Chapter 8. Saturday

Flying on broomsticks

The morning turned out to be chilly, with sharply nasty weather in the form of strong winds and a continuous veil of thick gray clouds in the sky. Sunlight, if it was present somewhere nearby, was skillfully hidden from us behind this cloudy reality.

The eventful days at Hogwarts flew by faster and faster. It would seem that not long ago I was sitting with a sorting hat on my head, but almost a week has already passed.

Saturday. A day of additional classes. And on this day off, by the way, we - sleepy and exhausted by a series of endless lessons, immediately after breakfast we went to a flying lesson on a broomstick. Well, such vile weather only intensified our feelings and sensations, without adding at least a little bit of joy to anyone.

In our hands we carried the very brooms on which we would "soar in the sky."

The lesson was supposed to take place not somewhere, but, for a second, on the Quidditch field! A large oval stadium with rectangular towers-stands was supposed to make a grand impression on us. But when leaving the castle, he could be seen from afar, and it turned out to be at least half a mile away.

— Do not dare anyone to take off! You haven't passed the first lesson yet, and you're already trying to kill yourself with gravity? Everyone go on foot!

Madame Trick. She accompanied us straight to her lesson, you could say she led us by the hand. An unpleasant person: too masculine, too harsh, and even her voice is nasty. A pretty bad teacher by standard standards. Above average by Hogwarts standards.

— Madam Trick, and if I can handle a broom, can I fly to the stadium? Young Nott asked ingratiatingly, clutching the broom to his chest.

— That's when you get through a year of my lessons, then you can talk about your skills. Until then, don't even think about getting off the ground without a command! I repeat, until we reach the stadium, it concerns all of you!

And why not work out on one of the many lawns nearby, or in the same courtyard? Why go to the stadium!?

— For what reason is she yelling so disgustingly? Seamus whispered in my ear, "I'm willing to give ten points for earplugs."

— Adults always yell at children to assert themselves, — I replied quietly to a friend, — they seem to themselves very cool and significant at these moments.

Seamus chuckled, and we walked on.

All the way, different interests were fighting in me: I wanted to look at the stadium, but at the same time I wanted to hide from the weather in some warm room; I was going to try to fly on a broomstick, but I was reasonably worried about the safety of this event.

A significant factor in my dissatisfaction was the distance from Hogwarts. One of the students will break a bunch of fragile bones in a fall. Who will carry him to the castle? And for how long? No, it would be just wonderful if, in case of injury, Madame Trick would take the poor guy to the hospital wing, having traveled such a long distance on a broomstick. But I doubt very much about such altruism on the part of the teacher. And the students... Is it even possible for an eleven-year-old to transport a similar carcass while holding it on a broom? I don't think that's even possible, certainly not in our position.

However, she did not ask for my opinion, and, apparently, did not need it. We walked, walked, froze, walked again, and finally arrived at the Quidditch field. There were passageways around its walls - almost all of them led to certain stands at the top, and one in the center was the entrance to the players' locker room. We passed through it, finding ourselves on a flat green field inside the oval walls. At least the wind didn't bother us so much here, and that was at least a plus.

— Line up! Opposite each other, put the brooms on the ground to your right! I said on the right! You don't know where the right is!? Then be ready to crash into one of the stands at the first opportunity!

After a couple of minutes and a series of screams from the teacher, we finally took the required position.

— Really, you did it. So, do not waste time, raise your right hand over the broom, focus and say: "Up." Loudly, clearly, we think about the broom and mentally repeat the order to it.

— And if I'm left-handed? Finch-Flatley asked.

— Then you become right-handed for this lesson and for the rest of your life. Get to work!

— Up! The words of the students began to be heard from all sides.

"Up," I said to my broom, and it moved a little. I concentrated harder, — Up! — Voila! The broom jumped absolutely horizontally, and I just had to squeeze the outstretched palm in time.

— Those who do not comply with the order will not fly. If the broom does not obey you on earth, then it will ruin you in the sky. The rest of you, slide the handle between your legs, and wrap your arms around the shaft four inches from the end of the broom. When taking off, the broom must be squeezed with the calf muscles and slightly push off the ground.

The students started saddling magic brooms, and some of these cases were quite funny.

