CH30

"No. It's someone's private thoughts. If it were me, I would kill anyone who made fun at them."

"If it such a big deal, then he shouldn't have left it out where anyone could find it."

"No." Clyde pouted and glared and whined, and Harry thoroughly ignored him. As the other boys rose misty eyed from their beds, he asked if any of them owned a journal. No one fessed up to it, and seemed rather irritated with him for thinking they'd have something so 'girly'. Mystified and now suspecting someone was playing a prank on him, Harry resolved to give the journal to McGonagall. There was probably some sort of spell she knew that would reveal the owner and if anyone had tried to prank him then they would soon regret it. He stuck the book in his pocket and headed down with Clyde to breakfast. Hermione was also up early, her nose buried in 'Quidditch Through the Ages', trying to find any tips she could. Just watching her stress gave Harry a headache. The constant, nervous babble about brooms and Quidditch and magical travel she poured out didn't make him feel any better. In fact, his headache only grew worse as classes began, and he began to wonder if he hadn't caught a cold. When it was finally time for flying lessons, Harry emptied his pockets and set them on his bag so they wouldn't be damaged in case he fell off a broom and then went to line up with the rest of the first year Gryffindors and Slytherins. With fresh air in his lungs and sun warm on his skin, Harry felt his headache recede a bit, but he still wanted to go and take a nap somewhere.

Professor Gimms regarded them all with piercing blue eyes, looking with a practiced gaze for the troublemakers and the slackers. In addition to being their flying couch and official referee for Hogwarts Quidditch matches, Gimms coordinated several clubs including a Riding Club (which usually involved a lot more than just horses) and Fencing club, and assisted Quirrell in some of his more 'physical' lessons. There were rumors running around the school that he had once been an Auror, and others that he had been a Death Eater. Harry thought about asking Hermione about him, but settling his curiosity wasn't worth the rambling monologue she'd end up spewing at him.

"Now," Professor Gimms began, "before we get started, let me set down some ground rules. Firstly, I don't care how good of a flyer you think you are. You will not ride your broom any higher or faster than I allow, and you will certainly never ride your broom when I am not present. If you're stupid enough to disobey me, then you will suffer the greatest degree of punishment I am able to legally inflict upon you... if you don't break your stupid neck first."

Harry wondered why all the teachers here were so grouchy. Only Flitwick seemed to have any sense of humor. They lived in an enchanted castle for goodness sake, not an orc fortress. While he was busy thinking these morose thoughts and ignoring his throbbing head, Gimms was rearranging the students. He suddenly found himself surrounded by Draco's goons, the surliest of them being Ron who was directly to his right. The redhead gave him a mutinous look.

"Careful," Harry said, sounding bored, "Your face might stick like that."

If anything the look grew even angrier.

"Now, hold out your wand hand towards your broom- like so, and command your broom firmly and confidently. Up!" Immediately, the professor's broom leapt into his hand. "Well, what are you waiting for?" Harry watched as the other students commanded their brooms. He was vaguely amused to see Hermione's merely rolled over and seemed to fall asleep. Draco's broom found his hand immediately, but his was about the only one that did. The rest of the brooms hobbled or bounced a bit, but didn't rise. Harry, after seeing there was no way he could actually embarrass himself, held out his hand.

"Up," he said evenly. The broom sprung immediately into his grasp. A strange sensation ran through him, very similar to the one he felt the day he received his wand. It was a sense of rightness. A spontaneous understanding that no ill could ever find him when it was in his hands.

"Impossible," Ron muttered, "You cheated somehow. No way a filthy mudblood-"

"Could ever succeed where a pureblood failed?"

"Why you son of a-"

"Malfoy, Potter, well done," called Gimms, looking suddenly in a much better mood. "Five points to Slytherin and Gryffindor each. The rest of you, don't get discouraged. Confidence is key. If you don't believe the broom will come to you, then it won't. Continue practicing, and then I'll show you all how to mount your brooms."

While Harry waited for the others to catch up, he repeated the same exercise until he was quickly bored. Soon he began testing to see if he could make the broom rise part of the way or make it hover. Meanwhile, Ron grew increasingly red as his broom simply flopped about, until with a particularly frustrated 'UP!' his broom leapt up- and missed his hand altogether to conk him in the nose. Harry pretended he hadn't noticed, but it was hard to keep a straight face with everyone else snickering. Ron didn't remain the center of their amusement for long. Just as everyone was starting to get the hand of summoning their brooms, the class was interrupted by a sixth year Ravenclaw in Quidditch robes running up to Professor Gimms.

