Chapter 6 - Flying Lessons

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~Hannah's PoV~

The next day, Hermione woke me up early for breakfast, and we then headed to our first class - Transfiguration, taught by Professor McGonagall. We arrived on time, but the same couldn't be said for Harry and Ron, who rushed in late. I was sat with Hermione and we were taking notes from our textbooks for the most of that lesson. A few days later, we had our first Potions class, which I was slightly terrified of. We all had taken seats in the class and were waiting for Professor Snape, when he came bursting through the door. "There will be no foolish wand waving or silly incantations in this class. As such, I don't expect many of you to appreciate the subtle science and exact art that is potion making, however for those select few who posses the predisposition, I can teach you how to bewitch the mind and ensnare the senses. I can tell you how to bottle fame, brew glory and even put a stopper in death." He paused, looking directly at Harry. "Then again, maybe some of you have come to Hogwarts in possession of abilities so formidable that you feel confident enough to not. Pay. Attention." Harry looked up at Snape, and away from the notes he was writing.

"Mr Potter. Our new celebrity. As well as Miss Potter here of course." He looks at me, but quickly looks away. "Mr Potter, now tell me what would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?" Harry shook his head, and Hermione shot her arm into the air, as fast as lightning. "You don't know?" Snape asked. "What about you Miss Potter. Do you know?" I also shook my head, not sure of the answer. "Then let's try again. Where Miss Potter would you look if I asked you to find me a bezoar?" Hermione's hand shot up once again. "I don't know, sir." I said, frowning. "Mr Potter, what is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?" Snape asked him. "I don't know sir." He said. "Pity. Clearly fame isn't everything, is it." After interrogating is some more, we finished our lesson and had lunch.

Seamus was trying to turn his water into rum with a silly spell. "He actually managed to make tea yesterday! Before he-" Ron was interrupted by Seamus' goblet exploding. Everyone laughed, including me. "Ah! Mails here!" Ron said excitedly. A large group of owls swooped in through an open window, some carrying letters, others small parcels, and in Ron's case, a newspaper. Ron also received a letter, so whilst he opened this, Harry asked to borrow his newspaper, which is called 'The Daily Prophet'. Neville opened up a small parcel he received from his gran. "Look everyone! Neville's got a remembrall!" Dean Thomas said. "I've read about those, when the smoke turns red, it means you've forgotten something!" Hermione said, as the smoke in Neville's remembrall turned red. "The only problem is, I can't remember what I've forgotten!" Harry scanned the newspaper he was looking at, and showed a bit to Hermione, Ron and I, that said someone had broken into Gringotts bank. "Listen, 'believed to be the work of dark wizards or witches unknown, Gringotts goblins when acknowledging the breach insisted nothing was taken. The vault in question, number 713, had in fact been emptied earlier that very same day'. That's odd. That's the vault Hagrid went to." Hermione, Ron, Harry and I looked at each other, nervously.

Next thing we knew, it was time for our first flying lesson. Slytherin and Gryffindors had this lesson together.
"Good afternoon class." Our teacher said.
"Good afternoon Madam Hooch." We all said in unison. "Welcome to your first flying lesson. Well, what are you waiting for. Everyone step up to the left side of your broom. Come on now, hurry up. Stick your right hand out over your broom, and say up." Madam Hooch instructed is. Harry was the first to get his broom up, as soon as he said 'up' the broom flew straight into his hand. It took me two tries, but then came up to my hand. Draco Malfoy was next to get his up. Everyone else slowly got theirs up into their hands, but Ron's hit him in the face.
"Now, once you've got hold of your broom, I want you to mount it. Grip it tight, we don't want you sliding off the end. When I blow my whistle, I want each of you to kick off from the ground hard. Keep your broom steady, hover for a moment, then lean forward slightly and touch back down. On my whistle, three, two," She blew her whistle, and Neville rose off the ground without even kicking!

The Potter Twins {1} - Missing Piece | A Harry Potter Fanfiction Onde histórias criam vida. Descubra agora