Daddy Dearest

Chapter 6 - A Natural Talent in Flying

Thursday, September 12, 1991

The only class the first year Gryffindors and Slytherins had together was Potions; that is, until a notice was posted in the common room, telling them that Flying Class began on Thursday, and that the Gryffindors and Slytherins would be together.

Madam Hooch, the Flying teacher, had short, feathered gray hair and golden eyes. She reminded Harry of a hawk.

"Welcome to your first Flying class," she said crisply as she joined the cluster of first years on the lawn. "Everyone get to a broom."

Harry went with the general hustle, trying to get one that wasn't to badly beaten up, while the others tried to just get to a broom.

"Put your right hand over the broom, and say 'up.'"

The first years did, and Harry's was one of the few brooms that leapt into his hand at once. He was pleased to see that the annoying little prejudice Slytherin, Draco Malfoy, had to try several times before getting his broom to obey, and he had to work hard to suppress his laughter when Ron's broom finally came up too vigorously and hit the Weasley boy in the face. Finally, everyone had a hold of their broom. They mounted, and Madam Hooch came around, checking their grips.

"No, Miss Patil, like this. Mr. Longbottom, you're hands should be like this. Mr. Malfoy, like this. "

"I've done it like this for years!" interjected Malfoy.

"Well, then, you've been doing it wrong for years." Madam Hooch moved on. "Mr. Snape... Perfect grip."

"Thank you, Madam Hooch."

"Miss Granger..."

When she'd finished with their grips, she instructed them to take off on her whistle, go up a few feet, and come back down. Neville, however, accidentally took off before the whistle blew, and shot up off the ground a good twenty feet.

"Come back here, boy!"

But he wasn't in control of his broom. Harry's eyes followed Neville for a moment, and then, without much thought, Harry quickly took off after him. He ignored Madam Hooch's shouts, concentrating heavily on flying the horrible school broom. He could see Neville slipping... but Harry managed to grab hold of Neville's broom in time to stop him from falling. Neville was white-faced and looked very much like he wanted to vomit, but he managed to steady himself.

"You all right?" Harry asked quietly.

Neville nodded weakly.

"Can you make it down on your own?"

Neville's eyes widened and he shook his head frantically.

"Okay... er..." He hadn't done this in a while... not since Lenora had learned how to fly. Before that, he hadn't done it quite as much as Sirius and Severus. "Don't move." He took a deep breath, then carefully aimed both brooms down. Neville screamed, clinging to his broom, but he didn't move, and Harry managed to get them down safely.

"Mr. Snape, what has gotten into you?" Madam Hooch asked irritably.

"He was going to fall!" Harry said defensively.

"You can't have known that, Mr. Snape! And then you took hold of his broom and went hurtling towards the ground, that certainly didn't help things!"

"I wasn't hurtling. And I know what someone looks like when they're about to fall, I helped teach my little sister to fly!"

Madam Hooch arched an eyebrow. " I was under the impression that she's only four years younger than you."

"It was really just at the end of it, but she fell off... once, I think. He just looked like he was going to fall off!"

Madam Hooch gave him an appraising look, then sighed. "I should have known you'd have your father's talent for flying. Well, Mr. Snape, there is no reason for you to remain in this class. You may go. I will inform Professor Dumbledore that you have been excused."

Harry stood there for a moment, stunned.

"Well, Mr. Snape, get! I have a class to teach!"

Harry turned and left the field, returning to the Gryffindor common room faster then he ever had, completely shocked.