Harry Potter's Coolest Aunt

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The Slytherins were already there, and so were twenty broomsticks lying in neat lines on the ground. Harry had heard Fred and George Weasley complain about the school brooms that percy got them immediately replaced. Their teacher, Madam Hooch, arrived. She had short, grey hair, and yellow eyes like a hawk. "Well, what are you all waiting for?" she barked. "Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up." They all line up next to their brooms

"Stick out your right hand over your broom," called Madam Hooch at the front, "and say 'Up!"' "UP" everyone shouted. Harry's broom jumped into his hand at once, but it was one of the few that did. Hermione Granger's had simply rolled over on the ground, and Neville's hadn't moved at all. Perhaps brooms, like horses, could tell when you were afraid, thought Harry; there was a quaver in Neville's voice that said only too clearly that he wanted to keep his feet on the ground. Madam Hooch then showed them how to mount their brooms without sliding off the end, and walked up and down the rows correcting their grips. Harry, Draco and Ron were delighted when she told Puecy he'd been doing it wrong for years. "Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard," said Madam Hooch.

"Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle -- three-- two --" But Neville, nervous and jumpy and frightened of being left on the ground, pushed off hard before the whistle had touched Madam Hooch's lips. "Come back, boy!" she shouted, but Neville was rising straight up like a cork shot out of a bottle -- twelve feet -- twenty feet. Harry saw his scared white face look down at the ground falling away, saw him gasp, slip sideways off the broom and -WHAM -- a thud and a nasty crack and Neville lay facedown on the grass in a heap. His broomstick was still rising higher and higher and started to drift lazily toward the forbidden forest and out of sight.

Madam Hooch was bending over Neville, her face as white as his. "Broken wrist," Harry heard her mutter. "Come on, boy -- it's all right, up you get."

She turned to the rest of the class. "None of you is to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing! You leave those brooms where they are or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quidditch.' Come on, dear." Neville, his face tear-streaked, clutching his wrist, hobbled off with Madam Hooch, who had her arm around him. No sooner were they out of earshot than Puecy burst into laughter. "Did you see his face, the great lump?" Some of the Slytherins joined in except for Zabini and Nott. "Shut up, Puecy," snapped Parvati Patil. "Ooh, sticking up for Longbottom?" said Pansy Parkinson, a hard-faced Slytherin girl.

"Never thought you'd like fat little crybabies, Parvati." "Look!" said Puecy, darting forward and snatching something out of the grass. "It's that stupid thing Longbottom's gran sent him." The Remembrall glittered in the sun as he held it up. "Give that here, Puecy," said Harry quietly. Everyone stopped talking to watch as Puecy smiled nastily. "I think I'll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find -- how about -up a tree?" "Give it here!" Harry yelled, but Puecy leapt onto his broomstick and took off. Hovering level with the topmost branches of an oak he called, "Come and get it, Potter!" Harry pouts and grabs his broom.

"No!" shouted Hermione Granger. "Madam Hooch told us not to move -you'll get us all into trouble." Harry ignored her. Blood was pounding in his ears.

He mounted the broom and kicked hard against the ground and up, up he soared; air rushed through his hair, and his robes whipped out behind him - only once he has done this before -- this was easy, this was wonderful. He pulled his broomstick up a little to take it even higher and heard screams and gasps of girls back on the ground and an admiring whoop from Ron and Draco. He turned his broomstick sharply to face Puecy in midair who looked stunned.