Chapter 9 - Flying Lessons

Arth picked up a nut and fed it to Corvus, all the while holding a frown on his face. It had been at least a week since school had started and Arth had finally found a class he despised. Of the two classes he couldn't read books in, one of them was potions. But at least potions was fun. The other class was called Physical Education, and Arth frankly hated it.

It wasn't due to the fact that Arth was lazy when it came to physical movement, not at all. It was due to the fact that one, as mentioned before, it was hard to read in that class and two, all the houses shared that class together. Both Group A and B.

His very anti friendly Ravenclaw Mayes would be there. Malfoy and his gang would be there. Harry Potter and his friend Ron would be there. The only thing positive he could think about the class was that he. . . .

Corvus let out a peep and refused the nut Arth was handing him, snapping him back into reality.

Honestly, he couldn't think of a reason why P.E. was enjoyable. He couldn't stand Harry and Draco bickering over each other.

There was a soft flutter of feathers as the daily arrival of mail. Owls entered through the windows and delivered letters from family and gifts.

Arth could overhear Neville from the Gryffindor table let out an excited about.

"It's a Remembrall!" he exclaimed. "Gran knows I forget things- this tells you if there's something you've forgotten to do. Look, you hold it tight like this and if it turns red- oh..." Neville's face fell, due to the Remembrall suddenly glowing scarlet, You've forgotten something..."

Draco Malfoy, who was passing the Gryffindor table, snatched the Remembrall out of his hand.

Immediately, Harry and Ron jumped to their feet seeming eager for a fight.

Arth sighed as Professor McGonagall quickly resolved the situation. He was honestly getting tired of their mini fights during classes, in the hallways, etc.

They were childish and stupid. They needed some books.

Daphne had finally arrived to breakfast and promptly sat next to him.

"How's it going Arth?"

Arth just sighed in response.

At three-thirty that afternoon, Arth and Daphne headed down to the grounds for their P.E. Class. Today was the first flying class and nobody truly wanted to miss it, except for Arth.

It was a clear, windy day, and the grass crunched under their feet as they walked down to the lawn on the opposite side of the grounds to the forbidden forest, which looked as ominous as it sounded.

All of the students were already there, and so were forty broomsticks lying in neat lines on the ground. Their teacher, Madam Hooch, soon arrived. She had short, gray hair, and yellow eyes like a hawk.

"Well, what are you all waiting for?" she barked. "Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up."

Arth glanced down at his broom. It looked as if today was going to be it's last flight.

"Stick out your right hand over your broom," called Madam Hooch at the front, "and say: Up!"

"UP!" everyone shouted.

Arth watched his surroundings as everyone attempted to make their brooms rise into their hands. There were some people who had managed to do it on their first try, but a majority needed a second or third try.

Daphne let out a triumphant grin as her broom jumped into her hand.

Arth gave her a thumbs up before lazily outstretched his hand above his broom. The broom immediately flew up gracefully, in contrast with its ragged looks.

Madam Hooch then showed them how to mount their brooms without sliding off the end, and walked up and down the rows correcting their grips.

"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard," said Madam Hooch. "Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle. Three- two- "

But Neville left the ground before the whistle had touched Madam Hooch's lips.

"Come back, boy!" she shouted, but Neville was rising straight up like a cork shot out of a bottle- twelve feet- twenty feet. Arth saw his terrified face look down at the ground as he slipped off his broom and started to fall.

Madam Hooch pulled out her wand but it was too late.

There was a nasty crunch as Neville hit the floor.

Arth winced. "Fractured arm most likely, maybe even the leg."

Madam Hooch turned to the rest of the class. "None of you is to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing! You leave those brooms where they are or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quidditch.' Come on, dear."

Neville, his face tear-streaked, clutching his wrist, hobbled off with Madam Hooch, who had her arm around him.

No sooner were they out of earshot than Malfoy burst into laughter. "Did you see his face, the great lump?"

"Shut up, Malfoy," snapped Parvati Patil.

"Ooh, sticking up for Longbottom?" said Pansy Parkinson, a hard-faced Slytherin girl. "Never thought you'd like fat little crybabies,

Parvati."

"Look!" said Malfoy, darting forward and snatching something out of the grass. "It's that stupid thing Longbottom's gran sent him."

The Remembrall glittered in the sun as he held it up.

"Give that here, Malfoy," said Harry quietly.

Everyone stopped talking to watch.

Malfoy smiled nastily. "I think I'll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find- how about- up a tree?"

"This is getting ridiculous," said Arth, a frown starting to form upon his face. "Is it really necessary to act like a total prick all the time?"

Malfoy narrowed his eyes.

"Who are you? I've never seen you before."

Arth felt like punching someone but somehow resisted the urge and outstretched his hand.

"My name is Arthur Kingscrown, I'm in your class you know-"

"Oh! You are the Ravenclaw boy that sticks around with Greengrass all the time? Stop getting in my way." Smirked Malfoy before getting in his broom.

"If you want to stop me, then come up here and stop me!"

Arth's frown deepened but he did not get on his broom.

"What are you scared, Kingscrown? Should I start calling you Cowardscrown?"

Arth's eyes erupted in a dangerous shade of red as he grabbed his broom. Daphne, however, held him back.

"Arth, calm down. It's not worth the trouble."

"I really wanna punch him right now," Arth growled while glaring at Malfoy, "maybe throw some books at him. . . . Ten points if I hit him in the body?"

Daphne let out a smirk. "Thirty points if you hit his head."

"Fifty if I get his nose?"

Malfoy, who couldn't hear anything from up above let out a laugh, "Whether it's you Potter or Cowardscrown, someone get up here before I throw Neville's stupid ball."

Arth took out a sizable book and started to estimate the distance between him and Malfoy when Harry suddenly blasted into the air.

Arth, Daphne, and the brown haired girl called Hermione couldn't help but sigh at the exact same time. "Idiots."

"Give it back Malfoy!"

"So it's you who came Potter, I have to say that you are better than that Cowardscrown."

"Shut up and hand it over!"

"Catch it if you can, then!" he shouted, and he threw the glass ball high into the air and streaked back toward the ground.

Arth saw as Harry chased after the ball, while Malfoy came back to the floor with a smirk. When Harry caught the ball after a steep dive, and landed onto the grass safely, a loud stern voice called out to them.

"HARRY POTTER!"

Professor McGonagall, the transfigurations teacher who was well know for her strict personality, had seen the whole event.

"Never- in all my time at Hogwarts-"

Professor McGonagall was almost speechless with shock, and her glasses flashed furiously, "- how dare you- might have broken your neck-"

"It wasn't his fault, Professor-"

"Be quiet, Miss Patil!"

"But Malfoy-"

"That's enough, Mr. Weasley. Potter, follow me, now."

As Professor McGonagall whisked a dejected looking Harry back into the castle, the Slytherins erupted in laughter. Of them all, Malfoy was the loudest.

"Did you see the look on Potter's face? I bet he is going to be expelled-"

Just as Malfoy was about to let out a nasty laugh, a book came flying through the air and hit him straight on the nose knocking him down to the floor.

The entire class went quiet as an indifferent voice coolly said, "fifty points for the head. Do I get another hundred for knocking him down?"