The Tenth Weasley

Chapter 9

*Chapter 9*

I never thought it was possible to hate anyone as much as I hated the Slytherins, Draco Malfoy in particular.  Still, at least we only had potions which we only had once a week with them so we didn't see Draco often. At least until the flying lessons started and the notice was posted in the Gryffindor common room. The lessons were starting on Thursday - and Gryffindor and Slytherin  would be learning together. Draco Malfoy seemed to have a skill for ruining everything.

"Typical" said Harry darkly, obviously greatly disappointed, "Just what I always wanted. To make a fool of myself on a broomstick in front of Malfoy." He had been looking forward to learning to fly ever since Ron had explained Quidditch to him on the train to Hogwarts

"You don't know you'll make a fool of yourself." reasoned Ron.

"Anyway," I continued, "I know Malfoys always going on about Quidditch and how amazing he is on a broom but I bet that's all talk."

All Malfoy seemed to be able to talk about was Quidditch.  He always seemed to be complaining about how first years never got on the house Quidditch teams and told long, boastful stories which always seemed to end in him narrowly escaping muggles in helicopters. He wasn't the only one though, the way Seamus Finnegan told it, he spent the majority of his childhood flying around the country on his broomstick. Ron told anyone who'd listened about the time that he almost hit a hand glider when flying on Charlie's broomstick. Even I was guilty of boasting about the time that I had spent on a broomstick as a child and about all of the games me and my siblings had spent hours playing. Everyone from wizard family's seemed to constantly talk about Quidditch and nothing else. Ron had already had a big argument with Dean Thomas, one of his and Harry's dorm-mates, about football. Ron couldn't see the appeal in a game that only had one ball and nobody was allowed to fly. Harry even told me that he had caught Ron prodding Deans poster of West Ham football team, trying to make the players move.

Neville had never been on a broomstick in his life, because his grandmother had never let him near one. Privately I felt that she'd had good reason, because Neville managed to have an extraordinary number of accidents even with both feet on the ground, often taking those around him down in the process.

Hermione was almost as nervous as Neville was. Unfortunately for her flying was not something that you could learn from a book - not that she hadn't tried. At breakfast on Thursday she bored is all with stupid flying tips she'd gotten from a library book called 'Quidditch through the Ages'. Neville was desperate for all the help he could get and was listening intensively to every word, although the rest of us were extremely pleased when the arrival of the Mail put a stop to her lecture. Although the Mail didn't ever interrupt her when she was babbling on about it every morning at night in our dorm, I'd gone as far as pretending to fall asleep to put a stop to her ramblings. 

In the mail Ron and I recieved letters from our Mum saying the usual stuff about how she loves and misses us and how she hopes we're enjoying our time at Hogwarts. With it was a letter from Ginny, it was the first year that she had been alone and it was obviously driving her crazy, just having Mum for company during the day and Dad whenever he was home from work. Luckily she would be coming to hogwarts next year and she would no longer be away from us. 

Harry hadn't had a single letter since Hagrid's note, something that Malfoy had been quick to notice, of course. Malfoys eagle owl was a,ways bringing him packages of sweets from home, which he opened gloatingly at the Slytherin table.

A barn owl brought Neville a small package from his grandmother. He opened it excitedly and showed us a glass ball the size of a large marble, which seemed to be full of whit smoke.

"It's a Rememberball!" he explained. "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..." His face fell dramatically, because the Rememberball had suddenly glowed scarlet, "... you've forgotten something ..."

Neville was trying to remember what he'd forgotten when Draco Malfoy, who was passing the Gryffindor table, snatched the Rememberball out of his hand. 

Harry and Ron jumped to their feet as I watched in anticipation from my seat, ready to intervene if needed , besides Harry and Ron seemed to have it handled. They were obviously half hoping for a reason to fight Malfoy, but Professor McGonagall, who could spot trouble quicker than any teacher in the school, was there in a flash.

"What's going on?"

"Malfoys got my Rememberball, Proffesor."

Scowling, Malfoy quickly dropped the Rememberball back on the table grudgingly.

"Just looking," he said, and he sloped away with Crabbe and Goyle behind him.

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At three-thirty that afternoon, Harry, Ron and I along with the rest of the Gryffindor first years hurried down the front steps into the grounds for our first flying lesson. It was a clear, breezy day and the grass rippled under our feet as we marched down the sloping lawns towards a smooth a smooth lawn on the opposite side of the grounds to the Forbidden Forest, who's trees were swaying darkly in the distance.

The Slytherins were already there, and so were twenty broomsticks lying in nestlings on the ground. I had heard Fred and George complain on numerous occasions about the lack of quality in the school brooms, saying that some of them started to vibrate if you flew too high, or always flew slightly to the left.

Our teacher, Madam Hooch, arrived. She had short, grey hair and yellow eyes like a hawk. 

"Well, what are you waiting for?" she barked. "Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on hurry up." 

Everyone who wasn't already stood by a broom immediately rushed towards one, not wanting to get on the wrong side of the intimidating teacher.  The broom that I was stood by was old and ragged, it definitely didn't look very promising.