“Can you believe they don’t have a single elevator in this place?” said Krysta indignantly as they climbed what seemed to be the hundred and fortieth staircase for the day.
“Yeah, boy,” said Random, who was wearing a red sweatband. “But ah suppose dem flyin’ staircases is like elevators, eh?”
Albus groaned. “Don’t talk about the flying staircases. The last one we went on had a vanishing step!”
To make matters worse, Peeves the Poltergeist had become artistically inclined and was so good at it that he regularly painted fake corridors on walls that were so realistic that people often walked into them. Therefore, it was very, very easy to get lost. The new Gryffindors did so frequently.
“Late, late, late!” admonished Professor Morley. “Okay, it’s your first class, but you can’t continue to do this! Transfiguration is a very demanding subject that requires your full attention. You’d be wise to attend every class and arrive on time. And any messing around will be rewarded by you being thrown out, never to come back. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, Professor Morley,” chanted the nervous first years.
He then smiled at them and turned all their books into fluffy rabbits.
“How exciting!” said Rose, “I’ve always wanted a rabbit.”
Professor Flitwick laughed when he heard what had happened. “Yes, way cool, but it’s gonna be eons till you learn something that hip. BTW, I’m Professor Flitwick, but you can call me Fil! Now, say ‘Yo Yo Yo!’ when I call your name!”
They shared Charms with the Ravenclaws, and Scorpius hurried to sit next to his friends. “What did he say? That we can’t turn our books into rabbits? Oh, just you wait; I’ll show you something at break.” He grinned and refused to say anything more.
“Oh!” exclaimed Rose. “Rabbits!”
In a corner of the grounds, Scorpius had shown them he could perform this trick.
“You’re a genius, Scorpius!” Rose hugged the rabbit.
“Now I need my books back, sorry Rose,” sneered Scorpius.
Rose was excited.
“What are you excited about, Rose?” asked Albus, wondering what Rose was excited about.
“We have Potions next!” gasped Rose, tears of glory and wonder streaming down her face. “Isn’t this what you’ve been waiting for your whole life?”
“Er… no,” said Paul, raising an eyebrow. Besides, it was kind of obvious they had potions next. The entire class was standing around in the dungeons.
“Hey… did you hear? We have Potions with the Hufflepuffs,” said Krysta. “I thought you said we’d be with the Slytherins.”
“Aha!” said Rose, suddenly transferring to the mystical voice which she only used for matters such as this. “But are you not aware that the main character must always have Potions with the archenemy? Henry has somehow managed to worm his way into Hufflepuff, and we must have Potions with him so that we may have regular confrontations.”
“Breds, who’s Henry?” asked Random.
“It is I,” said Henry Macmillan, stepping dramatically into the limelight.
Everyone gasped loudly. In unison. You know, like how they do in movies?
“So, Weasley, you do not even give me a chance? You have prejudged me? Called me terrible? I am immediately cast Potter’s archenemy?”
“Pretty much,” said Rose, unfazed.
Henry snarled in rage and whipped out his wand, prepared to use the most powerful Hex he knew (The Bad-Hair-Day Hex), when Professor Lyra Fernham stepped in on cue.
“My dears! What is going on here?” Professor Fernham said sweetly, tossing an orange caterpillar scarf over her shoulder. (Or was it a scarf? There were rumours that Hagrid was breeding huge, multicoloured caterpillars for this reason.) They could barely see her face under the bright fuchsia floppy hat she was wearing.
Henry stared at the teacher, looking as though he was going to puke. He was therefore temporarily disabled from speaking.
“Professor!” squealed Rose, her large eyes shining innocently, tears welling up behind the lids. “Professor! H-he tr-tried to… Professor, Henry tried, h-he tried to H-H-H-H-H-H-H-H-H-H-H-H-Hex me!”
She burst into tears.
“Is true, dreads!” said Random. “Fuh real!”
“Oh my! Don’t cry dear! Come on inside and tell me all about it…” said Professor Fernham kindly.
