Chapter 20: Flying
Lunch.
I should say it was quite a peaceful affair. I spent it in quiet conversation with a group of fourth-years who had settled near us and launched into a theoretical discussion about the possibility of circumventing one of the established principles of magic, or rather, one of the limitations that wizards have not yet found a way past. I offered a few ideas, and the whole thing developed into a rather spirited exchange.
All good things must end, however, and in due course the conversation wound down. We assembled into a column and set off for the first Flying lesson.
"A word for the Muggle-born students..."
I decided to say a few things before the lesson began. I spoke quietly, but most of the students present had already started to listen, and every House was represented on the pitch.
"So you're here to humiliate them for not being pure-bloods, are you?!"
Weasley had chosen this moment to emerge from whatever corner he had been skulking in.
I flicked my fingers in a dismissive gesture, which appeared to send his blood pressure considerably higher.
"Right then, those of you who are Muggle-born will remember going to Ollivander's. Each of you went through a number of wands the master offered before he found the one that was right for you."
A general murmur of agreement came from several directions.
"A broomstick is not a wand. It has no temperament of its own, so to speak. A broom is simply a piece of wood with bristles, and how well it responds to you will depend entirely on you. It is..."
I snapped my fingers a couple of times, searching for the right comparison.
"...in some ways it resembles training an animal, except that an animal has a mind and senses confidence in the one giving commands, whereas a broom has no mind at all. What it does have are runes, and the runes on every broom and flying implement are bound to the will of its rider. If you are confident that the broom will obey, it will. If you are uncertain, it will respond to your commands only very reluctantly."
"Oh, ignore him! He's just showing off, thinks he's terribly important!"
I ignored Weasley.
"Before you give your broom its first command, it is well worth closing your eyes and forming a clear mental image of the broom lifting off the ground and flying into your hand."
"Right, everyone come to me!"
Professor Hooch had appeared on the pitch, and with a gesture she indicated the large equipment shed.
"You have five minutes: go and take a broom."
I held my House back with a look, and the Hufflepuffs stopped behind us as well. Only when the pushing and shoving between Gryffindors and Slytherins had settled did I go over and begin handing out brooms. Our two Houses proved considerably more organized and faster with the whole business. Only Longbottom gave a slight wince as he took his broom from me.
"Good... now place your brooms on the grass to your right!"
We followed the professor's instructions and stood still.
"Extend your right hand so that your palm is directly over the handle, and say: Up."
"Up!"
The collective shout from all the students was slightly uneven, but that was not important.
"Ha! Look at this! All that talk going on about himself, and he can't even call a broom to his hand!"
Weasley was pointing directly at me. My broom was hovering about ten centimeters below my palm. I took a slow look around and could see that roughly ninety percent of the pure-blood students had successfully called their brooms from the ground. Approximately half the Muggle-born students had managed it as well.
"Mr. Weasley, I would not be so quick to celebrate. The technique Mr. Black has just demonstrated is considerably more difficult than a standard broom summons, and you yourself have not managed even that much. However, if you are so eager to make a point..."
The professor nodded toward his broom.
"Up!"
Weasley's broom did not move.
"Up!"
It continued to lie exactly where it was.
"Up!"
The voice of the Weasley family's sixth child rang with panic and barely contained dread, and at that moment the broom lurched upward, but only partially. The handle shot up while the bristles remained stuck fast to the ground as though glued there. The broom reared up and struck him squarely in the forehead with the handle before dropping back onto the grass.
"Up."
Hermione, who had been standing quietly beside her broom with her eyes tightly shut, spoke the word, and the broom flew into her palm.
"It worked! It actually worked!"
That was genuinely lovely to see. Pure, uncomplicated happiness. That kind of thing is always pleasant to witness, and it was especially so knowing she had taken my advice.
"Draco! Thank you!"
She looked at me with shining eyes. Then everyone else who'd been following my suggestion closed their eyes as well, and within a minute roughly half of those who hadn't managed it on the first attempt now held their brooms. Weasley managed it too.
Ten minutes later, everyone had their brooms.
"Good. Now swing your leg over and mount. Watch carefully."
I watched the professor demonstrate, then mounted my own way. I had been taught this as well, even if flying itself held no real interest for me.
"Keep both feet firmly on the ground, and when I blow my whistle, bend your knees gently."
"Oh."
I glanced toward the sound and saw Longbottom beginning to rise slowly from the ground.
"I haven't given the command yet!"
But I could see Neville was in a panic, so I whipped out my wand and cast a light Relaxing Charm at him, causing him to release the handle. He began to fall, and Hooch, having caught my movement from the corner of her eye, immediately cast a Cushioning Charm beneath him.
His broom, left without a rider, dropped to the grass.
"Thank you, Mr. Black. I may have grown too accustomed to nothing going wrong in my lessons. I might not have reached Mr. Longbottom in time."
A Counter-Jinx was cast on Neville, and he got to his feet.
"Th-thank you."
