Chapter 20: Chapter 19 Flying Lessons
Notes:
I'd like to give a special shout-out to my sister who read my story and looked over this chapter, her help was invaluable (She knows exactly what I mean :D )
I appreciate all of the love, and I have loosely finished the outline for the rest of the first year, but if you have any suggestions or recommendations, let me know as nothing has been set in stone. Ha ha ha... puns.
Let me know what y'all think,
CatBug!
Chapter Text
After getting his health scan, Hadrian left the hospital wing, content to let Andromeda smooth things over with the obviously distraught Madam Pomfrey and the severely shaken potions master. He got a note on Saturday morning to return to the hospital wing after breakfast, which he did with great reluctance.
Fortunately, Andromeda had explained everything that Madam Pomfrey and Professor Snape needed to know, so the follow-up visit was to go over his treatment plan. Snape would make the potions he needed, and Madam Pomfrey would talk to the elves about administering them at mealtimes. He didn't bother telling them that he had already done so at the beginning of the week. Satisfied to let the adults think that they had everything handled, Hadrian left the hospital wing once more and met up with his friends to explore the grounds and grow more accustomed to the new place that they now called home.
On Monday, all any of the first-years could talk about was the flying lessons they would begin that week. Flying lessons would begin on Thursday – and Slytherin would be learning with Gryffindor.
Hadrian had been looking forward to flying, but the more that Malfoy went on and on about what a prodigy he was on a broom, the more exasperated he got. Hadrian had never believed he would meet a boy he hated more than Dudley, but that was before he met Draco Malfoy.
"Typical," said Hadrian darkly. "Just what I always wanted. To make a fool of myself on a broomstick in front of Malfoy." What he really wanted was to shut the git up.
"You don't know that you'll make a fool of yourself," said Daphne reasonably. "Anyway, I know Malfoy's always going on about how good he is at Quidditch, but I bet that's all talk."
Malfoy certainly did talk about flying a lot. He complained loudly about first years never getting on the house Quidditch teams and told long, boastful stories that always seemed to end with him narrowly escaping muggles in helicopters. He wasn't the only one, though: the way Seamus Finnigan told it, he'd spent most of his childhood zooming around the countryside on his broomstick. Even Ron Weasley would tell anyone who'd listen about the time he'd almost hit a hang glider on Charlie's old broom. Everyone from wizarding families talked about Quidditch constantly. Even Blaise and Theo were no exception, arguing over teams and players in conversations that Hadrian couldn't follow.
So, Hadrian did what he always did when he didn't know something. He went to the library. It was there that he found Hermione and Neville poring over Quidditch Through the Ages, a book on everything quidditch and perfect for nervous beginners.
Hermione had never been on a broomstick before, being from a muggle family, but she was one of the only ones not eager or excited to get on a broomstick.
"I believe in having my feet firmly on the ground," she told Hadrian when he asked, blowing her curls out of her brown eyes.
Neville had never been on a broomstick in his life, because his grandmother had never let him near one. Privately, Hadrian felt she'd had a good reason, because Neville managed to have an extraordinary number of accidents even with both feet on the ground, although he'd never tell his godbrother that. This was something you couldn't learn by heart out of a book – not that Hermione hadn't tried.
After breakfast on Tuesday, Hadrian looked across the Great Hall to see that she had nearly bored the students around her to tears with flying tips she'd gotten out of Quidditch Through the Ages. Neville was hanging on to her every word, desperate for anything that might help him hang on to his broomstick later, but everybody else at the Gryffindor table looked very pleased when Hermione's lecture was interrupted by the arrival of the mail.
Hadrian hadn't had a single letter since he had written the Tonkses last, something that Malfoy had been quick to notice, of course, as Hedwig visited him often at the breakfast table anyway for bacon and pets. Malfoy's eagle owl was always bringing him packages of sweets from home, which he opened gloatingly at the Slytherin table, often causing Hadrian to roll his eyes and Theo to groan.