— So, where are you holding on to the edges, I told you, four inches from the end! And why are you holding a broom like that? Are you going to fly deeper into the ground? The broom handle should look in a certain direction, depending on whether you are going to climb up, descend or be at a certain height!

Madame Trick gave commands, swore, and blamed the stupidity of some students... In general, I felt like a fish in water.

Some of the freshmen did not manage to summon a broom to their own hand.

— So, the three of you, stand there and keep trying until you succeed! The rest of you, take off two or three feet up, and let's go!

I did as she said and pushed off the ground. My legs lost their support, and I soared into the air!

— Fine, press your hands on the broom, while continuing to keep a horizontal position. This way she will understand that she needs to fly forward. Do not squeeze too hard, otherwise you will take too high a speed. You can throw it off with your feet: cross your feet diagonally under the broom, and with a slight heel strike on the toe, the speed will decrease.

— And what is a tuleyka? — there was a question from one of the students.

— The part between the handle and the rods. That's it, now we fly around the field, master the controls, get used to our actions in flight. We do not increase the height, we are no higher than seven feet from the ground!

The freshmen actively practiced flying, were mesmerized by the broom and enthusiastically shared their successes.

— Kyle, look! — happy Harry Potter showed me how easy and simple it is for him to control a broom. He calmly changed the direction and speed of flight, and at the same time felt so at ease, as if he had been doing this all his life. Nothing surprising - just a talent.

Some freshmen from an overabundance of emotions decided to show off in front of their friends. Someone tried to fly in a wavy line, then descending, and then rising higher, some developed great speed, and Harry managed to fly above the boundary height from an overabundance of his own coolness in flying skills. He was so happy that he didn't even notice it.

— Look out! I shouted to the boy when a round blue-black ball was approaching him from somewhere in the stands at high speed, "On the left, it's flying!

Harry managed to dodge, and the enchanted ball went into a U-turn, making a large arc in the air.

—Huh, it wasn't that hard," Harry smiled, —thanks, Kyle!

— I see, for you, Mr. Potter, are there rules to break? Well, in that case, Madame Trick took her wand and threw one of the spells at the bludger flying from above.

The ball abruptly changed its behavior. If before that he had not descended below a certain altitude mark, now he obviously had such an opportunity, flying to the nearest target from below in the form of a student.

— I will personally impose a special punishment on all those who leave the stadium before the end of the lesson. And believe me, you won't like it," with these words, Madame Trick sat down on her broom, and flew somewhere outside the Quidditch field.

The bludger raced around the stadium in a frenzied rhythm, trying to hit the gawking students. The children scattered, because as soon as he hit one freshman, knocking the spirit out of him, the target immediately switched to the next "lucky guy" who was standing or flying closest.

A kind of tag with an enchanted ball began. It was fraught to be in one place, so we all tried to maneuver around the stadium at the limit of our abilities, watching the flight of the bludger and trying to keep the maximum distance from it.

The mad ball also had a positive charm: if he knocked someone to the ground, then later he did not try to finish off the poor guy completely. However, he reacted even to students on foot, so absolutely everyone was in danger.

Whoosh! Malfoy flew by me, and the ball was rushing after him, not inferior to the boy in speed. Draco made a rather spectacular feint with a sharp upward change of course, and the bludger flew past only to chase Hermione the next second.

As a result, he still caught up with the frightened girl, and knocked her off the broom. She didn't look badly hurt, but continued to lie on the green grass to avoid a repeat chase.

Maybe if we all lay down the way she does, Bludger will finally calm down? There will be no goals.

However, I did not have time to voice this thought to the others. The ball chased Harry Potter again, and Harry Potter dodged him on instinct alone without any problems. I admired my friend's skillful aerobatics for a second and did not immediately realize where this damn bludger was flying now.

The last thing I saw was a round ball rapidly increasing in size in front of my eyes. And the darkness...

Household magic

"Maybe you should go to the hospital wing after all." Hermione asked me worriedly, "there's a bump."

"Are you feeling all right yourself?" I asked the girl.

— My ribs hurt a little, but nothing is broken, so I'll be patient.

"No, guys, I also hit my head on that magic story," Ron spoke up, "and Madam Pomfrey turned me around, said it would go away on its own.

"Well, you see, Hermione, that means I can handle it too.

