron moaned.

"He's a Veela to the Slytherins," Harry huffed as he set down the corridor again.

He hadn't gone more than three paces before there was a loud popping sound and he suddenly found himself soaked from head to toe. There was a cackling from Peeves as he streaked from his hiding spot, hurling water balloons in his direction.

"WHEEEEEE ICKLE-FIRSTIES!!" the poltergeist whooped. "SO SCARED OF SNAPEY THEY WET THEIR BRITCHES!" Peeves cackled some more and swooped off to shove a statue into a group of startled Hufflepuffs who had peeked out of a classroom to see what the commotion was about.

As the ghost sped away, Neville and Ron cautiously emerged from their hiding spots and regarded the soaked student.

"What do you think?" Harry speculated as he silently fumed. "Twenty points from Gryffindor for getting Snape's precious classroom floor wet, or twenty points for being late after I finish changing?"

* * *

As it was, Gryffindor lost about sixty points during their Potions lesson, twenty from Harry for being both late AND getting the floor wet (since a Slytherin had 'accidentally' upended his cauldron while walking past). Thirty were scattered between Neville and Hermione, Neville for having answered the questions Snape had thrown at him correctly without raising his hand, and Hermione for annoying him with her hand nearly constantly in the air. And the last ten were on Harry again for failing to submit the day's work.

Harry would have been happy to show his innate ability with curses and hexes in their Defense Against the Dark Arts lessons, if not for the fact that they were incredibly dull. Professor Quirrell spent the time all but huddled behind his desk, speaking timidly of vampires and zombies, the former explaining the garlic stench that seemed to permeate the room.

When the hour for flying lessons finally came, Harry was visibly brimming with relief at a way to vent out his frustrations, but he was sorely disappointed when Madam Hooch, the flying instructor, made it plainly clear that she wouldn't have any of them flying on their first day.

"Why did you bring a Remembrall to a flying lesson, Neville?" Ron asked.

Neville stared at the round glass, watching as the insides began to swirl with a red fog. "I forgot to leave it in the common room," he mumbled in a low tone.

By then Madam Hooch had finished her inspection of the class and turned to face the two rows of children. "Stick out your right hand over your broom, and say 'Up!'" she ordered.

It was a small amount of satisfaction for Harry as he instantly summoned his broomstick into the air, closely followed by Malfoy's. His eyes narrowed as he belatedly remembered that the Slytherins and Gryffindors shared this class, as well as every other class, with each other.

As Madam Hooch waited for the rest of the students to get their brooms afloat, he looked over to his side to see how Hermione was faring.

It was another few moments before she was able to summon her broom into her hand, and as she did she glanced over towards him. Her eyes narrowed as she took in his smug grin.

"Is something the matter, Mr. Potter?" she asked icily.

"Not at all," Harry said loftily. "Everything's just fine, Ms. Granger."

"Mount your brooms!" Hooch called out. She started going along the line, making comments and adjusting students' seating positions and their handgrips.

"God, I forgot how much I hate this," Neville croaked out. His eyes, Harry noted, were squeezed shut as he tried very hard not to think about what they were about to do.

"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off the ground hard," ordered their flying instructor. "Keep your broom steady, rise a few feet, then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly."

She raised her whistle up to her mouth, "Three, two, one, *tweet*"

As one the students lifted off the ground. Most of them, like Harry wore a bored expression on their faces, while some of students who'd never ridden a broom before had a look which suggested they fully expected their broom to take off like a wild Zonko Rocket. Hermione and Neville both shared similar expressions of nausea.

Madam Hooch walked down between the two classes again, making sure they didn't try to take off. As she passed Malfoy's position, his face twisted into a sneer as he settled back to the ground. As he did so, he dismounted and raised the handle of his broom to give Neville's a sharp whack.

Neville, who still had his eyes closed in an attempt to stave off his vertigo, snapped them open at the jolt. Reflexively he grabbed at the broom's handle to keep from falling off, yanking it into a climbing angle. With a fearful cry Neville shot off into the sky, Madam Hooch furiously shouting out reprimands as she noticed him.

Petrified with fear, Neville was helpless to control his broom as it careened through the air. His attempts to do so only sent him twisting and twirling, adding nausea to his fright.

He only seemed to notice the large stone wall a few moments after he ran headlong into it, the impact sending the broom off at an odd angle and Neville falling nearly twenty meters into the ground.

"Out of the way, out of the way!" Madam Hooch pushed her way through the crowd that had formed around the motionless body. In a flash she was crouched beside him and inspected the odd angle his arm was bent at. "Broken wrist, at the least," they heard her mumble. "Possible fractured his arm too...well!"

She pulled out her wand and set the stricken boy floating into the air at her side. "I'll be taking him to the hospital wing," she announced as she began to move. "Nobody is to move from THIS SPOT until I return! If I catch any of you in the air, you'll be out of here before you can even say Quidditch."

Harry waited until she and her charge disappeared back into the castle before he rounded on Malfoy, but Ron beat him too it.

"Bloody hell! What was that for, you git?!"

Draco merely affected an air of innocence. "I don't know why you're talking to me, Weasley. I suggest asking your hero why he couldn't even follow simple directions," he sneered. "Especially when he knows he couldn't even fly!"

Both Harry and Ron started for him, when they were both grabbed by the backs of their robes and yanked back.