A barn owl brought Neville a small package from his grandmother. He opened it excitedly and showed Hermione a glass ball the size of a large marble, which seemed to be full of white smoke.
"It's a Remembrall!" he explained. "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…" His face fell because the Remembrall had suddenly glowed scarlet, "…you've forgotten something…"
Neville was trying to remember what he'd forgotten when Draco Malfoy, who had gotten up to walk over to the Gryffindor table, snatched the Remembrall out of his hand.
Hadrian, who had also gotten up the moment he had seen Draco Malfoy start to walk over to his godbrother, quickly walked over and stood behind Malfoy, watching as the stupid boy ran his mouth, unaware of the danger he was in. Hermione noticed and hid her smirk behind her hand while Neville tried to get the Remembrall back.
Hadrian was half hoping for a reason to fight Malfoy, but Professor McGonagall, who could spot trouble quicker than any teacher in the school, was there in a flash.
"What's going on?"
"Malfoy's got my Remembrall, Professor," Neville said.
Scowling, Malfoy quickly dropped the Remembrall back on the table.
"Just looking," he said, and he sloped away with Crabbe and Goyle behind him, not noticing Hadrian who followed him with his eyes all the way out of the Great Hall, narrowed in suspicion. This wasn't over.
"Hey, Neville," he greeted his godbrother, getting a good morning in reply.
"It looks like you have forgotten your robes this morning. Unless you are making a fashion statement?" he teased. Neville's eyes widened as he looked down and didn't see his robes. He quickly ran out of the Hall, and Hadrian just laughed and winked at Hermione before making his way back to the Slytherin table to finish his breakfast.
At three-thirty that afternoon, Hermione, Neville, and the other Gryffindors hurried down the front steps onto the grounds for their first flying lesson. It was a clear, breezy day, and the grass rippled under their feet as they marched down the sloping lawns toward a smooth, flat lawn on the opposite side of the grounds to the forbidden forest, whose trees were swaying darkly in the distance. Many groaned when they saw that the Slytherins were already there, but not Hermione and Neville.
Quickly separating from their housemates once they arrived, the pair made their way over to where Hadrian and his loyal trio were waiting in the shade of a tree.
They all greeted each other with smiles as they waited for their instructor to meet them.
Their teacher, Madam Hooch, 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." Everyone rushed to stand by one of the twenty-odd broomsticks lying in the grass.
Hadrian glanced down at his broom. It was old, and some of the twigs stuck out at odd angles.
That bodes well, he thought sarcastically.
"Stick out your right hand over your broom," called Madam Hooch at the front, "and say 'Up!'"
"UP!" everyone shouted.
Hadrian's broom jumped into his hand at once, as did Blaise's and Theo's, but theirs were some of the few that did. Hermione's had simply rolled over on the ground, and Neville's hadn't moved at all.
Perhaps brooms, like horses, could tell when you were afraid, thought Hadrian.
There was a quaver in Neville's voice that said only too clearly that he wanted to keep his feet on the ground.
"Say it like it is a misbehaving plant," Hadrian suggested to Neville. "Or like it is an overexcited puppy," he told Hermione. Eventually, everyone has a broom in their hand, although Daphne didn't look thrilled at the prospect.
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. Hadrian and Blaise were delighted when she told Malfoy he'd been doing it wrong for years. Theo just snickered in a satisfied sort of way.
"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."
Wait, that's it? Hadrian thought before she continued.
"On my whistle – three – two –"
But Neville, nervous and jumpy and frightened of being left on the ground, pushed off hard before the whistle had touched Madam Hooch's lips.
"Come back, boy!" she shouted, and all Hadrian could think was really, you think that yelling at him will work? But Neville was rising straight up like a cork shot out of a bottle – twelve feet – twenty feet. Hadrian saw his scared white face look down at the ground falling away, saw him gasp, slip sideways off the broom, and –
WHAM – a thud and a nasty crack, and Neville lay facedown on the grass in a heap. His broomstick was still rising higher and higher and started to drift lazily toward the forbidden forest and out of sight.
