8 The Duel (1/2)
Arth had always wanted to fly a broom once in his life. Ever since he was told about quidditch by his dad, he had been hooked onto the game. In fact, he had even bought a book called Quidditch through the Ages. His dream was made reality when he woke up and saw the notice in the Gryffindor common room
Flying lessons would be starting on Thursday.
Harry and Ron didn't like it as much when they realized they were sharing classes with the Slytherins.
”Typical,” said Harry darkly. ”Just what I always wanted. To make a fool of myself on a broomstick in front of Malfoy.”
”You don't know that you'll make a fool of yourself,” said Ron reasonably. ”Anyway, I know Malfoy's always going on about how good he is at Quidditch, but I bet that's all talk.”
”In fact, he might even mess up,” Arthur said without looking up from his book.
Ron sighed in exasperation, ”Can you drop that book for once? What are you even reading?”
Arth closed his book.
”It's Hogwarts: a history, you should read it. It's pretty good.”
Arth heard someone drop something from behind his back.
”You read that old book? I don't know how can stand it, It's so boring and useless,” said Ron with a disgusted face.
”Really? I find it quite interesting.”
”Is it really, should I give it a try?”
”Stop Harry, If you take that one step, you'll become a book nerd who is as inconspicuous as Arth.”
”Shut it Ron. Nerds aren't inconspicuous.”
”But you are.”
Arth whipped out his wand and pointed it at Ron.
”I'm not doing your homework for you anymore.”
Arth smirked and Harry laughed as Ron's face got gradually paler. Arth took this time to look around and saw Hermione picking up some books that had fallen to the floor.
She was unlike herself as she was pacing around reading as many books about flying while she still had the time. However, Arth saw this as fruitless, this was something you couldn't learn by heart out of a book. He looked around and saw that everyone was a bit nervous. Especially Neville.
Arth sighed.
At breakfast on Thursday, Hermione told those who wanted to listen flying tips she'd gotten out of a book. Neville was hanging on to her every word, desperate for anything that might help him hang on to his broomstick later.
Hermione's speech was interrupted by the sudden arrival of mail. Harry got no mail as usual while Neville had gotten something from his grandmother.
He opened it excitedly and showed them 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...”
Neville was trying to remember what he'd forgotten when Draco Malfoy, who was passing the Gryffindor table, snatched the Remembrall out of his hand.
Harry and Ron jumped to their feet. They were half hoping for a reason to fight Malfay, but Professor McGonagall, who could spot trouble quicker than any teacher in the school, was there in a flash.
”What's going on?”
”Malfoy's got my Remembrall, Professor.”
Scowling, Malfoy quickly dropped the Remembrall back on the table.
”Just looking,” he said, and he sloped away with Crabbe and Goyle behind him.
Arth shook his head.
”I swear that something bad is going to happen during the flying lesson.”
”I hope it's going to be Malfoy, I could punch him in the face. Might wipe that smug grin off his face,” growled Ron who sat down with a loud humph.
Arth rolled his eyes.
”Just don't fall for his taunts. Last thing we need is to lose more points.”
At three-thirty that afternoon, Arth, Harry, Ron, and the other Gryffindors hurried down the front steps onto the grounds for their first flying lesson.
It was a clear, breezy day, and the grass rippled under their feet as they marched down the sloping lawns toward a smooth, flat lawn on the opposite side of the grounds to the forbidden forest, whose trees were swaying darkly in the distance.
The Slytherins were already there, and so were twenty broomsticks lying in neat lines on the ground.
Their teacher, Madam Hooch, arrived. She had short, gray hair, and yellow eyes like a hawk.
”Well, what are you all waiting for?” she barked. ”Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up.”
Arth glanced down at his broom. He could swear that if someone rode it for anymore that thirty minutes, it would snap.
”Stick out your right hand over your broom,” called Madam Hooch at the front, ”and say 'Up!”'
”UP!” everyone shouted.
Harry's broom jumped into his hand at once, and so did Arth's. Hermione Granger's had simply rolled over on the ground, and Neville's hadn't moved at all.
Madam Hooch then showed them how to mount their brooms without sliding off the end, and walked up and down the rows correcting their grips. Harry and Ron were delighted when she told Malfoy he'd been doing it wrong for years.
”Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard,” said Madam Hooch. ”Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle - three
- two -”
But Neville, nervous and jumpy and frightened of being left on the ground, pushed off hard before the whistle had touched Madam Hooch's lips.
”Come back, boy!” she shouted, but Neville was rising at a very fast pace. Everyone saw his scared white face look down at the ground, saw him gasp, slip sideways off the broom.
A bone chilling crack resounded as Neville lay facedown on the grass. His broomstick was still rising higher and higher, and started to drift lazily toward the forbidden forest and out of sight.
Madam Hooch was bending over Neville, her face as white as his.
”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.
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.
”Shut up, Malfoy,” snapped Parvati Patil.
”Ooh, sticking up for Longbottom?” said Pansy Parkinson, a hard-faced Slytherin girl. ”Never thought you'd like fat little crybabies,
Parvati.”
”Look!” said Malfoy, darting forward and snatching something out of the grass. ”It's that stupid thing Longbottom's gran sent him.”
The Remembrall glittered in the sun as he held it up.
”Give that here, Malfoy,” said Harry quietly.
Everyone stopped talking to watch.
Malfoy smiled nastily.
”I think I'll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find -- how about -- up a tree?”
”Lets be reasonable Malfoy, we don't have to do this.”
Malfoy sneered. ”Oh really, are you going to stop me Mr. Kingscrown.”
”I don't think that throwing someone else's possession onto a tree is rational, especially when they are an unrelated party. Don't you think?”
”I don't know. But I do know that I don't like useless crybabies like him. I'm thinking that the forbidden forest is also a nice location.”
Malfoy had leapt onto his broomstick and taken off. He hadn't been lying, he could fly well. Hovering level with the topmost branches of an oak he called, ”Come and get it, Potter!”
Harry grabbed his broom.
”No!” shouted Hermione Granger. ”Madam Hooch told us not to move - you'll get us all into trouble.”
”She has a point,” added Arth. ”Please don't be driven by your anger, be a rational-”
However, Harry ignored their warnings. He mounted the broom and kicked hard against the ground and up, up he soared. He turned his broomstick sharply to face Malfoy in midair. Malfoy looked stunned.
All Arth could hear were indecipherable words and facial expressions.
Harry leaned forward and grasped the broom tightly in both hands, and it shot toward Malfay like a javelin. Malfoy only just got out of the way in time; Harry made a sharp about-face and held the broom steady. A few people started to clap.
Seeing the midair fight, Arth groaned.
”This idiot, I can't believe it.” Arth grumbled before grabbing his broom.
Hermione looked on with horror.
”Are you seriously going to chase after them?”
Arth wryly smiled. ”What else can I do? Let them kill themselves due to a brief moment of spite?”
”But you might get expelled.”
Arth calmly leapt on his broom and gave a slight grin. ”I wouldn't be a friend if I didn't help him out. A little threat like expulsion won't deter me.”
He too blasted off from the ground.
On his way up, he started to hear a bit more clearly.
”No Crabbe and Goyle up here to save your neck, Malfoy,” Harry called. The same thought seemed to have struck Malfoy.
”Catch it if you can, then!” he shouted, and he threw the glass ball high into the air and streaked back toward the ground.
Arth saw the Remembrall shoot through the air and groaned. He put on a burst of speed, and caught up to the Remembrall. He had grabbed it when he glanced down and saw that his broom was about to snap. With no time to think, Arth threw the Remembrall at Harry who caught it and got as low to the floor as he could.
When Arth was about ten feet above the ground, the broom snapped and Arth fell to the ground. Arth tried to minimize the impact by twisting his body into roll and tumbled into a bush.
”HARRY POTTER!”
Professor McGonagall was running toward them.
”Never - in all my time at Hogwarts -”
Professor McGonagall was almost speechless with shock, and her glasses flashed furiously.
”How dare you - might have broken your neck-”
”It wasn't his fault, Professor -”
”Be quiet, Miss Patil.”
”But Malfoy --”
”That's enough, Mr. Weasley. Potter, follow me, now.”
It was only after Harry and Professor McGonagall leave, did Arth decide to get out of the bush.
Seeing his classmates stare at him blankly.
”...So does this mean that I'm not in trouble?”
”I can't believe it,” said Hermione. ”You actually managed to escape trouble like that?”