The Boy: Brandon Dursely

Chapter 12: Flying

"Oh come on! Just jump, will you, Curly? The ground's here to catch yah, along with a few broken bones, of course!" Ron teased, making Lancel hug the broom tighter and hold on for dear life, and Brandon just felt something burst in his head. He pushed his way through the others and when he found a space, he mounted the broom and kicked himself off the ground. He proceeded to make his way to Lancelot when something from the ground made.a popping sound and Lancelot jerked and lost his balance. The boy was falling, and he was falling fast.

"Dursely! Get back in line!" But it was too late, Dursely was already in pursuit of the falling Brockenhurst who was screaming. He was about to grab him when Lancelot slipped. Cursing, he pointed his broom downward, he dove then pulled up before he hit the ground (with ahhs and ohhs from the spectators) then performing a Wingardium Leviosa overhead to soften his friend's landing and being in standby to catch him if the spell didn't work. He focused entirely on getting Lamcel get down safely.

Luckily, Lancelot did, though he couldn't speak coherently and was beginning to show signs of a panic attack.

"Oh dear, we best get him to Pomfrey. Everyone go now, you are dismissed." Hooch exclaimed, and proceeded with Theodore to the Infirmary. As Brandon got down, he heard a few Griffyndors say nasty things about him being a show off, but Brandon just shook his head and made his way towards his disbelieving Housemates.

"You..." Draco began, "you... pulled a dive."

"What?" He asked, confused.

"You did the charm perfectly!" Hermione exclaimed.

"That was..."

"That was stupid and reckless, Dursely." A voice from behind spoke, and they turned around, surprised to see their Head of House with a sneer on his face, "To my office, now!"

He sighed and followed the professor.

Maybe this is the last straw.

Brandon thought they were going to Snape's or Dumbledore's office, but surprisingly, they proceeded towards the back, to the quidditch pitch. Nearby, there were Upper Years from Slytherin, talking and discussing. The two prefects were also there, listening to a boy with his back turned on them.

"Captain Flint." They all turned and greeted the Professor, while the one who Verona and Wellington was talking to stepped forward.

"Professor, I didn't expext you to be here."

"Dursely, this is Marcus Flint. He is the captain of Slytherin's Quidditch team." Although confused, Bran stepped to shake the older boy's hand. The boy, Marcus Flint, looked like he respected the Professor a lot. He looled warm and friendly, too, with a bit of similarity to...

"So, you are Brandon Dursely? Lancelot's my second cousin. He told me about you." The boy smiled. His hair was the same shade of Lancel's as the eyes, but that was where the similarity ended.

"I hope that they were good things, sir."

Flint flushed, "Oh, you don't need to call me sir. Just Flint or Marcus'll be fine, and Lancel says great things about you."

The Professor cleared his throat, "Enough with that. First things first, I brought Dursely because he will be trying out for your team, Mister Flint."

They looked surprise, "But Professor, he's a first year! They aren't allowed to play yet!" Verona protested.

"Now, now, Mister Verona. Pray tell, what makes Quidditch safer for a twelve year old than an eleven, hmm?"

Verona's eyes widened, clearly getting what the Professor implied, "No-none, sir."