“But…” Henry began.
“Not a word out of you! You’ve been a terrible, naughty little boy, haven’t you? Now I want you to sit in the corner for the rest of the class and think about what you’ve done! And afterwards you’ll be going to the Headmistress’ office!” she said in a distraught, high-pitched voice.
“You know, I think Potions is going to be one of my favourite classes,” whispered Albus to Paul.
“Hmm… vastly engaging…” grinned Paul.
***
Throughout the week, a pearly white ghost, Sir Nicholas (fondly called Nearly Headless Nick), helped the Gryffindor first years to all their classes. By the end of the week, Rose and Albus had learnt to reach the Great Hall without getting lost. They had learnt much during that week, having met all their teachers: from the black-robed Astronomy teacher who they only saw on Wednesday nights and the bright Potions teacher, to the Defence against the Dark Arts teacher who shook Albus’s hand and said he knew Harry, and Professor Longbottom, who Albus nearly called Neville, before Neville said “shh!”
“Oh yeah, and Mum said to give you her love.”
The entire class burst out laughing, and Albus’s ears turned red.
That Friday, Albus, Rose and Scorpius went down to Hagrid’s hut. Albus knocked on the door, and was greeted by a loud, booming bark.
“Bach, Fang, Bach!” shouted Hagrid.
The dog began to howl to the tune of ‘Air on G String’.
“No, Fang!” Hagrid said. “BACK, Fang, not Bach!”
Albus, Rose, and Scorpius stared at the door.
“Hold on!” called Hagrid.
The door opened to reveal Hagrid’s hut.
“Oh, hallo there!” said Hagrid, “Come on in!”
When Albus, Rose and Scorpius were inside, Hagrid looked at Scorpius.
“An’ who’re you?” Hagrid sniffed, recognising a resemblance.
“I’m Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy,” sneered Scorpius, holding out his hand.
Hagrid shook it and opened his mouth as if to say something but then decided against it.
“So,” he said finally, “how was yer firs’ week?”
Albus launched into a description of the week, and then a question began to pester his mind, causing his scalp to itch terribly.
“Um, Hagrid…” Albus asked slowly. “Are you really breeding giant furry multicoloured caterpillars for Professor Fernham?”
“Ah,” said Hagrid.
Albus, Rose and Scorpius waited eagerly for the answer. And waited. And waited. As an afterthought, they waited some more.
“Um, Hagrid… aren’t you going to answer the question?” asked Rose.
Hagrid, who was frozen in his seat about to say something, shook his head. “Wha’?” he said.
“Um, Hagrid…” Albus asked slowly. “Are you really breeding giant furry multicoloured caterpillars for Professor Fernham?”
“Ah,” said Hagrid. “Tha’s stric’ly between me an’ Professor Fernham.” He puffed out his chest proudly. “Hogwarts business, yeh know.”
The next week, messages began popping up on the notice boards saying that the Gryffindors and the Ravenclaws would be beginning flying lessons on Thursday. Students became nervous, and they began trading tips and stories about broomstick flying to prepare. Albus had only ever flown once, and that… Albus didn’t want to think about it. Other students were telling tales about their days of flying and Albus wasn’t going to embarrass himself by recounting his only flying story.
“I remember when I was younger, me and my dad used to fly over hills and mountains,” said Krysta one day.
“Um… isn’t your dad a muggle?” asked Rose.
“Oh, well yeah…”
Scorpius prepared for the practices by building his own broom. It took him about a day.
“A whole day!” he sneered. “What a waste! I hope my broom works!”
Henry Macmillan had been talking loudly about his Firebolt 700, but people didn’t really believe him. They all thought that Albus knew how to fly, though. James was a Chaser for Gryffindor, and both Harry and Ginny were famous Quidditch players, but Albus wasn’t ready to use a broom after… the last time.
