The Dark Prince

Gryffindor Instincts

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. JK Rowling owns Harry Potter.

Flying Class [October 30]

Piercing green eyes locked with chocolate brown ones. The green eyes hardened, and seemed to stress a message. A simple, but deadly "Beware". Unfortunately, the brown eyed one did not understand, and instead stared back with the same amount of animosity.

The shrill noise of a whistle caused the boy with the brown eyes to break his focus and blink. His nervous gaze shot back to the green eyed boy across from him, and he shuddered involuntarily.

Unknown to the brown eyed boy, the regal looking boy across from him, the one he was looking at with such hostility, was his own brother. They shared the same blood, the same mother, even part of the same flesh.

Yet, sadly, both wished for the other to die a horrible death.

It had only been a month, but the two boys had become enemies. Their rivalry went beyond the typical Slytherin vs. Gryffindor rivalry. Hadrian Riddle vs. Alexander Potter. One of the boys knew little about why this rivalry was filled with such hatred. The other knew too much.

Every little task was a competition. Every single win and loss was significant. Flying lessons provided a key opportunity for another small competition, and neither would give up the chance.

"Now stand to the right of your broom, hold your hand over it, and say 'Up'. The broom should shoot up into your hands. Keep trying until you have it." Madame Hooch, the instructor, called out. Neither boy listened to her directions because they had been riding brooms since forever. Instead they glared at each other with resentment and a silent, mutual understanding passed through them. This was another contest.

Each held a hand above their broom, and commanded, "Up."

The broom shot up into the hand of the green eyed boy. He assessed it with a calculating gaze. It was an old broom, and it probably wouldn't go as fast as the broom he had at home. The twigs were brittle, and the handle had a fair share of splinters. Obviously, it hadn't been well cared for. He glanced to his right and saw that his best friend, Draco Malfoy, was also looking at his broom skeptically.

To his left, Blaise Zabini already had the broom in his hands, but his attention was directed elsewhere. Blaise Zabini was looking at Ron Weasley, Potter's sidekick, with a mischievous grin. With an inaudible whisper and a flick of his wand, Blaise Zabini smacked the handle of Weasley's broom onto his nose. The redhead howled in pain and clutched his nose, the broom long forgotten. Blaise laughed loudly, but quickly stashed his wand back into his robes.

Hadrian turned back to Potter and saw that he also had his broom at the ready.

"Now, once you've got hold of your broom, I want you to mount it. 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 up off the ground, hard. Keep your broom steady, hover for a moment, and lean forward slightly, and then touch back down. 3...2..."- Madame Hooch began to say,

She stopped abruptly as she saw a certain blonde haired girl rise off the ground, slowly, then faster and faster. "Miss Lestrange! Get down here this instant!"

Destiny Lestrange whimpered and shut her eyes tightly. She hated heights with a passion. Her hands clenched around her broom as she willed it to stop,, but to no avail. Hadrian had taught her a couple things about riding a broom, but her mind was blank. All she could think about was the amount of space between her and the ground. One small twitch would have her falling to her death.

Meanwhile, while everyone was looking up, Hadrian scanned the crowd for the real culprit. Brooms didn't just jet off like that. His accusing gaze landed on an unknown Gryffindor with brown hair. Hadrian hissed under his breath and shot a silent stinging hex at the boy. He took immense pleasure in seeing the boy drop his wand in a mixture of pain and shock.