Madam Hooch kissed her teeth, and Hadrian was furious. He ran over to his godbrother, who was crying in pain.
"What is the point of having a teacher, if you are just going to stand there doing nothing when one of your students gets hurt?" he hissed, eyes glowing vibrant green in his rage. The brooms started to shake, not that anybody noticed, having all dropped them in shock when Neville fell.
Madam Hooch's jaw tightened as she approached the pair of boys in the grass.
"That is no way to address a teacher, boy," she said before looking over Neville and hissing. "That wrist is broken; you need to go to the hospital wing."
"I will address you with respect when you have earned it," he spat, helping his godbrother stand. Daphne rushed to help when it became clear that Madam Hooch was just going to stand there fuming.
"And my name is Mr. Potter, not boy!" he glared as Hooch huffed out a breath of air angrily. She may be mad at the disrespect he was showing, but she had nothing compared to the rage that was boiling inside Hadrian at the carelessness she was showing for Neville. His friend. His godbrother.
His family.
Madam Hooch sneered at him before she turned to the rest of the class.
"None of you are 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." She turned to Neville and gestured for him to walk.
Neville, his face tear-streaked, clutching his wrist, turned to look at Hadrian, who nodded before he hobbled off with Madam Hooch, who had her arm around him.
"Daphne," Hadrian called out. She was at his side in an instant. "Make sure he gets to the hospital wing okay; I don't trust her as far as I could throw her." Daphne nodded before grabbing both of their bags. "I'll be by in a bit to check on him." She nodded again before running to catch up with her friend.
Hadrian turned back to the class, eyes still glowing in his rage, taking deep breaths in an attempt to calm himself. Theo and Blaise flanked him while Hermione stood in front of him, worriedly wringing her hands as she looked in the direction that Daphne had run off in.
No sooner were they out of earshot than Malfoy burst into laughter.
"Did you see his face, the great lump?"
Malfoy's faction of Slytherins joined in.
"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 what I found!" said Malfoy, snatching the object from the ground. "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 Hadrian 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?"
"Give it here!" Hadrian yelled, but Malfoy leaped onto his broomstick and took off. He hadn't been lying, he could fly well. Hovering level with the topmost branches of an oak, he called, "Come and get it, Potter!"
Hadrian grabbed his broom.
"No!" shouted Hermione. "Madam Hooch told us not to move – you'll get us all into trouble."
Hadrian ignored her. Blood was pounding in his ears. His magic was coiling about him like a snake about to strike. He mounted the broom and kicked hard against the ground, and up, up he soared; air rushed through his hair, and his robes whipped out behind him – and in a rush of fierce joy he realized he'd found something he could do without being taught – this was easy, this was wonderful. He pulled his broomstick up a little to take it even higher and heard screams and gasps from the girls back on the ground and admiring whoops from Ron Weasley and Blaise. Theo just tracked his form in the sky with cautious eyes.
He turned his broomstick sharply to face Malfoy in midair. Malfoy looked stunned.
"Give it here," Hadrian called, "or I'll knock you off that fucking broom!"
"Oh, yeah?" said Malfoy, trying to sneer, but looking worried.
Hadrian knew, somehow, what to do. He leaned forward and grasped the broom tightly in both hands, and it shot toward Malfoy like a javelin. Malfoy only just got out of the way in time; Hadrian made a sharp about-face and held the broom steady. A few people below were clapping.
"No Crabbe and Goyle up here to save your neck, Malfoy," Hadrian called icily. "It is just you," he smiles cruelly, "and me."
The same thought seemed to have struck Malfoy.
"Catch it if you can, then!" he shouted, sounding panicked, and he threw the glass ball high into the air and streaked back toward the ground.
Ron Weasley yelled out, "NO!" along with some of the other students, but Hadrian ignored them all, all of his focus on his godbrother's gift.
