Chapter 9: neville fucking dies
Thursday came along quickly enough, and at 3:30, Oleandra and the other Slytherins headed up from the dungeons to the open field in the Castle Grounds, where they were met with the Gryffindors and Professor Hooch, who was to be their flight instructor.
"Well, what are you all waiting for?" she barked. "Everyone, stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up."
Oleandra picked a broom at random, briefly inspecting it. Clearly, it had seen better days, and even in the days when it had been new, it must have looked like nothing more than a fallen tree branch.
"Stick out your right hand over your broom," called Madam Hooch at the front, "and say, 'Up!'"
Their instructions received, everyone shouted, "Up!"
Oleandra's broom obstinately refused to budge. After a few attempts, she gave up. After she made sure Madam Hooch wasn't looking, she hooked her foot under the broomstick and flipped into her hand. As the handle made contact with her skin, she activated the Raidhu rune drawn in permanent ink on her palm. The broom suddenly became responsive, much to her relief. She hadn't been sure if the broom's enchantments would be affected by the rune's magic.
She ignored Granger's outraged look and listened to Madam Hooch's next instructions with an air of innocence. She taught everyone how to properly mount the broom, correcting Malfoy's form in the process.
Ronald Weasley, meanwhile, was still trying to get his broom up, achieving partial success when it flipped upright and smacked him on the nose like a rake being stepped on.
"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. On my whistle—three—two—"
But before she had blown her whistle, or even reached one, for that matter, Neville Longbottom had rocketed off twenty feet into the air. The broom bucked, and he slipped off, hanging on for dear life.
Oleandra didn't want to see him break his neck on her first day riding a broom, so she shot off after him.
"Come back, the both of you!" Madam Hooch shouted, punctuating her words with angry whistles.
But before Oleandra had reached him, he had lost his grip and fallen off. She quickly dove and grabbed his hand, but it was so wet and clammy that it slipped right out!
Oleandra urged her broom straight down in a bid to catch up, but she was too late, Longbottom had landed on his arm with a sickening crunch.
Still heading downwards at dangerous speeds, Oleandra pulled out of her dive with a perfect recovery, astonishing Madam Hooch and everyone who knew even a little about Quidditch. These old brooms shouldn't have had the capacity to execute a perfect Wronski feint unless its rider had been a world-class athlete!
Madam Hooch swallowed her surprise and rushed to help Longbottom.
She looked relieved. "It's only a sprained wrist," she breathed.
She turned to face everyone.
"None of you is 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 shot one last look at Oleandra, before slinging an arm around the boy and leaving.
Malfoy waited a bit until the instructor was out of earshot, before exploding into laughter.
"Did you see his face, the great lump?"
All of the Slytherin laughed as well. Oleandra fought to keep the corners of her mouth from rising. The expression on his face had been a little funny, and it was only a sprained wrist.
"Rise above it, Oleandra," she told herself. "Nobles must behave gracefully, as befits their status."
Meanwhile, the situation was degrading rapidly.
"Shut up, Malfoy," snapped Parvati Patil.
"So much for the courage of Gryffindor," said Pansy Parkinson snidely. "Where were you when Longbottom was falling?"
This, of course, wasn't fair to the Gryffindors. Many of them had never flown a broom before, and those who had were completely blindsided. Oleandra had only done gone after Longbottom because she knew she would be safe no matter what, with the control afforded by Raidhu. She had been practically doing loop-de-loops with her bed (she would have actually tried if the ceiling in her room weren't so low), which was a great deal more unwieldy than a light piece of wood.
"Look!" said Malfoy, snatching a ball from the ground. "It's that stupid thing Longbottom's gran sent him."
He held up the Remembrall.
"Give that here, Malfoy," said Potter.
"I think I'll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find— how about— up a tree?" he said with an evil smile.
"Give it here!" Potter repeated more forcefully.
Malfoy flew up on his broom, taunting Potter from the air.
Oleandra looked as Potter took the bait and took to the skies.
"No!" shrieked Granger. "Madam Hooch told us not to move— you'll get us all into trouble."
Potter skillfully rode his broom in pursuit. They seemed to be talking about something, but Oleandra couldn't seem to quite hear what about. After a short exchange, Potter rushed at Malfoy, but he dodged and threw the Remembrall.
Oleandra couldn't quite believe what she saw next. If she hadn't known better, she would have thought he had carved Raidhu all over his broom! Potter dove after the Remembrall, and snatched it out of the air easily. Upon landing, he was greeted with a furious Professor McGonagall, followed with Professor Snape.
"Uh-oh," Oleandra thought. "I might be in trouble as well for that stunt earlier."
The Gryffindor students clamoured in support of Potter, but Professor McGonagall shut them down and took Potter with her. Similarly, Professor Snape also intimated that Oleandra follow him.
A strange atmosphere developed between Potter and Oleandra. It was clear that they were to be punished, so why not deliver the lecture now? Why were they taken away together, and with two Heads of the Houses?
After a long, tense walk, the strange group arrived outside a classroom.
Snape nodded to McGonagall, and she addressed the Professor teaching the class inside.
"Excuse me, Professor Flitwick, could I borrow Wood and Flint for a moment?"
"Wood? Flint!?" Oleandra thought in horror. "Am I going to be burned alive!?"
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