He gave a nod to Hooch and, after a moment's hesitation, to me as well, then turned to look at his broom with considerable wariness. Hooch sighed, bent her knees, and glided smoothly over to him.
"Hand out."
Neville did as he was told, and at her instruction he raised his broom off the ground, though not without several attempts. Hooch steadied Neville's broom with her hand, and once he had climbed on, he went nowhere.
"Good. On my command, everyone bend their knees."
The whistle blew, and we all followed the instruction.
Excellent. Now, two circuits of the pitch. Off you go!
She moved forward alongside Neville.
The lesson as a whole went smoothly. No injuries, and at the end we returned our brooms without incident.
"Mr. Black, a moment, please..."
I stopped and waited while everyone else moved far enough away.
"Mr. Black, it is clear you are very comfortable on a broom..."
I nodded but said nothing.
"...would you consider trying out for the House team?"
"No."
"Are you certain?"
I could see my refusal had disappointed her. She was a genuine devotee of this absurd game, which wasn't surprising for a former professional player.
"You're well-built and in excellent physical condition. You'd make a very capable Seeker, and there's every chance you could go professional after Hogwarts."
"Professor, I'll be frank with you. I don't see my future in sports. I want to develop my Gift, not become an athlete."
"I understand that, but while you're at school, your House would benefit if you became the Seeker."
"Perhaps. But it would bring no benefit to me."
The professor closed her eyes briefly.
"As I understand it, you're freeing up a great deal of your time..."
"Yes, but that time will go toward covering material from future years and studying specialist literature in my field."
"Mr. Black, you are still a child..."
"Professor, I am, first and foremost, a future Head of House. As the head of a House with considerable influence, I must know and be capable of far more than most people. I must be someone worth looking up to, someone others turn to when they're in difficulty. And that kind of reputation isn't built by playing games, whether that game is Quidditch or anything else."
"I... understand..."
Hooch nodded. It was plain she was sorry to hear it, but she wasn't going to press further.
"...you needn't come to my lessons anymore. I'll give you an Acceptable Plus for Flying. Though I'm still sorry you don't see yourself in sports, even school sports."
"You know..."
I looked at her.
"...if you're so keen to find talent, take a closer look at Mr. Potter."
"You think his father's gift for flying passed to him?"
"I cannot speak to his father's talent, but something tells me that after the treatment Madam Pomfrey has prescribed, he will be in sufficient condition to at least try out for the team. He ought to be told about the different positions first, though, so he can decide which might suit him."
"Well..."
There was a note of doubt in Hooch's voice.
"...I did not notice anything particularly remarkable about Mr. Potter."
"He was handling a broom for the first time. Give him a chance. He may not become a world-class star, but I think he could make it to the national level."
"Very well. I will keep an eye on the boy..."
Hooch gave a nod and let me go. I hurried to catch up with the Ravenclaw first-years. Penny Clearwater had not taken them anywhere; she was simply waiting there.
"Well?"
"Passed."
"Excellent. The Head of House asked me to send you to him. He has a window to run your History of Magic examination. But we take the first-years to the common room first."
"Actually, I can find my own way there. I have been getting to know the castle a bit."
Penny Clearwater gave me a measured look.
"...all right. But if you get lost, I will hold your hand every time you go anywhere for the rest of your time at school."
"Really?"
I studied her carefully.
"Er... I don't like the look on your face."
"Penny Clearwater, if I may..."
Daphne decided to join the conversation.
"Go on."
"I know my lord well enough to say with complete confidence that after a threat like that, he will get lost on purpose. Simply so he can spend the rest of his second year walking through the castle with a pretty girl."
"Er... but what about you? You're his attendant, aren't you?"
"Ahem..."
Daphne glanced at me questioningly, and I offered my permission with a shrug.
"...the thing is, my lord prefers slightly older girls. Even you fall a little short of his ideal, truth be told, though that won't stop him from imagining how you'll look in a couple of years."
"Ahem..."
Penny looked at me with a mixture of suspicion and alarm.
"...older girls, you say?"
"Yes. I develop psychologically at a considerably faster rate than my peers, indeed faster than many who are older than me, so everyone around me tends to feel rather young to me."
I shrugged, quite unapologetically.
"And I feel young to you?"
"Less so than Daphne, but broadly speaking..."
Another shrug. Not a trace of remorse.
"I see. Fine, forget what I said. If you get lost, I won't speak a single word to you for the rest of your time at this school."
I sighed mournfully and nodded my acceptance. Together we walked to the moving staircases, where we parted ways. Penny led the younger students toward the common room, and I set off toward Flitwick, who was to examine me on History of Magic.
"Mr. Black?"
Flitwick greeted me with a warm smile.
"Professor, Penny said you wanted to see me."
"Yes, are you ready for the History examination?"
"Yes, Professor."
I nodded. Flitwick invited me to the front desk and set a sheet of questions before me.
"Begin."
"Right..."
I quickly scanned the questions and, satisfied that none of them presented any difficulty, set to work answering them.
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