My head was a little dizzy and sore, but I didn't seem to have a concussion. We hurriedly returned to Hogwarts, trying to catch a new lesson.

— Kyle, Hermione, it's all because of me, I'm sorry, - a sad Harry apologized to us, — if I hadn't broken Madame Trick's rules, none of this would have happened.

Of the Gryffindors, only we suffered, but also in other faculties, some children managed to get acquainted with the frenzy of the enchanted bludger.

— How do you know!? Ron exclaimed, "she was obviously going to do this in advance, you just gave her an extra reason.

—Ron's right, Harry," I put my hand on his shoulder, "don't go limp, you think you got hit on the head. A regular lesson at Hogwarts, really.

He smiled timidly and nodded at me in appreciation of my words.

— Are we sure we're in time for class? Neville asked us, a little nervous.

He had successfully regrown the skin that had been injured during potion making, but now a small strip on his cheek in the form of a kind of scar was visible on the boy's face.

—We'll make it," Seamus said optimistically, and right after his words, another bell rang, "or no...

The freshmen looked at each other with fear in their eyes. The lesson has already begun, and they are just approaching the castle!

— Run! To the second floor! I shouted, and we all rushed forward with our children's armada, "we also need to put the brooms in that closet on the way...

My every quick movement was accompanied by a throbbing pain in the protruding lump. However, the fear of consequences for being late spurred me on, not allowing me to slow down for a second.

When most of our crowd reached the required office, the sounds of multiple shortness of breath were heard in the corridor. The slowest ones kept arriving, clumsily running up to us, holding onto their own bellies and chests.

— Maybe... Huh, there's no teacher yet, and everything will be fine? Ron asked breathlessly.

— I wouldn't hope for that... I replied, turning the door handle.

Like some kind of spy, I looked through a small crack in the doorway. From my perspective, the classroom seemed empty.

— Although, maybe you're right, — I turned to the comrades waiting behind, — no one is in sight, we're coming in.

The very first one, I took a step into the room.

—Hello, young people," a melodious female voice rang out from my left.

I jumped up, turned around sharply and was stunned. A young teacher of household magic looked at me expectantly.

She was very beautiful, wore bicycle glasses like Harry Potter, and had long blond hair tied in a ponytail.

— Z...Hello," I replied, hesitating.

I feel like a schoolboy who fell for a teacher at first sight. Oh, yeah...

— Don't stand in the aisle, you've already lost enough study time, — she pointed to the empty desks with her tiny palm, — please.

I cautiously went into the office and sat down on the first desk. The rest of the students followed me, timidly greeting the teacher.

— There is no need to be so afraid, I perfectly understand your reasons for being late, since I myself had the opportunity to learn flying from Madame Trick. There will be no punishment, although I wish you to be faster in the future. Agreed?

The students responded positively. Someone breathed out a sigh of relief, and I sat and smiled stupidly at such a charming girl's voice.

— Well, let's finally get to know each other. My name is Miss Charity Burbage, but I prefer when students address me by my first name: "Miss Charity". All this year, on Saturdays, I will teach you household magic. Now, I want you to take turns getting up, calling yourself, so that I can get to know you directly, without these dry letters in the magazine. Let's start with you, girl," she pointed to the Slytherin Milicent Bulstrode sitting in front of her.

The children stood up and called their name. If the teacher didn't say anything, they sat back down, passing the baton to the next student. Sometimes Miss Charity would insert various comments:

— ...I was in the same class as your uncle, Mr. Goyle, a most unpleasant man, I must say.

— ...Puff? It's nice to know that a descendant of one of the founders of Hogwarts is studying at the school. It's a rarity nowadays.

— ...What's that on your forehead, Mr. Golden?

I automatically touched my bulging bump:

"Bludger wanted to meet me, Miss Charity. I couldn't refuse him.

The class laughed, and even the teacher smiled at my ugly joke.

— Well, I propose to correct the result of your acquaintance. Lift your head up," Miss Charity took out a magic wand, came close to me and put it to the bump, —Viavi Epanaferum!

I don't know what happened to my bruise there. All my attention was focused on the stunning bust painting of Miss Charity. Am I going through puberty? At eleven!?

—Well, that's all," replied the sorceress, who had moved away from me.

