The Weasley Twin (Harry Potter Love Story)

[7] Flying Lessons

I had never believed I would meet a boy I hated more than anyone else in the world, but that was before I met Draco Malfoy. Still, first-year Gryffindors only had Potions with the Slytherins, so Harry, Ron, and I didn't have to put up with Malfoy much. Or at least, we didn't until we spotted a notice pinned up in the Gryffindor common room that made us all groan.

Flying lessons would be starting on Thursday -- and Gryffindor and Slytherin would be learning together.

"Typical," Harry said darkly. "Just what I always wanted. To make a fool of myself on a broomstick in front of Malfoy." I knew he had been looking forward to learning to fly more than anything else. So was I to be honest. My brothers would play at home on their brooms but never let me use one. They said it would be too dangerous until I learned at Hogwarts.

"You don't know that you'll make a fool of yourself," I told Harry reasonably.

"Anyway," Ron added, "I know Malfoy's always going on about how good he is at Quidditch, but I bet that's all talk."

Malfay certainly did talk about flying a lot. He complained loudly about first years never getting on the house Quidditch teams and told long, boastful stories that always seemed to end with him narrowly escaping Muggles in helicopters. Whatever those are.

He wasn't the only one, though: the way Seamus Finnigan told it, he'd spent most of his childhood zooming around the countryside on his broomstick. Even Ron would tell anyone who'd listen about the time he'd almost hit a hang glider on Charlie's old broom. Of course, that's not true. But I kept my mouth shut, not bothering to join in the conversation. Harry and I just sat by and listened.

Everyone from wizarding families talked about Quidditch constantly. Ron had already had a big argument with Dean Thomas, who shared the dormitory with him and Harry, about soccer. Ron couldn't see what was exciting about a game with only one ball where no one was allowed to fly. Honestly, neither could I. Harry said he'd caught Ron prodding Dean's poster of West Ham soccer 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, Harry and I felt she'd had good reason, because Neville managed to have an extraordinary number of accidents even with both feet on the ground.

Hermione was almost as nervous about flying as Neville was. This was something you couldn't learn by heart out of a book -- not that she hadn't tried. At breakfast on Thursday she bored us all stupid with flying tips she'd gotten out of a library book called Quidditch Through the Ages. I knew she meant well, but I wished she'd shut up sometimes. Neville was hanging on to her every word, desperate for anything that might help him hang on to his broomstick later, but everybody else was very pleased when Hermione's lecture was interrupted by the arrival of the mail.

Harry hadn't had a single letter since Hagrid's note, something that Malfoy had been quick to notice, of course. Malfoy's eagle owl was always bringing him packages of sweets from home, which he opened gloatingly at the Slytherin table. Harry laughed when I told him I really wanted to walk over there and shove those candies down Malfoy's throat.

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 white smoke. "It's a Remembrall!" 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, because the Remembrall had suddenly glowed scarlet, "... you've forgotten something..."