OMG OMG OMG!!! It's MEEEEE. -cough- Er, sorry about the wait… first you see there was my goal of getting 100 reviews before updating… and then there were exams… and then summer came… and then I was busy… Well, here is chapter 8 of Lost in Between. Fortunately it was half written months ago!
Needless to say, the day inched along like a snail. To the four Gryffindors, it seemed to take even longer. It was difficult to act normal with the prospect of becoming an animagus hovering above their heads.
They suffered through the drone of professor Binns' lectures, and McGonagall's stern instruction. Potions was the worst though, as usual. Snape seemed to have turned his attentions on the older of the two Potter children. That of course, didn't mean that he stopped tormenting Silas, in fact, he seemed to loathe Silas more than he hated Harry, or Sirius even.
Finally, the bell rang, signaling the end of potions, freeing them from Snape's leering gaze.
Harry waded through the mass of students, making his way over to Hermione, Neville, and Ron.
"Hermione, what do we have next?" He asked, trying to get a look at the schedule. His eyes widened.
"It looks like…" Hermione paled as she read it, hand shaking slightly.
Ron looked at her curiously. "What?"
She swallowed, steadying her hands. "We have our first flying lesson," She said softly. Ron let out a whoop of joy, attracting a few stares. Harry winced.
"You know, you could be a little quieter."
"Sorry, Harry," He apologized, without really meaning it, "but flying it the best part of being a wizard." Hermione didn't look like she agreed with that statement.
As they headed out onto the lawn, they noticed that Hermione still wasn't quite convinced.
"Come on, 'Mione! It'll be fun!" Ron encouraged her, almost seeming to bounce as he walked.
Hermione didn't say anything for a moment, "I'm afraid of heights," She squeaked quietly.
Harry patted her on the back. "You'll be fine, just tell Madam Hooch. I'm sure she'll let you sit it out."
Hermione shook her head frantically, "No! I have to do this!"
Harry shrugged, and said no more on the subject.
"Now, step up next to your brooms!" Commanded the intimidating yet short woman, who was Madam Hooch. The class obeyed, and it was clear that many of them were just as excited to fly as Harry was. Harry had never truly had a chance to fly, seeing as his parents spent most of their money on giving Silas private lessons. They had been determined to get Silas on the team as soon as he hit second year.
Looking around, he saw that they were yet again having this class with the Slytherins, just like in most of their classes. Strange that.
Hermione was biting her nails in obvious fear, and he felt a wave of admiration for her. She was going to try, even if it scared her.
Neville looked worried, almost as if he were recalling some past event, ignorant to Ron's excited babbling next to him. Harry himself had to admit that he felt a bit nervous.
Silas, on the other hand, was boasting loudly at how he'd been flying since he was small. It was like someone was playing two broken records at the same time. Yes, two. Malfoy was also taking great efforts to out do the supposed Golden Boy.
Madam Hooch's whistle brought their attention back to her.
"Now, put your hand over the broom, and say 'Up!'" She commanded. Immediately, the class did so. Harry and a few others got it on their first try. Grinning proudly, he turned his head to see how his friends were doing. Neville, surprisingly enough, got the broom on its third try. Hermione and Ron didn't seem to be having as much luck though.
Hermione's fear of heights made her tone sound unconvincing, and all the broom did was rolls around on the ground from side to side. Brooms, like horses and dogs, seemed to be able to sense fear.
Ron's, on the other hand, refused to move, until finally Ron lost his temper. Upon one final 'Up, you chunk of firewood!' the broom's wooden end flew upwards, thwacking the unfortunate red head in the nose.
Five minutes later, the last few people had finally managed to get their brooms up off the ground.
"Now, I want you to grab your brooms firmly, and mount it. Then, when I blow my whistle, you are to push off gently from the ground, before leaning forward, and touching down once more. Got it?" Madam Hooch barked, walking back and forth between the two lines.
The students complied, but just as she was about to raise the whistle to her lips, Silas pushed off from the ground. Showing off, of course, he started flying above the group, ignoring Madam Hooch's furious demands that he come down. Suddenly, a rock came out of nowhere, and hit the broom's tail end. The force was enough to make the broom jerk dangerously. Silas, who had been smirking lazily, was thrown off.
There was a horrendous crack as Silas' body came in contact with the ground, seven feet from where his broom had been. Harry heard himself, along with the rest of the class, gasp in shock.
Madam Hooch swept into action. She knelt down beside the unconscious boy, and started prodding at him with her wand. She sighed, and stood up, barking orders once more.
