Flying, a magical art of a witch or wizard sitting on a beheaded tree, floating in the air and making an utter fool on themselves. How amazing indeed.
Alas I take myself with elegance to the lesson and force myself to not loose the brain cells that being around all these people can cause.
The castle grounds we stand on are split, green and red standing opposite sides waiting for the lesson to begin.
"I've got this in the bag my daddy was seeker for Gryffindor and he was the best and I was taught by him the best, which makes me therefore the best,"
Oh yes, because like everything else daddy has crowned you to be world champion.
It of course makes total sense for one to be the best due to his paternal donor deluding himself into thinking he was the best.
Not to long passes before a cat looking woman with silver hair joins us.
Ah goody, as if there wasn't enough half breeds at this school already. Add a cat to the list as well.
Authority hanging dryly in the air as she walks.
"Good afternoon class,"
"Good afternoon, Madam Hooch," we all reply and i mentally note that she is hard, serious and very authoritative in her decisions. I usually am quite good at reading people and she's easy to read.
"Good afternoon, Amanda, good afternoon." The fucks Amanda?
"Welcome to your first flying lesson. Well, what are you waiting for? Everyone step up to the left side of their broomstick. Come on now, hurry up. Stick your right hand over the broom and say, up"
Following her instruction i stand by my broom and give my broom an authority dominated 'up' to show it who's in control and before I know if I'm comfortably holding my broom in hand.
Beside me Draco and Theo look smug but Theo covers it up while Draco doesn't.
I hear a groan and Subtly smirk at the scene before me. Weasley gotten his broom to hit him square in the face and Evans broom shot from the ground and started to fly away.
It dances around us moving out of reach as the Gryffindors try and catch it for their golden boy. It then gets angry as Granger, Weasley and my sperm donors son call it names demanding the stupid, dusty old thing listens to what they say.
It flew straight towards Charlie and hits him with force and speed in his lower groin area. He doubled over and whimpers in pain as soon as it makes contact but is ignored by us and hooch.
Oh yes a champion you truly are, albeit a tiny charm of windless magic influencing his broom but either way he should be able to control his broom.
"Now, once you've got hold of your broom, I want you to mount it. And grip it tight, you don't want to be sliding off the end. When I blow my whistle, I want each of you to kick off from the ground, hard. Keep your broom steady, hover for a moment, and then lean forward slightly and touch back down. On my whistle...3...2..."
"Ahh" the oversight Gryffindor screams as he's jolted into the air not able to control his broom. How stupid why let a bunch of first years get onto a broom if they haven't any experience. That and the obvious capacity space for sorting important information into his head seems next to nothing really doesn't help anyone.
He begins turning and soaring into the sky
And the air above us as he looses even more control over his broom and magic.
"M-M-Mr. Longbottom! Mr. Longbottom" the panic now eveidnet in her once hardened voice.
YOU ARE READING
The boy who failed to die.
同人小說Harry James potter brother of the famous Marcus Charlus potter (the boy who lived) and oldest son of lily and James potter. He was wrongfully named evil and possessed while his brother was named as the boy who lived. For his sins he was hidden away...
