"UP!" Everyone shouted simultaneously. As her broom collided with the bare palm of her hand, Copeland felt a rush of adrenaline coursing through her veins. If only her parents could see her now.
Copeland glanced at Harry with a grin, who looked both flustered and excited at his broom listening to his command. Hermione's merely rolled over in the grass, much to her surprise. Neville's didn't budge. Harry leaned in to whisper to her.
"The broomsticks can smell fear," He muttered, teasingly. Copeland couldn't help but let out an obnoxious bark of a laugh, causing hawk-eyed Madam Hooch to stare at her with beady, narrow eyes.
"Something funny, Miss Lancaster? Anything worth sharing with the class?"
Copeland felt everyone's eyes on her.
"Nothing at all, Madam Hooch," She replied coolly, no change in her calm exterior. Madam Hooch gave an unsatisfied "humph" before turning her back on Copeland, and giving the next instructions:
"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard," ordered Madam Hooch. "Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. "
Neville, being the blithering klutz he was, was unable to control his broom, causing him to fall from the sky, snapping his wrist with a sickening CRACK!
Madam Hooch turned to the rest of the class, seeming on edge.
"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. Copeland managed to shoot him an apologetic smile before he was escorted away.
No sooner were they out of earshot than Malfoy burst into laughter. "Did you see his face, the great lump?"
The other Slytherins joined in, and Copeland felt herself get warm with anger.
"Shut up, Malfoy," snapped Parvati Patil, and pride swelled in Copeland's chest at her comment.
She remembered how quiet and shy Pavarti used to be only a week ago, it was hardly believable she made her way into Gryffindor - the hat must have made a mistake - but here she was, loud and proud. They grew up so fast!
"Ooh, sticking up for Longbottom?" Pansy sneered, and Copeland felt the urge to cram a broom down her throat. (Somehow, even then, she'd still find a way to talk with her big mouth.) "Never thought you'd like fat little crybabies, Parvati."
"Sticking up for Malfoy, are we Parkinson? Never thought you'd like spoiled little boys terribly far out of your league," Copeland snapped back, feeling defensive for her friends. Pansy's pale cheeks bloomed a deep crimson.
The Gryffindor side of the field burst into spontaneous laughter, and Copeland could feel the glares of all the Slytherin's on her. Ron clapped her on the back, shooting her a proud look. The laughter was interrupted by none other than Malfoy, who's shrill prepubescent voice made Copeland's ears hurt.
"Look!" He said, darting forward to snatch something out of the grass. "It's that stupid thing Longbottom's gran sent him."
Copeland was closer, and quicker, than Malfoy was - luckily for Neville - and she grabbed the Remembrall first, a triumphant look painted on her face. The rest of the students watched with bated breath as Crabbe and Goyle fell in line behind Malfoy, menacing looks on their faces.
"Give that back, Lancaster, if you know what's good for you," He demanded, pale gray eyes glaring in her direction. Copeland let out an involuntary laugh.
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LANCASTER | H. POTTERFanfiction
fu·ture /ˈfyo͞oCHər/ noun the time or a period of time following the moment of speaking or writing; time regarded as still to come. "we plan on getting married in the near future" synonyms: time to come, time ahead; what lay/lies ahead, coming times...