"Miss Brown, help me carry him up to the hospital wind, and you lot-" She glared piercingly at the rest of the class, "keep your feet firmly on the ground, or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quidditch'!" With that, she strode away towards the front doors, Lavender Brown hurrying after her.
There was a shocked silence, no one daring to move. Then a very familiar snicker broke through the empty air.
"Looks like the Golden Boy isn't as great as they say he is. Look, he's even dropped his purse!" He smirked, holding up a leather shoulder pouch. The other Slytherins guffawed, while the Gryffindor's started to protest loudly. Harry on the other hand, was staring with wide eyes at the bag Malfoy was holing.
"Oh, crap," he whispered, and his friends looked at him curiously. "That," he jerked his head towards the bag, "has our grandfather's philosopher's stone."
The others stared at him, eyes wide.
"Philosopher's stone…?" Asked Neville, saying what the others clearly were dying to ask.
"Yeah, it can create the elixir of life… but why does Silas have it?" He wondered, before scowling harshly. "Oh yes, the same way he gets everything else. He stole it."
Hermione gasped. "Harry!" she scolded, sounding scandalized, "don't you think that's a little extreme?"
Harry shook his head. "Not at all. Dad once caught him playing with one of the family's heirlooms when he was seven. He's always pilfering things."
Their attention was drawn back to Malfoy, who had mounted his broom, and was flying circles above the group.
"Crap." Was all Harry said, before following the blond boy.
"Harry!" Neville warned, looking afraid, "You'll get yourself expelled!"
Harry ignored him, and rose up until he was at the same height as Malfoy.
"Oh look, the OTHER Potty is here," he taunted, "Come to defend your precious brother's honour?"
"Not at all, but I think you should give that back."
Malfoy's smirk only seemed to broaden a tiny bit. "I think I won't. But, if you want it so badly, why don't we play a game. How about I put it on the roof?"
Harry gritted his teeth, and leaned forward, shooting towards the Malfoy heir.
Malfoy's eyes widened at the sudden move, and he turned the broom as fast as he could, shooting away through the air. Harry gave chase instantly.
They played a game of aerial tag, Harry chasing, Malfoy dodging. The sneering boy eventually got tired of the foolishness, and stopped, Harry doing the same a few meters away.
"How about we try something else," he sneered, and chucked the bag as hard as he could.
Harry gritted his teeth and shot after it, intent on catching it before it hit the wall, where it would undoubtedly shatter.
He lay along the broom handle, streamlining himself, willing to go faster. Some god must have granted his wish, for he sped up, heading directly at the stone wall of the school. He wasn't paying attention though; instead staring up at the leather bag witch was hurtling towards him now. Reaching his hand up, he grasped the cord. He sighed in relief.
Suddenly he noticed the wall fast approaching, and his eyes widened in fear. Terror gripping him, he jerked at the broom handle, trying to stop it, or at least slow it down. It showed no signs of slowing, and he closed his eyes, preparing for impact. It never came.
Carefully, he opened one eye, and then the other. The broom had stopped mere centimeters away from the wall.
Harry took a deep breath of relief, and started to glide down to the ground. The entire class, except for the Slytherins (which actually made up half the class), ran to meet him. Hermione, Ron and Neville, were at the head of the pack.
Before anyone could say anything, a sharp voice rang through the air. "Mr. Potter!"
Dread filled him, and he turned to see Professor McGonagall striding towards him.
"Never – in all my time at Hogwarts-"
The stern woman was almost speechless with shock, and her glasses flashed furiously, "How dare you – might have broken your neck-"
The other instantly started defending him.
"It wasn't his fault, Professor-"
"Quiet, Miss Patil-"
"But Malfoy, he-"
"That's enough Mr. Weasley. Potter, follow me."
Harry nodded meekly, and followed. Glancing back, he felt a wave of fury wash through him as he saw Malfoy's triumphant smirk.
That git's no better than Silas, he snarled inwardly.
Professor McGonagall led Harry through the halls, not saying a word. The dread that sat in his chest grew every second that passed. Eventually, they came to a stop outside the Charms classroom, where Professor McGonagall knocked on the door. Not a moment later, the door swung open, and Professor Flitwick stood there looking up at them.
"Yes? How may I help you Professor?"
"May I borrow Wood?"
For one horrible second, Harry thought that Wood was some kind of bat or stick that she would use to beat him. His fears were quickly put to rest when a tall teen with short brown hair stepped out into the hall.
