2 Kids Who Are Not Harry Potter And The Sorcerer's Stone

Only A Children's Book

They'd been at Hogwarts around two weeks when a notice appeared in the common rooms which set the first years on fire with anticipation. At the end of the week, they would be learning to fly. This was the first lesson Hermione found herself not looking forward to in the slightest. She was well accustomed to keeping both of her feet on the ground, thank you very much, and had very little confidence that a thin stick of wood would do much good at all to keep her from falling out of the sky. However, this sentiment seemed to be an unpopular one. Ron Weasley and Seamus Finnegan filled the common room with long, rather boastful stories about spending their childhoods zooming around the countryside on their brooms, narrowly and heroically evading capture by Muggles. Hermione strongly suspected many of these details were exaggerated; for example, Ron would tell anyone who would listen about the time he'd nearly hit a hang glider and managed his narrow escape, only to find himself contending with Muggles in helicopters because he'd flown so high. Seamus, meanwhile, told an obviously rehearsed and absolutely unbelievable story involving the Muggle police that Hermione found herself subjected to on three separate occasions before the end of the week. Somehow, she found neither of these anecdotes particularly reassuring.

More ominously, Gryffindor would be having this flying lesson with Slytherin, which meant their rivalry would lead to more obnoxious behavior from all sides. It was therefore with a feeling of intense dread that Hermione went down to breakfast on Friday morning. Predictably, the Great Hall was abuzz with incessant talk of the impending lesson. However, as she passed the Slytherin table, something made her pause.

"I know everyone's making a big deal about it," Draco Malfoy was saying, "but it's honestly very easy. You'll be fine."

"I'll make a fool of myself," said Pansy Parkinson sullenly, staring down at the table.

"I doubt it. We probably won't even do much actual flying today, I bet we hardly even leave the ground." A pause.

"Tell me again what it's like," she said, in a slightly different tone.

"It's brilliant. D'you ever feel like you spend all your time being pushed around and told what to do, and imagine what freedom would feel like?"

"Yes," she said cautiously. She was hanging onto Draco's every word; so was Hermione. His eyes were alight, not with sarcasm or malice, but with genuine, fierce joy.

"That's what it feels like. Complete freedom. Like you can go wherever you like and do whatever you like, and no one can ever touch you again." His words sent a shiver down Hermione's spine. Suddenly, intense fascination and curiosity lessened her dread of flying. She'd lost track of how long she'd been listening when Pansy's head snapped up.

"What do you want, Granger?"

"Nothing," she said shortly, and continued on to the Gryffindor table, where Neville hurried up to her at once, proudly showing her a glass ball the size of a large marble, which seemed to be filled with white smoke.

"What is it?" she asked, taking the ball from his hand and holding it up to the light to examine it.

"It's a Remembrall," said Neville excitedly. "Gran sent it. She knows I forget things, see--" he took the ball from her hand to demonstrate. "So, when you squeeze it like this, and the smoke turns red..." he trailed off and his face fell, for the ball suddenly glowed scarlet.

"It means you've forgotten something?" Hermione finished for him. She fought to keep the amusement out of her voice, but was unable to entirely suppress her smile. Neville didn't notice, for at that moment, Draco Malfoy passed by the Gryffindor table and smoothly snatched the Remembrall out of Neville's hand.

"Hey!" cried Neville. A few seats down, Harry and Ron stood, obviously preparing to fight, but to Hermione's (and, judging by his expression, Neville's) immense relief, Professor McGonagall swooped down upon them at once.