I touched my forehead- the lump was completely gone. I don't know if she saw where the healed student's gaze was directed, but it seemed to me that Miss Charity smiled at me cunningly for a few more seconds before moving on to the next acquaintance with another student.

"So we got to know each other," the teacher said when the last of the children introduced himself, "I'll try to remember all of you, even if it won't be easy at first. So, as I said, we will be going through everyday magic, namely, learning and practicing spells that will be useful to you in everyday life throughout your life. Every week, the passable spells will change, so I do not recommend skipping my classes, unless, of course, you want to find and memorize the basic spells yourself, so as not to become a laughing stock in front of others. And in this introductory lesson, I will teach you the most necessary spell for the duration of your studies at Hogwarts. Does anyone have any idea which one? Ten points to the one who answers correctly.

The students' hands went up, and I raised mine myself even before I came up with the most likely answer. The influence of a pretty teacher, no other way.

— What activity, commendable, very commendable. Come on, Mr. Finigan. Your version?

"A warming spell, Miss Charity. It is cold in many places in the castle, and in winter it will probably be even worse.

— Oh, yes, you are absolutely right about the cold - it is a real scourge for students. Two points for such a close answer, but no, alas, these are not the most necessary charms. Mr. Booth?" the teacher pointed at the other boy, and Seamus, not a bit upset, sat back down in his seat.

"Maybe a time—telling charm?" Terry suggested, a little self—consciously, to know exactly when the lesson or meal would start.

— A good version. Such charms would be useful to you today, eh? — Miss Charity chuckled, — but, firstly, there are certain difficulties with such spells, and secondly, even without these charms, you can live at school, guided by the bell. Miss Greengrass?

— I think that this is a purification spell, so as not to go dirty and unkempt, like some, — the local ulcer glanced fleetingly at the boys from other faculties, causing them to sound indignant and protest at such slander.

— Again, I agree with the benefits of such charms. Especially for girls. Cleanliness in the castle, as you already know, is not so easy to observe, especially at first," Miss Charity whispered, as if sharing some secret. To this, all the girls actively nodded and agreed, "two points, Miss Greengrass, but there are charms even more important than all that you have just listed. Does anyone else have any suggestions?

Somehow abstracting from the hormones, I turned on the healed head at full power. What is the most important spell? If we had known which one, this school week would have been much easier. Everything related to food disappears, the rules of Transfiguration limit this. With a bedroom? Enchant things with softness for a comfortable sleep? No, Miss Charity says that the charms will remain useful for the entire period of study, and in future courses, students will already get beds. Ironing charms? No, the purification spell looks more useful, so it's not related to these directions. Food, sleep- what else are the problems here? Safety! But defensive and attacking spells will probably be studied in combat magic, and the enchantment of things from Flitwick. What kind of household charms can exist that will improve the safety of students? But what if...

— Alas, no one guessed the correct answer, although you, Miss Granger, were close to the idea of healing wounds. It's just that it's too advanced magic for a first year. If there are no more options... I raised my hand again, even though I had let it go before, when other students voiced my assumptions, —Mr. Golden? Come on, last chance. Which, in your opinion, simple charms are the most necessary for the entire duration of training?

I got up from my seat, even though I wasn't sure what to say. Hermione was close to the right answer with her healing, which means it's something similar, but simpler... First aid? Painkillers? Stopping the bleeding? This is more likely to be true than anything else.

—A spell to stop the bleeding, Miss Charity.

From her happy smile in response, I was ready to jump like a little boy who kissed a girl for the first time.

— And this is absolutely correct! Well-deserved ten points, Mr. Golden. No wonder, it turns out, we removed this ugly bump, since you could still guess. Stopping external bleeding. Or, more specifically, the enchantment of a film that is applied to an open wound, preventing your blood from leaving the body. I think you have already experienced many of the delights of studying at Hogwarts and some of you have definitely managed to try this state on yourself. Are there any?

The children's eyes converged in unison on Sophie and Roger, who were injured in the very first lesson at McGonagall's.

— I see that there is. So, remember once and for all: almost any wounds can be healed, bones can be set or new ones can be grown, bruises can be resolved. But if you lose too much blood before helping, you will die, and then only experienced necromancers will be able to revive your body, even for a short time. In order for you to get to the hospital wing in case of serious damage, we will memorize the spell of the film - "Savanoema".