"Yes Professor? You wanted to see me?"
Professor McGonagall's demeanor changed from cold and terrifying to overflowing with pride and ill concealed excitement.
"I believe I have found you a seeker."
The teen's eyes widened and he looked Harry up and down, walking around behind him, inspecting him. "He's got the right build," he muttered, before glancing back up at Professor McGonagall.
"This is Oliver Wood, the captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team," she paused momentarily as she noticed Wood's questioning gaze. "Ah, sorry Mr. Wood, what is it?"
"It's nothing, I was just wondering how he is in the air."
Professor McGonagall pursed her lips, apparently annoyed. "Do you not trust my judgment?"
Oliver waved his hands defensively "Oh no Professor, nothing like that!"
The Professor nodded curtly. "Never, in all my time at Hogwarts have I seen such natural talent on a broom. He could give Charlie Weasley a run for his money."
Wood looked pensive for a moment. "Alright. You…" he paused, realizing that he hadn't yet been told the name of his future seeker.
"This is Mr. Harry Potter."
Harry glanced between the two of them, not quite understanding what the fleeting look of puzzlement that passed over the older boy's face. He passed it off as a trick of the light though.
"Alright, Potter, I expect to see you tomorrow night after dinner, just for a quick assessment to see how much you know. Then, in a week's time, we'll introduce you officially to the rest of the team."
Just then, the bell rang, and the students started to file out of the classrooms, heading towards the Great Hall.
'Oh yeah,' he recalled, 'it's lunch time now, isn't it?'
He waded through the mass of bodies, pushing his was towards the Gryffindor table. Not long after, Hermione, Neville and Ron pushed their way through the crowd to join him.
"Bloody hell mate, what was that all about? Were you expelled or something?" Ron demanded, blunt as ever. He was rewarded with and elbow in the ribs from Hermione.
"No, I wasn't expelled, amazingly enough. Here's what happened…" And he proceeded to explain the whole ordeal and conversation he had been present for. To say the least, his friends were speechless.
Someone must have pressed the fast forward button on the remote control of life. The rest of the day sped past in a flash, and soon night had fallen. Harry, Ron, and Neville were sitting up in their dorm, waiting for the other two people in their dorm to fall asleep before sneaking downstairs. Neville went first, followed by Harry, and then Ron bringing up the rear. They peeked around the corner of the stairwell, looking into the common room.
It was void of life, except for the figure of a bushy haired witch sitting with a book open in her lap. She was sitting cross legged on the carpet in front of the dying fire.
"Hermione!" Neville called in a whiper. The young witch looked up, and beckoned for them to come join her. They did, flopping down noiselessly onto the soft carpet.
"Hey, 'Mione, can I take a look at that spell?" Harry asked, pointing to the Anima Revelaire spell which was the page the book had been opened to. Hermione nodded wordlessly, and the black haired boy scanned the pages. His eyes widened. With this method, they would be able to start on the basics of the transformation by Christmas! Not like the other one which took years to discover one's form.
Ron cleared his throat impatiently, and Hermione rolled her eyes. "Alright, alright, I get it!" She hissed, snatching the book back from Harry. "It goes like this," She stated, taking out her wand. With a sharp jerk, she arced her wand through the air, and doing a slight twisting motion of her wrist, she pointed her wand at her chest, whispering the spell. There was a gentle glow which seemed to flow from her chest, sticking to the tip of the wand. Then, she quickly tapped it on the ground in front of her. The glow seemed to swirl and glow, before the form of small, white bird.
"I've been practicing ever since I found the spell. I couldn't see what it was clearly for a little while, but I think it's a dove." She mumbled, half to herself. The others nodded.
"Well, alright, I'll try next," Ron claimed, and Hermione proceeded to teach him the wand movements. Harry sighed. It looked like it was going to be a long night…
A/N: Ok, well, you have the right to yell at me... v.v although it would make this authoress very sad indeed! Oh yeah, one of my reviewers requested that I inform everyone that Chinchillas are NOT carnivores, are nocturnal, and are very delicate creatures. I would also like to say that if you DO plan on getting one, keep it warm, as they are NOT acclimated to all temperatures... I'm no expert, but I know for a fact that most of the stuff this little guy does is not normal, so don't rely on meeee!
Anyways, all you loyal readers who have suffered through my lack of writing, please read and review! No flames though, as I will only use them to roast marshmallows.
- Crimson Dragongem