"Sir! Someone's bewitched the quidditch equipment! The snitch is smashing into people like a bludger and the quaffles are flying all over the place," the boy exclaimed, looking very unsettled. "It's those Weasley twins, I know it! Who else would pull such a ridiculous prank? And on school property no less!"

Harry felt his lips twitch into a smile, but quickly hid it when he saw Professor Grimms good mood vanish as quickly as it had come.

"You all remain where you are! Under no circumstances are you to attempt to fly. I will be back momentarily."

With that, Professor Gimms disappeared with the Ravenclaw boy to the other side of the castle. No sooner than the man was out of sight, did Draco mount his broom and hover comfortably just above the ground. Hermione told him to get down, but the more she complain the higher he seemed to go until she decided to completely ignore him.

"What about you, Potter? You seem to have some talent with a broom. Care to come up and enjoy the view?"

If his head wasn't throbbing and he were in a better mood, Harry would have been very tempted. Instead he favored Draco a bored glance and merely shrugged.

"I'll wait." Draco gave a mocking pout, but quickly returned to hovering in slow circles around the other students, preening under their fascinated stares. Hermione grew considerably more huffy, but said nothing. Gradually, even Draco seemed to grow bored (or perhaps he was beginning to worry about Gimms catching him) and began to descend when something behind Harry and Hermione caught his attention. Harry followed the other boy's gaze and found Ron standing next to his book bag, holding the mysterious journal.

"Hey! What are you doing in my bag?" When the redhead looked towards him, he felt his insides squirm as he was stared at with such a twisted look of glee.

"You know," Ron said, "this isn't the sort of thing you should just leave lying around. You're just begging to have someone read it."

Harry began stalking towards Ron.

"It's not mine. I'm turning it in to McGonagall. Now hand it over."

"Why? If it's not yours, then I'm sure you won't mind me borrowing it. I promise I'll hand it over to a teacher later. You know...like Snape."

"Ron," snapped Natalie, "Don't be such a dick. Just give it back to him."

"You had no right snooping in Harry's bag! If we told a teacher, you'd really get it! Even your Head of House wouldn't approve of you stealing!"

"Who asked you, you mudblood harpies?!"

"That's it!" Harry snarled, rushing at the redhead who panicked and started to run away. "Come back here, you little weasel." Ron spun around, wand in hand. His broom still clutched in his hand, Harry swung it and knocked the wand from his hand and into the lake. Ron stumbled back, nearly falling over, and snatched up a broom. Despite his miserable performance thus far, the redhead managed to mount his broom and lift himself shakily into the air. He wobbled a bit and looked extremely uncomfortable without his feet on the ground, but still managed to keep his hold on the diary and sneer down mockingly at Harry.

But only for a moment. Harry was on his broom and hovering right beside him, staring him dead even in the eye. The broom rested calmly under his grip, neither wobbling nor wavering. Harry took it all for granted, trusting his broom and his body to know how to keep him levitating. His opponent looked barely able to hold onto his broom and remain aloft at the same time. Yet their brooms continue to hover, and as Ron instinctively moved away from Harry they were soon almost fifty feet up and over the lake.

"Give me the book and apologize to Hermione and Natalie," he said, "Or I'll knock you off your broom and you can swim back to Hogwarts."

"Harry, get down from there! It's dangerous and the professor will catch you any minute! Hurry up or you're going to get expelled," Hermione pleaded.

Draco, who had been silently watching the conflict unravel, also spoke up.

"You heard her, Weasley. Fight it out if you want, but do it on the ground."

Ron looked decidedly unsure. Harry thought him even dimmer than before. It should have been obvious that he couldn't win this fight... at least not in the air. Ron finally seemed to come to that conclusion as well. He glowered at Harry.

"We'll continue this later," he snarled.

✨Visit my site at tiendup for more advanced content...✨

✨Read the complete novel in PDF, available at my Store!…✨

 ✨https://smithnovels.tiendup.com/✨