The next day brought mixed feelings for Harry. They were having their first lessons in flying a broomstick today, and he had looked forward to it since Hagrid had first told him about Quidditch. He still wasn't entirely sure how one flew on a broom or exactly how it worked but it sure seemed fun. On the other hand, they had been told earlier that week that they were supposed to have lessons together with the Slytherins. Not so good for Harry. He decided to ignore that part of the day and just look forward to learning something new.

At breakfast Neville showed off his new Rememberall and Harry felt a brief glimpse of jealousy at the gift. It was such a small thing but Neville's grandmother had taken the time to pick out and owl something that would be of help to her grandson.

Harry glanced over at the Slytherin table and saw Malfoy open his customary package of sweets from his parents and Dudley cramming his mouth full with a Mars bar Aunt Petunia must have sent him. His face showed no sign of the bruises Harry knew he must have given him two days earlier so Dudley must have gotten help either from Madame Promfrey or from Snape. Harry wasn't sure which of the two he least wished to have tended Dudley. Madame Promfrey had seemed like a nice enough lady from the little he had seen at the welcoming feast and he would hate for her to think ill of him. On the other hand, Snape didn't need another incentive to hate Harry. In any case, he figured he'd find out if Dudley had tattled on him soon enough. He'd probably already owled his parents.

”Whatcha got, Longbottom?”
It was Malfoy.

He reached out and snatched Neville's Rememberall, tossing it from one hand to another.
”Give it back, it's a present from my gran!” Neville said, rather softly.

”I wonder why she bothers. Everyone knows you're a lost cause already. I heard your family thought you were a squib for ages. Amazing they let you come here at all...”

Neville's face glowed with embarrassment and he looked down at his hands.

”Yeah, big wonder,” Dudley added. He had come up after Malfoy and his cronies and was standing to the left of them, a couple of steps behind them. At his words, Malfoy turned around and fixed Dudley with an icy glare.

”Who asked you, fatso?” he asked, contempt in his voice. The two boys stared at each other until Dudley give in and left, moving as fast as his rotund body would allow him.

”This school sure has gone downhill. I can't imagine what my father will say. Enjoy your toy, squib.” Malfoy tossed the Rememberall into the air and Neville caught it, but just barely. He looked absolutely devastated, and Harry was sure he could see wetness on his cheeks before Neville quickly wiped it away with an angry hand.

”I got in. I got in. I did get in, that means I'm not a squib... I'm not,” Neville mumbled, more to himself than to the other first year Gryffindors. They hurriedly assured him that he wasn't, of course not! Even Harry joined in, even though he hadn't the slightest idea what the word meant. He'd ask Ron later.

Flying lessons were held just outside the castle on the big lawn there, probably so there wouldn't been a lot of things in their way in case the brooms got away from them. Hermione was clutching Quidditch through the Ages in her arms and Harry could see that her knuckles were white. Brooms lay in two neat rows and Madam Hooch, their teacher, stood in the middle with her hands on her hips. She was a stern-looking woman with well-muscled arms and a sharply cut mouth. She balanced back and forth onto the balls of her feet, as if she was too impatient to stand still. Her steel gray hair was short and looked as though she drove her fingers through it often, to keep it out of her eyes.

Harry went up to a broom and studied it carefully. It didn't look very much like a broom one used for sweeping, it seemed more designed and thought-out. Some of the twigs were broken and bent, however, and he remembered hearing Fred and George complaining about the inferior school brooms. He swallowed. Suddenly his mouth felt dry and his insides clenched with anxiety.

He wasn't the only one. Neville looked positively ill and Hermione's face was stark white against the frame of her bushy hair. Dudley also seemed worried, and Harry was sure it was because Dudley hated any kind of exercise, mostly because his large body prevented him from taking more than a few steps without panting.

”Alright, settle down!” Madam Hooch cried in a commanding voice. Harry had already decided she was a no-nonsense lady whom he did not want to cross.