Hadrian saw, as though in slow motion, the ball rise up in the air and then start to fall. He leaned forward and pointed his broom handle down – next second he was gathering speed in a steep dive, racing the ball – wind whistled in his ears, mingled with the screams of people watching – he stretched out his hand – a foot from the ground he caught it, just in time to pull his broom straight, and he toppled gently onto the grass with the Remembrall clutched safely in his fist. Rising from his somersault, he heard a voice yell out his name.
"HADRIAN POTTER!"
Oh shit!
His heart sank faster than he'd just dived. Professor Snape was running toward them. He turned slowly to face the professor, hand tightly clutching the Remembrall.
"Never – in all my time at Hogwarts –"
Professor Snape was almost speechless with shock, and his eyes flashed furiously, "How dare you – might have broken your neck – you blasted boy -"
"It wasn't his fault, Professor –"
"Quiet, Mr. Zabini."
"But Malfoy –"
"That's enough, Mr. Weasley. Potter, follow me, now."
Hadrian gently tossed the Remembrall to Blaise and caught sight of Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle's triumphant faces as he left, walking numbly in Professor Snape's wake as he strode toward the castle. He was going to be expelled; he just knew it. He wanted to say something to defend himself, but there seemed to be something wrong with his voice, his fury and adrenaline preventing him from speaking, to say nothing of the fear pumping through him.
Professor Snape was sweeping along without even looking at him; he had to jog to keep up.
Over the last week, he and Snape had seemed to reach a tentative truce, where Hadrian acted politely when he interacted with him and Snape ignored him for the most part but treated him like any other student when he didn't. It seemed that this stunt had broken that truce.
Now he'd done it. He hadn't even lasted two weeks. That has to be some kind of record, Hadrian thought. He'd be packing his bags in ten minutes.
Hadrian quickly started planning. If he was expelled, he could return to the Tonks' house, they said he was always welcome there, or he could rent his room at the Silver Lantern Inn again, although probably not forever. Lippy would help him, she liked him enough to offer her assistance, of that he was sure.
They turned down a hall and Hadrian's eyes narrowed in suspicion. This wasn't the way to the headmaster's office. They stopped in front of the door to Professor Flitwick's classroom, and Snape gave two short raps on the door. He stepped inside and said something that Hadrian couldn't make out. The professor stepped out with another boy at his side, one Hadrian recognized and closed the door before leading the pair of boys to an empty classroom where he locked the door.
"Heir Potter," Flint said, tilting his head in greeting.
"Heir Flint," Hadrian greeted before looking at his potion's professor. "Am I getting expelled? Or a beating?" he adds looking at Marcus Flint wearily. He was a large and unpleasant-looking boy, he'd probably take great pleasure in pummeling Hadrian.
Snape sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "No, Mr. Potter. You are not – despite pulling the most foolish and dangerous stunt I have ever seen a first-year attempt in all of my years as a professor – being expelled. While I did say that I would give my own punishments in addition to whatever punishment a teacher gave, I have not ever, nor will I ever, physically punish a student with violence. I may make you prepare potion ingredients, or scrub cauldrons, or something equally unpleasant, but I will never raise a hand to you."
"Just a wand?" Hadrian asked skeptically, recalling the night in the hospital wing. Flint looked between the two with a raised brow, wondering what the hell the kid was talking about.
Snape sighed again. "That was to make certain that you got your health check-up, to guarantee your own safety. We have had muggle-borns that did not get their inoculations, and a simple magical sickness could have killed them. It was not with the intent to hurt you, but rather to make sure that you were protected in all of the ways that I could ensure as your Head of House."
"Oh," Hadrian said. That makes a lot of sense.
"Yes, Mr. Potter. Oh," Snape replied drily. "Now, Mr. Flint here is the captain of Slytherin's house quidditch team. I wanted to inform him that you are now the team's reserve seeker. Depending on how Mr. Higgs feels after a competition between the two of you, with it being his NEWTs year, he may choose to defer to being the reserve seeker."
"First years aren't allowed their own brooms, though," Flint spoke up for the first time, looking at Hadrian with an analyzing gaze as if assessing his skills based on his body alone.