"Don't start a fight," Hermione warned them. "You know that's what he's trying to do."

"I'm hurt, Granger," Malfoy said. "How could you think such a low thing about me?" He smirked as he reached down and picked up a familiar globe. "You'd think Longbottom would have paid some more attention to this," he gloated, juggling the Remembrall. "Maybe he wouldn't have forgotten how much of an idiot he is, then!"

"Malfoy..." Harry growled.

"Yes, Potter? Oh do you think he'd want this back?"

It took everything Harry had to keep the fury boiling in him to from showing up on his face. "I think he might like that," he said. Then, almost faster than the eye could follow he pulled out his wand. "Accio Remembrall!" he shouted.

Nothing happened as Malfoy glanced down at his hand briefly. He looked back up with a satisfied smirk. "The Great Harry Potter," he said as he tossed the sphere from hand to hand. "Can't even perform a simple charm when he wants to."

Several students, not all of them Slytherins, began laughing as Harry stood there. He noticed Hermione stepping around to where he could see her, no doubt about to remind him that the Summoning Charm was an intermediate level spell, and he shouldn't expect it to work when they were still working on beginner level ones.

He closed his eyes, not wanting to meet her gaze. As he concentrated, an idea blossomed in his head and he opened his eyes to return Malfoy's glare.

"Wingardium Leviosa," he chanted, waving his wand almost lazily at him.

Again Malfoy glanced down at the Remembrall in his hands. "It's still not moving, Potter. Even I wouldn't have expected you to forget a spell we learned just this morning."

But Harry's attention wasn't focused on Draco at all, but rather at the broomstick at his feet behind him. With his spell the broom slowly floated up behind the laughing Slytherin.

Wand still held out in front of him, Harry let his eyes flick over to Malfoy's face, then back to the broom. Malfoy caught the hint and turned around.

"Well I guess you didn't forget the spell, but you've got the worst aim I have ever-"

"Accio Broomstick!"

This time, the charm was a success as the broom was summoned into Harry's waiting hand. There was the slight problem of an eleven year old boy in its way, but spells generally ignore such trivialities.

The impact to his face sent Draco reeling backwards, the rest of the broom shooting over him as he was knocked to the ground. As he fell, however, a reflexive twitching of his hands sent the Remembrall into the air, and the tail end of the broom had swatted it as it went past, sending it soaring towards the other side of the courtyard.

With a curse, Harry hopped onto the broom, ignoring startled cries and reminders of Madam Hooch's warning. After taking a moment to relocate the falling object, he quickly took off, skimming the ground until he was nearly under it.

Only seconds after he'd thrown himself after it, he was gliding back to the group, holding the Remembrall triumphantly.

"Harry Potter!" an irate voice called out.

Harry's smile slipped as he belatedly noticed Professor McGonagall standing amongst the students. Beside her was a bloody nosed, but smug looking Malfoy.

"Well I never," the professor exclaimed. "Madam Hooch informed me she was taking a student to the hospital wing, and suggested I watch over the students in her absence! I come down and what do I see?!"

"Professor..." Harry began.

"Mr. Potter," McGonagall interrupted. "Get down from that broom and come with me, this instant!"

* * *

The students were silent as the irate professor all but shoved Harry through the courtyard doors. After wrangling promises from the other students to ensure nobody else would take to the sky, she'd grabbed his arm and led him away, towards whatever punishment he'd undoubtedly face.

To nobody's surprise, Malfoy broke the silence with a sharp bark of laughter. "Did you see his face when he saw her? Boy, I wish there was a camera to record that!"

"Shut it, Malfoy," Ron said through gritted teeth.

"You know what, Weasel? I'm in such a good right now that I'm going to ignore that. I'll even do you a favor, I wont make fun of your family at all for the rest of the day!"

Ron narrowed his eyes.

"That's right, I wont mention at all how you're so poor it makes my brain hurt to think how you manage to scrape by. I won't talk about how your muggle-loving father is the most despicable blood-traitor in the world. I won't even go into the fact that you're a-"

"Ron, don't!" Hermione cried as she tugged on his robes to avoid him charging Malfoy.

"Let me go," Ron shouted at her. "You heard what he just said, I can't just ignore it!"

"You're just going to lose more points from Gryffindor!" she retorted. "You don't want the all professors to think we're just common street brawlers, do you?"

Ron turned around in disbelief. "Is that all that matters to you? There is a stuck-up, spoiled little prat in need of a good beating and you're worried about getting a shiny trophy?"

"Excuse me, but I can still hear you," Malfoy reminded him crossly.

"I'm just looking out for more than myself, unlike some other people I know!" Hermione retorted. "You and your friends," she spat, "have lost us more points than the rest of the first years combined!"

"At least I have friends," Ron said in a low voice. "At least I'm not some stuffy know-it-all whose only companion is a stupid book. You don't care about anybody else! You're just worried about what teachers will think about you!"

He yanked his robes away from her hand and glared at her. "No wonder you don't have any friends," he snarled.

Hermione didn't say anything as she matched his glare with her own. Then, without saying a word, she brushed past him and strode up the steps to the school.

Ron looked back to see a grinning Malfoy.

"That was brilliant," he chuckled as the castle doors slammed shut. "I couldn't have done it better myself, Weasel."

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