Freak

Chapter 17

Sorry for the (*extremely long) wait. School is almost out so I should be updating a lot more soon. 

(*Understatement of the month)

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As Freak ate an apple he had snagged from breakfast, he contemplated his first few weeks at Hogwarts. It had only been about three weeks since he first recruited the Slytherin portrait for information gathering. For the most part, what happened in his classes stayed consistent. Snape acted odd, Divination was odd, Mcgonagall was strict, Flitwick was cheery, he could go on. Today, they were starting the flying class.

He kept walking towards the designated area near the front of the school, tossing his apple core into a nearby bush. He had been interested about this 'flying' everyone was talking about; after all, if he could fly then he could escape his tormentors during the summer, couldn't he? Eventually he reached the courtyard in which the lesson would take place in. several hufflepuffs as well as most of the Ravenclaw class was already there. It didn't take long before a peculiar woman to come strolling out to meet them, brooms tucked under her arm.

"I am Madam Hooch." She introduced herself to the class. "I will be your flying instructor. May I remind you that you cannot have brooms of your own until next year. Anywho, let us begin." With a flick of her wand, the brooms were magicked into a row.

"Pick a broom to use, and once near it, hold your hand above it and say up!" She demonstrated, and the enchanted wood flew to her hand like iron to a magnet.

Choruses of up! Could be heard around the school yard, with varying results. About half the class was able to get their brooms to lift, while the others looked quite silly talking to a stick. (Although, Freak reasoned, it was an odd place, and speaking to sticks could quite possibly be a common practice.)

Freak contemplated how to get his broom to move, before settling with a very concentrated thought of "up!" To his surprise, and the shock of several (failing) students near him, the broom shot up into his waiting hand.

Not too long after that, Madam Hooch instructed the rest of the class to manually pick up their brooms, and for everyone to mount said brooms.

"Now. When I blow my whistle, I want you to push off from the ground softly." She checked to make sure everyone was ready, then blew her whistle with a shrill screech.

Freak rose into the air and a feeling of elation washed over him. He didn't know what it was- the wind hitting his face, the flap of his cloak, the whip of his hair, the thrill of being suspended in mid-air- Freak loved it. He almost found himself smiling, even, before the whistle was blown and he had to land, once again, on the dull ground. He stared wistfully at his broom as he dismounted. He definitely needed to do this again, he didn't care what it took, he was going to fly.