"You will be getting a second broom, Mr. Flint, which you will generously be lending to your reserve seeker should he be required to fill in for Mr. Higgs on the day of any matches," Snape said. Flint grinned, showing off his large and rather crooked teeth.
"That is one way of getting around the rule, I suppose," Hadrian said quietly.
"I thought so," Snape replied.
Hadrian looked up at the professor with confusion written across his face. "I thought you weren't going to give me any preferential treatment?"
Snape looked down at him and raised a brow. "Rest assured, Mr. Potter, I would do this for any student who could fly like you just did. As much as I loathe to admit it, you have inherited your father's skill on a broomstick. It has nothing to do with you being the boy-who-lived and solely to do with your potential. Do you remember what I told you that first night?"
Hadrian's eyes lit up with understanding. "That Slytherins have a great sense of self-preservation, which sometimes meant doing something unsavory in the short term to guarantee a better future in the long term."
Snape nodded. "Precisely, Mr. Potter. This is due to your skill that I will be allowing this exception to be made, for the betterment of the house quidditch team and for the house cup. I have enjoyed having those trophies in my office, and I expect them to remain there at the end of the year." He gives Hadrian a pointed look. "You are not to tell anyone outside of the quidditch team that you are the new reserve seeker."
Flint nodded his head. "Good idea, professor. Keep him as a secret weapon."
Hadrian looked up at Snape with eyes that looked so much like Lily's and asked, "Could I please tell my friends in Slytherin, at least? They won't pass it around, but they are going to be very worried about me. I will have to tell them something, and I'd rather not lie to them."
"You are referring to Ms. Greengrass, Mr. Nott, and Mr. Zabini?" Hadrian nodded. "Very well, tell no others."
Flint grinned, rubbing his hands together excitedly. "Wood is never going to see this coming."
Despite the great news that Hadrian wasn't getting expelled but was rather forced onto the quidditch team, that good news was tempered by the fact that he had detentions with Snape every night for the next week.
"You may be a valuable asset to the team now, Mr. Potter," he said when Hadrian asked why he was being punished, "But you still disobeyed Madam Hooch when she ordered you to stay on the ground and instead did something that could have gotten yourself or someone else killed."
Hadrian rolled his eyes. "Going off of that logic, both Malfoy and Madam Hooch should be in detention alongside me then."
"Explain."
Sighing Hadrian began recounting his first flying lesson for the unhappy professor. "First, Neville accidentally pushed off too early, and when it was clear that he couldn't come down on his own, or safely, Madam Hooch just stood there and watched him fall and break his wrist. She then decided to take him to the hospital wing herself instead of sending him with a student, leaving the rest of the class unsupervised. I sent Daphne to go with Neville and bring their bags, but while I was arranging that, Malfoy stole Neville's Remembrall and decided to leave it up a tree." Hadrian scowled.
"I wasn't about to let Malfoy steal from my godbrother, so I chased Malfoy up into the air. He realized that he didn't have his bullies up there with him and decided that instead of handing my godbrother's possession over, he was going to launch it as hard as he could with the intent of either losing it or breaking it. You stormed out right when I caught it." Hadrian crossed his arms and looked up at the dour professor.
"As you can see," Hadrian continued, "Not only was Hooch incompetent both as an instructor, but also failed as a chaperone. Malfoy also broke the rules and did something stupid, all with the purpose of bullying my godbrother. I understand that Slytherins are to be a united front outside of the common room, but I won't stand for bullies, sir, and certainly not for bullies antagonizing my family."
Looking at the boy in front of him, it seemed to finally hit him. While Hadrian may look like James Potter, he didn't seem to be anything like him.
The professor smiled, if you could call the corners of his lips pulling back slightly a smile, and said, "You are correct. Mr. Malfoy will be joining you in detention, and I will be having a word with Madam Hooch. You are dismissed."
The first thing Hadrian did was run to the hospital wing to check on Neville.