Throughout the first lesson, we studied the correct pronunciation of the spell, as well as the correct wave of the wand, which had to draw a kind of three-leaf clover in the air for the spell to work. Miss Charity carefully monitored our progress: corrected flaws and inaccuracies, pointed out mistakes, praised us for the right actions.

— You will definitely need to repeat the pronunciation and wave yourself for a week to consolidate the result. Well, now it's practice time. Without it, in case of real need, you will not succeed the first time, so practice is the key to success in mastering any charms, keep this in mind. I need a volunteer who will get ten points at the end of the lesson. Anyone interested? That's fine, Mr. Golden, come here.

The teacher's voice was like some kind of hypnosis - I listened to him, I was ready to follow all his commands, but because of this I was slow to think. Does Miss Charity need a volunteer? I'm ready! What will they do to me? How do I know, and does it matter?

— Now each of you will try to perform a spell to stop Mr. Golden's bleeding. Myomenos Diffindo! — the professor pronounced a cutting spell, striking my palm with a wand. The sharp pain sobered my mind.

It was definitely some kind of spell. I'm not the age to drool over beautiful teachers. The body is still too small, and the consciousness is too mature for such a thing.

Some form of confudus? No, I figured out the right answer, but I began to think worse a little later. Some kind of magical aphrodisiac? Then the rest of the students should feel the same way, and I didn't notice that. Or did it only work for me? Because of my consciousness, what stimulates accelerated puberty? The theory is far-fetched, and it may even be something else, because I know almost nothing about such methods. What if it's all because of the treatment of my bruise on my forehead? Although, here's the blunder - I just walked in and saw Miss Charity, and already I was almost drooling over her. Okay, for lack of other theories, let's take the attraction spell on the teacher as the most likely one. And I wonder if she realized that I am much more mature than I seem at first glance? I didn't notice any signs of surprise from the teacher...

While I was frantically thinking through the possible reasons for this sudden infatuation, I was being used as a guinea pig. With a bleeding wound on my palm, I, along with Miss Charity, walked between the desks with the students. Some people got the film on the first try, and some had to try two or three times. When the result was achieved, the teacher removed the enchantment, and my native blood again trickled out of the wounded arm. And there was nothing I could do about it-I volunteered myself. So I endured it.

It's good that at least there were no jokes or deliberate slowness of my classmates - I managed to help many people in some way this week: I provided some with the necessary information about points, helped others save Hannah Abbott. I don't say anything about my faculty at all - the guys tried to master the spell as quickly as possible in order to shorten the period of my torment at least a little.

Even such a kind, young and responsive teacher as Charity Burbage found herself with her cockroaches in her head. And I'm not even talking about wounding my hand - they'll give me points for it, and it's a voluntary matter. If I hadn't volunteered, then someone else would have agreed. I mean, this suspicious attraction, which dulled even my heightened powers of observation, although bludger would not agree with this statement.

Combat Magic

The cut on my palm was successfully cured by Miss Charity after the end of the practical part of the lesson, and my piggy bank was replenished with additional points.

At lunch, a general discussion of the first-year students of the Gryffindor faculty decided to assign household magic an honorable second place in the ranking of favorite lessons. Of course, I didn't tell the others about my attraction effect. They are still small, and it can be a dangerous thing to share this kind of information.

After the meal, we had only a double lesson in combat magic, after which the first school week can be considered valor over. Even if not everyone had this same valor, and not everywhere.

This was the second lesson that was held in the dungeons, and in the farthest part of it, where we had never reached before.

The lesson was taught by Kingsley Breastwork, a middle-aged black teacher with a short Afro hairstyle and a brutal beard.

— For a magician in the heat of battle, many things are important, but the most basic is dexterity, reaction and endurance, - the first thing Mr. Breastwork said when he met us in the dark corridor in front of the entrance to the training room, — We will master the first two points here, — he pointed with his hand at the closed door, — and endurance will be pull up every other Saturday, outdoors. Has everyone arrived? Great. I have no desire to list everyone by name. If you show yourself in action, then we'll get to know each other. We go into the hall.

The brutal wizard entered first, followed by a trickle of freshmen. Already from the corridor in the hall, some kind of clanging, creaking and rumbling could be heard. In the room itself, it only intensified, but none of the students could see what was making all these sounds.

