Welcome to the Rest of your Life

Flying Lessons {year 1}

The first week passed by quickly for me. Not including getting lost in the gigantic castle on my way to class, each day went by well. In Potions, I only got told off by Professor Snape once, and that was for dripping a small dollop of Cure of Boils on the table.

"Clean up this mess!" Snape had yelled.

Not wanting to get him even angrier – and myself as well in that case; if Malfoy had done anything, Snape would have pretended not to notice! – I quietly replied. "Yes, sir." And proceeded to grab a nearby handkerchief to wipe it away.

"Five points from Gryffindor; though I should take more for your cheek." He said before walking away. Many profanities ran through my mind, but I kept my mouth shut.

Defense Against the Dark Arts was much less exciting than I had expected it to be, what with the twitchy Professor Quirrell being a bit of a joke. His classroom and his turban smelled much like garlic, which, according to some people, was to ward off a Romanian vampire that Quirrell thinks will try to come back to get him.

Easily, History of Magic was the most boring subject. The ghostly Professor Binns continuously droned on during class, making me mix up each term I tried to put down in my notes.

Like everyone else, with the exception of Hermione, Transfiguration wasn't very easy for me, at least not at first. The most I did with my match was to make the match head sharper. It didn't get very close to becoming a needle other than that.

Charms was quite good, though. Not only was Professor Flitwick great, but the class was interesting as well. I had a good feeling that it'd be one of my best subjects.

Then, Thursday came. I had been waiting for this day to come – we were getting our first flying lessons!

That morning, I ate breakfast with Harry, Ron, Neville, Seamus, Dean and Hermione. Hermione had been going on and on about some flying tips she's read about – Neville was hanging onto every word; he's never gone flying alone, since Gran would never allow it – but got interrupted by the arrival of the mail. My grandmother's owl, Sebastian, swooped in and landed beside my bowl of oatmeal, a small package tied around both of his legs. He held out one leg to me, showing me which was mine. After giving him a thankful pat on the head, I untied it and started unwrapping it as he hopped over to my right to give Neville his package. Inside was an enormous bag of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans.

"Gran always knows what to get me." I giggled.

"It's a Remembrall!" Neville suddenly announced. "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 turns red – oh..." in his hands, the Remembrall glowed scarlet. "You've forgotten something..."

Then, as Neville tried to remember what he'd forgotten, Malfoy came and snatched it from his hands. Ron, Harry, and, instinctively, I stood, but Professor McGonagall beat us to it and appeared in a flash.

"What's going on?" she questioned.

"Malfoy's got my Remembrall, Professor." Neville told her, passively pulling me back down into my seat. I was impressed by his calmness, though that put yet another damning difference between the two of us; while he was the one to wait for results, I usually like to rough myself up on the way.

Malfoy scowled and placed the ball on the table. "Just looking." Defeated, he walked back to the Slytherin table with his two goons, Gregory Goyle and Vincent Crabbe.

"Just looking my arse." I whispered under my breath before plopping an Every Flavor Bean into my mouth. Quickly, I spit it out. "Bleh. Liver."