And why? Harry wondered. Why wasn't the school doing something about this? Did they lack the funding to buy better brooms? Or was there some other reason he couldn't determine? Either way, something would have to be done. Children their age shouldn't be using such dangerous equipment.
The Slytherins were already outside, huddling together a ways off. Most of them seemed to be listening to Draco who told everyone that it was travesty that first years weren't allowed to bring a broom, and how much better their Quidditch team would be if he was allowed to join. Harry did notice that while many of the Slytherins were paying rapt attention to the boy, Blaise, Daphne and Tracey looked almost bored to tears.
The three were standing at the edge of the crowd, and while to the average eye it looked like they were paying attention to everything Draco said, he could easily see they were only pretending.
Blaise's expression looked the same as it always did, that being a general look of aloofness and distance. However, Harry could see the hard lines around his eyes. They made him look slightly strained, as if he was just barely resisting the urge to roll them.
Surprisingly enough Harry could not get a read on the pretty blond next to the dark-skinned pureblood. Daphne Greengrass' expression was, as always, colder than a winters night in Antarctica. And yet, while her expression remained the same, her stance betrayed her irritation. Her arms were crossed and she was putting more weight on her right leg than her left, which he had been able to notice through her thick school robes due to the way her figure tilted. The crossing of her arms, her distance, and the stance she assumed were often signs of someone who was annoyed.
Perhaps unsurprisingly, Tracey Davis was not masking her boredom at all. Everything from her stance to the annoyed look in her eyes to the way she was nearly scowling at Draco told Harry that she was not at all pleased with the blond boy's bragging.
This did not surprise Harry one bit. He knew that Tracey Davis was not a pureblood but a half-blood. Her father was a pureblood from a minor house, and her mother was a muggleborn that her father married shortly after they graduated from Hogwarts. Given that her father had gone against tradition and was considered the black sheep of his family, it would make sense that he had not taught his daughter much about pureblood traditions and social etiquette.
It made him wonder about just how she and Daphne had become friends in the first place.
His internal musings were interrupted by the arrival of their flight instructor.
Much like Professor McGonagall, Madam Rolanda Hooch looked like a woman you wouldn't want to cross lightly, if at all. Her gray hair was cut in short spikes that were swept about her face, like she had just come back from flying. Her eyes were a sharp, piercing yellow like those of a hawks, and her face held the kind of no nonsense look that he had seen on the Transfiguration teacher. She wore a white button-down collared shirt and a black necktie with the Hogwarts crest under her cloak.
"Alright everyone!" Madam Hooch shouted over the talking students. Almost immediately everyone quieted down. "Don't just stand around! Line up next to the broom so we can get started!"
Well, the woman certainly wasn't one for eloquent words and long-winded speeches like, that's for sure. That suited Harry just fine. He and Neville followed the instructor's advice and lined up next to a broom.
"Now, I want you all to stick out your right hand above your broom and say 'up!'"
"Up!" everyone shouted at once.
Harry's broom immediately flew into his hand, but he noticed that his was one of the only ones to have done so. Malfoy had gotten his to shoot up as well, showing that while he may be a braggart he was not just puffing hot air. Tracey's had also flown into her hands the moment she had spoken. Along with her, Blaise had managed get his up after a couple of tries and Daphne followed soon after.
On the Gryffindor side of things, it looked like Harry was the only person who had gotten his broom to respond. Seamus Finnigan's broom had jumped into the air a few inches of the ground, then fell back down. It took him several tries to get it into his hand. Hermione Granger's had rolled over a couple of times, but not much else. And Neville's hadn't done anything at all.
"You need to be more commanding," Harry said to Neville as the Longbottom heir tried to unsuccessfully call his broom to his hand again. "In many ways brooms are a lot like horses. They can sense your fear and desire not to ride them. You need take a more commanding stance. Don't just say 'up' and expect it to respond. You have to mean it, you need to want the broom in your hand."
The Longbottom heir looked at him for several seconds, before taking a deep breath and giving it another try.
"Up!" He commanded, his voice much louder and without the quaver it held earlier. This time the broom did shoot up into Neville's hand. Unfortunately, Neville had been so unprepared for it that the broom had smacked off his hand and almost fell back to the ground had Harry's own hand not shot out and caught it.
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