Finally, Thursday came. At breakfast, students were talking nervously about what they’d have to do. Albus was thinking back to the time he last used his toy broomstick and wondered whether his experience on it would help at all on a real broomstick. Scorpius sat by the Ravenclaw table talking loudly about his broomstick, and Rose was arguing with Krysta about the difference between aeroplanes and broomsticks. Then, suddenly, breakfast was over and the students were walking onto the Quidditch pitch.
Before Madam Hooch came onto the pitch, Henry Macmillan walked up to Albus, followed by two huge, muscular Hufflepuffs who looked as if they took steroids.
“Potter! These are my evil minions, Bob Smith“” he pointed at the more irritating looking one “-and Mooko Shackalacka-” he pointed at the larger one. “Fear them…”
“How come you’re here? This is a class for Gryffindors and Ravenclaws!”
“Ha!” scoffed Henry. “Don’t you know anything? Your archenemy always has to be there in your first Flying Lesson! Madam Hooch fixed it up! Idiot!”
“Yeah, Albus. It was rather obvious, you know,” said Rose reasonably.
Albus was about to retort, but then Madam Hooch came onto the pitch carrying a large bundle of brooms under her arm.
“Good morning, class,” she said, once she had laid out the brooms in front of the students. “Right, so choose a broom and we’ll begin.”
“Um, Miss,” drooled Scorpius. “I have a broom of my own.”
“Mr Malfoy? It is against the rules for a first year to have their own broom! I thought your father knew that!”
“I know, miss, but I was preparing for the flying lessons by building my own broom.”
“You built your own broom!?” Madam Hooch stared at Scorpius in shock. “How do you know it’s safe?! Pass it here!”
“Yes, Miss,” sighed/drawled Scorpius.
Madam Hooch took the broom from Scorpius and ran an expert eye over it. She felt the tail and the broom and nodded in a satisfied way.
“Excellent building. The Firebolt series, I’ve noticed, has a tendency to cause splinters and break apart after a while, but it seems you’ve fixed that problem.”
Albus knew very well about the Firebolt problem. That was why he was slightly afraid of flying “ it’s quite scary to be flying one second, and the next the broomstick isn’t even there…
Madam Hooch sat on the broomstick and kicked off. In ten seconds she was a blur, and the students couldn’t see her very well. Fifteen seconds later, Madam Hooch suddenly appeared in front of the class.
“Amazing,” she murmured. “Fifty laps in fifteen seconds, now that’s something!”
Suddenly, Madam Hooch was herself again.
“Brilliant broom, Malfoy,” she said briskly, handing back the broom, “Now, stand by your broomstick and hold your hand over it. Then, shout ‘up’!”
As soon as Albus had shouted “up”, the broomstick he had taken shot up with so much power that it hit his hand, broke, and still continued upwards. Some minutes later, the two halves of the broom crashed down to earth with tremendous force.
“Potter! Calm down!” barked Madam Hooch. “I know about what happened with your father’s broom, but there will be no disintegrating brooms in this school.”
Albus wasn’t listening. He was staring in horror at the snapped broomstick. What if he had been on it!?
Eventually, Albus got a broomstick that didn’t break, and now had it in his hand.
Madam Hooch looked around at the class.
“When I blow my whistle, you will mount your broom and raise a few feet, then shoot straight back down. Any deaths are not my fault.”
Albus stared at her. SHOOT straight back down!?
The class rose a few feet and came down again. Albus had risen the few feet, and then gripped onto his broom, his face pale. It wasn’t that he was afraid of heights; he was afraid of broomsticks...
Albus Severus Potter and the Thingamajig of Destiny by TrueMarauder
Chapter Notes: Summary: In which the first years go to their first lessons, and Albus has a flying lesson.
Disclaimer: as you know, I am not J.K. Rowling. Everything here is taken from her novels, and this is merely a fanfiction.
Chapter Endnotes: Sorry about the giant gap in posts. Computer crashed, and everything was on it. Thanks muchly to our Beta Reader, The Scribbler, for finding this chapter. Please review, and thanks to those of you who reviewed chapters 1 and 2.