Lost Memories

xlvii. new chaser

"I'm going to die," I gasped.

"You're not going to die."

"I'm going to fall off the broom and plummet to my death— you want to see me dead," I accused of Harry. He thought it would be nice to teach me how to fly.

"Lottie," Harry laughed, "we're barely hovering the ground."

The ground below us was about three feet away. I was completely terrified; no seats, no straps, nothing, just me and the broom and open space. I had threatened Harry multiple times from the time he dragged me to the training grounds to when he told me to stomp the ground without telling me what it'd do. I had managed to kick off too hard, since I didn't know why I had to stomp, and flew up faster than intended.

"All you have to do is pull up a bit, then forward, and tilt your body," Harry instructed.

"What will it do this time?" I narrowed my eyes at him.

"You'll get to fly higher– a bit–, then forward and turn," he explained. "Do it slowly this time!"

Mumbling a few choice words under my breath, I brought up the tip of the broomstick and flew higher off the ground, keeping my eyes trained on Harry so I wouldn't look down. Taking a deep breath, I leaned forward and flew towards Harry; quickly leaning, I made a sharp turn as I tried to avoid Harry.

"Sit up and you'll stop flying forward," Ron called from the ground.

Taking his advice, I did so and stopped loving. My knuckles were white at how hard I was holding onto the broomstick.

"That wasn't the worst, better than most first years," Harry teased.

"Come off it, will you," I glared at Harry.

Harry continued to teach me how to fly and, eventually, it wasn't as bad as I thought. As long as I kept my eyes off the ground below me, I was alright.

"Now," Harry smiled, "I want to teach you how to be a Chaser, or a beater if you like."

"Neither, please and thank you," I scoffed, trying to return to the ground.

"C'mon, you have aim and I need a new Chaser," Harry whined.

"Harry, I can barely fly! How am I going to throw Quaffles at the hoops while Beaters are going to try to kill me?"

"Just try to do it now and if I think you're alright enough, then I'll let you try out," Harry suggested.

"Fine, but if I fall and die, I'm going to haunt you," I threatened.

Harry flew down and pulled out a Quaffle from the Quidditch Box. He tried to instruct me on how to throw while flying but flying without my hands was an idea that truly scared me. After catching the Quaffle, from all the times Harry had passed it to me, he told me to throw it into the hoop. With great force, I chucked the ball into the hoop, managing to drop down in height from my downward movement.

"Lottie, that was perfect! But next time try not to drop," Harry approved as the Quaffle hit the hoop dead centre.

Harry and I practised having me throw and catch Quaffles over the next week during our free periods. For the last two days, Harry employed Ron to take his position, as a Keeper, and try to guard the hoops against my throws. A lot of good that did, I managed to trick him multiple times, by faking my throws, and made in a good amount of goals.

"How is it that you've never played Quidditch yet good at it?" Ron huffed after failing to save another goal.

"I played Softball back at my old school in America," I shrugged. "It's a muggle sport with a bat and ball, but instead of throwing towards a goal, someone throws a ball at the person with a bat and the person with the bat has to hit the ball as hard as they can so they can run to each checkpoint and win."