Harry Potter, The Bronze Boy

a bROOM'N aND a zOOM'N

Harry watched warily as they came along with Madam Hooch. The green-eyed wonder couldn't help but want to leave in favor of researching about that tracking spell he saw.

The journal had lots of old spells inside its golden bindings. The tracking spell was a simple one that was made very difficult as it was wandless only.

It was one of the first spells in his mother's second book. The book filled with handwritten notes about the spells. In the margin, she wrote notes.

‘Extra swish when pronouncing the “vo”’ by a spell called, excavo, a digging spell’

Another was, incolumis. The caster shot the spell wherever they were going to fall and it safely carried them there.

But alas, here he was, practicing flying. It wasn't that he hated flying, no he just didn't see the fun in it. But he only went three feet off the ground.

And Remis always got sad when he saw Harry on a broom, he looked too much like his father. So, he never flew, well until Hogwarts.

He looked like his father. Remus had stopped saying it after the first few months they lived together. But before that, it was said at least twice a day.

Sighing, he commanded the magic stick into his hand. Like everyone else he could hover and such.

Draco and his gang were doing their own thing. Harry would join, but he could not deal with all of their flying hype. He just couldn't. Their excessive Quidditch talk seemed to drain him of his energy, as he thought of doing literally anything else.

Harry looked over at Anthony to see him talking to Terry. They were talking about swans if memory serves correct.

Suddenly, there was a faint crack of bones being broken and a collective gasp. Turning he saw a kid laying face first on the ground, his arm sticking out from under him in an odd angle.

Oliver, one of the other Ravenclaw boys, had broken his arm. Harry held in a grimace, he knew from experience that broken bones are never fun.

“No one in the air while I take him to Madam Pomfrey,” Hooch boomed as she carefully picked up the broken boy, and helped him inside to the school's matron.

It had taken Harry longer than he would like to admit that he was befuddled by the fact that he had to go the matron instead of healing himself.

Why did they not teach that? Back home first-aid was essential to learn, as you never knew when you would need such skills.

Harry had only two experiences with the woman. The matron was a nice woman, but very strict from what Harry could gather.

As soon as Hooch was gone the Slytherins started up a pick me up game of Quidditch, a  few Ravens joined in.

One of the balls had gotten stuck on a tree. Pike, a Slytherin who usually hung around Draco's group, brought back not only the ball but a Remembrall as well.

“Look, I  found Longbottom’s Remembrall!” Referring to when the Longbottom heir had gotten said magical object that morning.

Upon hearing this, Harry quickly rose from where he had been reading under a tree and demanded, “Give it to me,”

More than a few people gave him looks. He never talked to anyone out of his circle if he could help it, preferring to keep to his books.

“And what if I don't, Potter?” the tall lanky boy asked mockingly as he walked towards Harry and towered over him.

“It will end up in my hand before the next class,” the shorter boy said with distaste.

“I'd love to see you try,” the taller boy said as he hopped onto his broom and flew up into the air.