”Each of you, choose a broom and hold out one hand over it. When I tell you, say 'up!' in a firm voice, but without shouting. Understood?” All the students nodded in unison.

”On the count of three then. One...two...three! UP!”

 
Amazingly enough, Harry's broom lifted off the ground and he caught it squarely.

He was one of the few who had succeeded though. Hermione's rolled weakly on the ground, as did Dudley's. Neville's hadn't moved at all and Dean Thomas' only came half-way before it fell back to the ground with a slap.

”You have to be convincing! Want it! Those who did not succeed, again!”

”UP!”

After two more tries, everyone (even Dudley, Harry noted with disdain) managed. Madam Hooch now showed them how to mount their brooms, and this took a good amount of time. Eventually they were all set up and ready to start flying! Unfortunately, that was when things started to go downhill.

Neville, in his nervousness, shot up into the air like a cannon ball and ended up sprawled, clutching his wrist in agony. Madam Pomfrey whisked him off to the Hospital Wing with a warning for them to 'stay on the ground, or else!'

The student broke into smaller groups, discussing the incident and wondering if they would get to try flying this week or not. After a few minutes, they were interrupted.

”Did you see the big crybaby?

”Look what I found! It didn't do him much good, he forgot his brain someplace anyway!” Malfoy triumphantly waved Neville's Rememberall in the air.

”Give it back, Malfoy,” Harry said, surprised at how calm his voice sounded.

”If you want it, come and get it, Potter. Or are you too much of a coward?” Draco walked over to his broom and in an instant, he was in the air, 15 feet above the ground.

And Harry was after him, before he even had the chance to think the plan through properly. And he chased after Malfoy and Malfoy taunted him and Neville! Harry was so angry he couldn't see straight. If he could just get Neville's present back...

Suddenly he was on the ground, clutching the glass ball tightly in his hand and with the sound of cheers from the other Gryfffindors in his ears. And Malfoy... Malfoy was staring at him, dumbfounded.

The broom fell from his hands onto the ground and he heard slap against the hard surface. He clenched his hands into fists and felt the Rememberall's cool glass against his palm. The cheers had died down and the pitch was eerily quiet. Malfoy had not spoken and neither had Dudley. Dudley's eyes were wide and filled with something Harry identified as a reluctant awe. Harry was sure his cousin had never seen him as good at something. In school, his aunt and uncle had always forced him to perform badly and he had never played sports or worked with computers. All Dudley had seen him do was clean and cook and those chores were so ordinary that Dudley would not consider Harry to 'be good at them'. But flying, apparently, was a talent of Harry's. And Dudley had realized this.

Harry's stomach and head apparently thought he was still in the air, he felt so light. He looked away from Dudley and stumbled backwards. Small, strong hands caught him and Hermione's bushy hair filled his vision.

”Are you alright, Harry?” She spoked quietly and Harry was most likely the only one who heard her. ”Here, sit down. You look pale.”

She pulled him away from the others and gently sat him down on the ground. She tried to pry the Rememberall from him but he held on to it. Everything he saw was black around the edges, like he was looking at the world through a pair of binoculars. The thought of walking around with a huge pair of binoculars taped to his face made him giggle softly and he felt Hermione's hand tighten on his upper-arm.

”... thinking, Harry?”

He shook his head.

”What?”

”What are you thinking about, Harry? Are you sure you're alright?”

Harry closed his eyes. He still felt lightheaded and... odd. But it wasn't in a bad way He felt like he usually did after Dudley and his gang had played Harry hunting, only in a.... better way. He couldn't explain it. The rush from being up in the air was gone and he felt tired and content

”I feel... Fine. Honest!” He tried a smile and was relieved when small dimples showed in Hermione's face.

He took a deep breath and pushed himself of the ground. The grass was soft and still damp from the morning dew. His fingers pressed into the moist dirt and he was reminded of days spent on his hands and knees planting flowers and weeding. The dirt in his memories was always dry and crumbling.

Harry was on his feet and was brushing off his trousers when he heard it.

”POTTER!”

Harry's stomach hit his toes and continued down.