John cupped his hands around the mug of coffee.
A month ago, the classes of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry began.
So here's a recap:
-McGonagall was strict but badass.
-Mr. Filtwick was a short, encouraging half goblin(John was confused how that worked out) that apparently helped the choir Hogwart's apparently had.
-Snape was his usual hardass self, especially to that Potter kid(mate could walk a step off and get scolded).
-Ms. Sinistra was an astronaut wanna-be.
-Ms. Sprout was probably more plant than human.
-Quirrell still gave John an off feeling.
And
-Mr. Binns was a literal fucking ghost.
Anyone that can't pay attention in that class obviously doesn't understand the significance of this.
John gripped the mug closer as it lost more warmth.
Oh-that was another thing!
A few lessons in, John grew impatient of Transfigurations and looked into it.
Now he solved some of his problems after only a few attempts.
It was a tad bit unfair though.....not the reading ahead bit, that was Granger's whole routine, but him already having as much experience as the teachers showing them, was a bit shit for them.
The only reason why he was able to make this much progress, this fast, was because he already contains the mindset required for casting any kind of spell!
Not a lot of practice needed.
"Malfoy! Check it out-Madame Houche's class is starting up this week! Flyings gonna be wicked!"
Blaise passed out a handful of forms he held, then sat down on John's side.
That, was a something else going on.
Apparently, John had been deemed fit enough to be integrated within Malfoy's squad of sorts.
The number itself has more than likely tripled within the month, majority being of their own house of course.
So that brought John here, squished between Blaise Zabini and one of the Slytherin girls Tracey Davis.
Going around the closer circle here, Vincent Crabbe was on Blaise's left while across the table Theodore Nott sat beside the pug-faced girl, Pansy Parkinson, who was fawning over the distressed Draco Malfoy, who in turn, was distressed because Parkinson, was fawning over him.
To his right hung around Gregory Goyle, then Daphne Greengrass; across was Millicent Bulstrode, Tracey and then square one.
He says that he's in the group very lightly-John knew to keep his distance from everyone.
Slytherin or not.
John wasn't a high member-known to act like Draco or Pansy;
He wasn't a follower either, Crabbe and Goyle fit the role of their lackeys just fine.
He wasn't expected to do much.
And that was fine with him.
"Hmph. It took her long enough! I trust everyone here will be signing up?"
Thanks to the rise in numbers, Malfoy's ego grew right along with it. They aren't wrong when they say strength is in numbers-so Malfoy takes the motto to a T, dragging as many members along with him wherever he goes.
While the group nodded, John did plan on signing up, just not because of the kid's 'wishes'-but because they would fly on fucking brooms.
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Flying class had be scheduled during the breaks, while the class was in the recommended, it wasn't an actual class; a student only sits through a few months of actual practice.
So here they were, in one of the yards.
The class was mixed, while majority were either Gryffindor or Slytherin, John did see Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs.
The students had been put in two lines, a broom laying below their dominant hands.
"Good afternoon class."
"Good afternoon Madam Hooch."
The silver haired witch greeted a few individual students before starting.
"Welcome, to your first flying class! Well now what are you waiting for! Step up to your broomstick, raise your dominant hand above it and say UP!"
Kids began trying, some getting it off the bat while others were forced to try different yelling tactics to coax the broom into flying into their grasp.
Draco quite proudly caught it after only a couple calls, so John decided to give it a try as well.
Looking sternly at the broom, John commanded up firmly.
He almost flinched as it shot up, taking a minute to breath.
"Ow!"
John looked to his right, a Gryffindor kid hit himself in the face.
"Alright then. Now, pulled up your brooms, I want you to mount them. Grip them tightly now, up don't want to be falling off the edge."
Hooch walked back and forth between the lines, "When I say go, kick off lightly from the ground. Keep your broom steady while it hovers. Stay there for a moment, before leaning forward slightly to touch back down!"
"Ready? And-"
"-whoaah!"
Another red tie was starting to float, he didn't seem to do it on purpose if they look on his face had anything to say about it.
As he panicked, he heard someone from his line mutter something, erupting laughter.
Suddenly the Gryffindor shot forward, making a few below him have to duck.
The lines were forgotten as the group semi-tried to follow the kid's erratic path, now all bunched up as Hooch kept yelling for him.
This kid was gonna get hurt!
There were groans and gasps at the painful looking slaps with the wall.
It wasn't long till he fell off the now impaired broom and had his robe caught by a torch handle high up.
It wouldn't be for long though, everyone listening hard enough could hear the tearing of the fabric.
Thanks to the Gryffindor's body weight and his struggling, the robe didn't last long and he began to drop.
A drop that high could kill him he landed wrong!
"Shit-"
He quietly reached out a hand.
Harry heard someone swear.
He saw a blonde boy next to him.
A Slytherin boy.
What threw Harry off was that he wasn't laughing like his house members-in fact he looked concerned.
Harry watched closely as the boy rose his hand a bit; not any higher than waist level.
He followed the hands direction to Neville.
Oh no! He was falling!-
Madam Hooch had to do something before he hit the floor-
Harry was bemused as his housemate stopped moments from kissing the ground.
He looked back to the blonde, his hand strained and his face in concentration.
Did he.......save him?
Did a Slytherin help a Gryffindor?
He floated for a minute, frozen in time, then grunted as he was let go.
Madam Hooch ran to him, but Harry kept staring at the boy with a green tie.
The blonde was breathing deeply, attempting to hide his panting.
As if he could feel Harry's eyes on him, he turned his way, pausing as green met brown.
With them in the crowd's end, no one noticed the slight staring contest unfolding.
Why would a snake help Neville? Weren't they supposed to be bad?
It couldn't be for show because he tried to hide helping the Gryffindor boy and no one would've believed him if he said he did later.
He could've sworn he's seen him in Malfoy's gang too....so why?
After Madam Hooch left with Neville,
Malfoy found a glass ball.
—————————————————
John decided that the flying class turned out to be a shit show.
On top of the Neville kid breaking something, despite both their efforts, and the Potter kid getting picked up by McGonagall even after getting back whatever Malfoy took.
But he supposed it didn't go so badly for the kid, he was picked to play the Quidditch thing that was starting soon.
Apparently Quidditch was a sport.
Yup.
Nothing sounded safer than racing hundreds of feet in the air just to play some sort of flying football.
John shook his head,
Wizards
Flying was different....while it was mad and all-John didn't think it was for him.
He'll just stick with rides from Manny or the metropolis Boy Scout when it came to flight transportation.
Fuck even a legit plane would be safer.
John laid on his bed, ending the day on a solid note.