Mr. Breastwork cast a spell, and round fireflies separated from his wand, which drifted through the air and settled in the lamps on the wall. And then we finally saw the device that was making this noise.

The hall was very wide, but it was very short in length. The first half of the room was empty - except for the stone tile floor there was nothing there. But here's the second one...

It was a real obstacle course. There was an entrance on the left, an exit on the right, and a barely noticeable magical barrier between her and the rest of the hall. The strip itself was simply flooded with various dangers: there were swinging pendulums, and spinning strips of blades that changed their position, and square tiles flashing in different colors, and stakes protruding from under the floor - whatever it was!

— The base strip for improving dexterity and reaction, — the Breastwork smiled smugly, looking at our amazed faces, — three difficulty modes, more than twenty static obstacles and a couple of hidden ones that appear randomly. The scoring time is three minutes. By the end of the year, each of you should be able to complete it in that time, or die in the process of achieving it. Because a good magician is nimble, and a clumsy magician is dead. Keep that in mind.

He said the baseline. Is there any more advanced!?

—Sir, let me ask you a question," Stefan Kornfoot said suddenly.

— Well, go ahead and ask.

"Aren't we going to learn spells in combat magic?"

— Forget about spells until the third year. If you pass my school, then Moody will take care of them with you. You'll still have time, haha, to hate them. Well, which one of you brats is ready to be the first to familiarize yourself with the base obstacle course?

Obviously, no one was eager. I'm even more so - I have an unhappy day today, and the previous two lessons were enough with my head!

— Again, then, without daredevils. Even you Gryffindors? Come on, no timer, no need to go through to the end. A simple introduction. Make up your mind, or will you stand like idols and shame the faculty with your cowardice?

— I'll try, — the provocation was a success, because Harry Potter stepped forward, and even the fire in his eyes was observed. Oh, no, it's just a glare from one of the lamps.

— That's the attitude! Well, come in from over there, take a look around and move forward. And know that for the sluggish, there is a stimulating trap at the beginning. If you pass at least a quarter, you will get five points. I'll give you all twenty for half. Well, if you pull off the streak the first time, then fifty points and the credit this year are yours. The rest can watch closer, but not a foot behind the barrier!

The reward was very tempting, and Harry even cheered up a little as he walked to the entrance to the strip. And when the first pendulum whistled in front of his nose, all this spirit disappeared somewhere in a hurry.

— Come on, Harry! You can do it! Ron shouted, encouraging his friend. The others were too excited to shout something like that, and it seemed a little inappropriate to me at all, although Harry might be helped by such support - who knows.

There were as many as three pendulums in a row, with a small gap between them, and each of them swung with a certain static interval - from the slowest to the fastest, between the strokes of which less than two seconds passed. Harry passed the first one, skipped the second and almost lost half of his face in front of the third, only miraculously managing to move his head a moment before the blade swung.

I wonder if things had gone differently now, would Potteriana have lost her main character?

— Mr. Breastwork, may I ask you a question? I said to the teacher, who was looking at Potter's careful movements with a smile on his face and even a kind of nostalgia.

— Ask me.

— And how often do deaths occur on the strip? The freshmen fell silent, waiting for the teacher's answer.

— Many people died in the early versions... Now everything is different - those stripes were considered too dangerous, — I think I first heard the term "too dangerous" in this school, — So now a cunning spell is involved here - you run into some kind of trap, and instead of cutting you in half, it will forcefully throw you over the barrier. Yes, it hurts, yes, it's unpleasant, you'll break a couple of bones, but you'll probably survive, haha. That's about it," said the Parapet, and at that moment a spear flew out of the wall on the strip, hitting Harry, who did not have time to react, right in the side.

At one point, it seemed to me that he was pierced through, but the spell worked, and Harry flew straight towards us. He landed on the rocks, turned over several times by inertia, and eventually remained lying, holding his stomach with his hand and making soft moans.

—Two points for bravery, Potter. You're a Weasley, aren't you, screamer? Well, take your friend to the hospital wing and come back. So who's going to try the strip on themselves next? The conditions are the same. If there is no one willing, so I will choose myself - there are so many of you here, all two lessons will be something to see, haha.

My gut told me that Binns' record for the number of students sent to the hospital wing per lesson would be broken today. However, he is not the only one.