HP When Harry is a Genius

On this day, Harry found a notice posted in the Gryffindor common room, and Ron kept sighing after reading it.

Flying lessons start on Thursday - the Gryffindors will join the Slytherins in flying lessons.

"Too bad luck," said Ron despondently, "as I expected, to make a fool of myself in front of Malfoy on a broomstick!"

He had longed to learn to fly, more than anything else.But the thought of being with Slytherin made his anticipation of flying lessons lessened.

"I don't know if you'll make a fool of yourself," Harry said rationally. "I know Draco always brags about how good he is at Quidditch, but I guess he's just talking big."

Draco talked about flying all day long.He complained loudly that first-years were ineligible for the house Quidditch team, and he told long, boastful stories that always ended with him narrowly dodging a Muggle helicopter.

It was a shame that he knew anything about Muggle helicopters.

However, Draco was not alone in making such big claims.From the tone of Seamus Finnigan's voice, it seemed that he spent most of his childhood flying around the fields on a broomstick.

Even Ron, if anyone would listen, would tell of the time when he almost ran into a hang glider on Charlie's battered broom.

Well, Ron also knows the "advanced" things like hang gliders.

Everyone from the wizarding family babbled about Quidditch.

Ron had already had a big fight with his roommate Dean Thomas over a football game.Ron didn't understand that there was only one ball in the field and no one was allowed to fly. What's so exciting about this kind of game.

Harry caught sight of Ron poking his hand around Dean's West Ham football team poster, trying to get the players to move.

Neville had never ridden a broomstick in his life, because his grandmother, the strong Lady Augusta Longbottom who had raised her grandson alone, would never let him near a broomstick.

Harry secretly felt that the old lady Augusta was very reasonable, because Neville could always cause accidents after all, even if he kept both feet on the ground honestly.

Harry hadn't received anything other than a newspaper since the last text from Hagrid.

Needless to say, this was quickly noticed by Draco, and his little owl started flying to the Gryffindor table now and again with pastries made by Narcissa, which Harry always happily wrapped beautifully pastry unpacked.

Gryffindor students were not used to this platinum owl at the beginning, because like its owner, it was too domineering and full of Slytherin breath.

Every time it scrambled to fly into the Great Hall of Hogwarts, leaving the other owls far behind.

And every time it landed on the highest candlestick of the Gryffindor table, and then tilted its head to look at the Gryffindor students with a look of contempt and contempt.

In view of its immaculate platinum feathers, it looks so beautiful and luxurious, and the kind Parvati Patil once tried to feed it with bread.

Then he was severely scratched by it.

Harry even saw the platinum-blonde owl clear the way for itself and Hedwig a few times - it used its sharp beak to nibble at every owl that flew faster than it and Hedwig, like a bird. Just like a real kitty.

Especially Neville's little gray owl, who was bullied the worst by this domineering platinum-gold little owl-the Longbottoms' owls were all good flyers, but not good fighters.

On this day, after the platinum owl brought Harry dessert from Malfoy Manor, it still stopped at the Gryffindor table and refused to leave.

Harry followed its smug eyes towards the door of the auditorium, and sure enough, not long after, Neville's owl flew in listlessly, and it looked as if it had been beaten by Draco's owl on its dejected appearance.

The little gray owl had brought Neville a small package from his grandmother.

Neville opened it excitedly, and showed everyone a glass ball the size of a marble, which seemed to be filled with white smoke.

"It's a memory ball!" he explained. "Grandma knows I don't always remember—it tells you if there's something you forgot to do. See, you hold it tight, like this, and if it Turned red-oh..." He suddenly elongated his face, because the memory ball suddenly became bright red, "...you just forgot something."

Neville tried desperately to remember what he had forgotten.

Just then, Draco came to the Gryffindor table to call back his owl, and he snatched the Remembrall out of Neville's hands.

Ron jumped to his feet.

For various reasons, he somewhat hoped to have a fight with Malfoy.

Professor McGonagall, however, was always more acute than the other teachers in noticing when something was wrong, and she appeared in the blink of an eye.

"What's going on?" Professor McGonagall asked seriously.

"Malfoy stole Neville's memory ball, Professor." Ron complained quickly.

Draco scowled, and quickly tossed the memory ball back onto the dining table.

At 03:30 that afternoon, Harry, Ron, and the rest of the Gryffindor students hurried down the steps and onto the front yard for their first flying lesson.

It was a clear, breezy day, and the grass swelled slightly under their feet as they walked briskly down the sloping lawn to a flat lawn on the opposite side of the field.On the other side of the lawn is the forest, and the dark trees in the distance are swaying in the wind.

The Slytherins were already there, and twenty broomsticks were neatly stacked on the ground.

Harry had once heard Fred and Jocha Weasley complain about the broomsticks at school, how some of them wobbled when you flew too high, and others always leaned slightly to the left.

Their teacher Mrs. Hooch came.She had short gray hair, and her eyes were yellow like a hawk's.

"Well, what are you all waiting for?" she snapped. "Everyone stand by a broomstick. Quick, quick, hurry up!"

Harry glanced down at his broomstick. It was old and battered, with branches protruding in all directions.

"Put your right hand over the broom handle," Mrs. Hooch called from the front, "and said: Get up!"

"Get up!" everyone shouted.

Harry's broom jumped into his hands immediately, but there were only a few brooms so obedient.

Hermione Granger's broom just rolled on the ground, and she looked annoyed.

And Neville's broom didn't move at all.

Perhaps, Harry thought, the broom, like the horse, could read your timidity.Neville's voice trembled slightly, it was obvious that he wanted to stand firmly on the ground.

Then Mrs. Hooch showed them how to get on a broom without slipping off her head.She walked up and down the line, correcting their grip.

"Now, as soon as I whistle, you kick your legs off the ground and kick hard!" said Mrs. Hooch, "hold the broom steady, rise a few feet, then lean forward slightly, and fall straight back to the ground. Listen to my whistle, three-two-"

Neville, however, was too nervous to be left on the ground, so he didn't wait for the whistle to touch Mrs. Hooch's lips before he kicked it hard and flew up.

"Come back, boy!" cried Mrs Hooch, but Neville went straight up, like a cork spouting from a bottle, twelve feet—twenty feet, higher and higher.

Harry saw his terrified, pale face looking down at the rapidly receding ground below, saw him panting with his mouth open, and slipping off the side of the broomstick.

Then, it fell with a "bang--" and a violent impact.

Neville lay face down in the grass on the ground, curled up in a ball, whimpering and weeping.

His broomstick was still rising higher and higher, and then began to drift slowly towards the Forbidden Forest and disappeared.

Mrs. Hooch bent over Neville, her face as pale as Neville's.

"Broken wrist," Harry heard her whisper, "Okay, kid. It's all right, don't cry, get up."

She turned to the rest of the class and said, "I'm taking this kid to the school hospital, and none of you are allowed to move! Put the broomsticks back where they were. Otherwise, you'll be kicked out before you can say 'Quidditch'." Out the gates of Hogwarts. Come on, dear."

There were tear streaks on Neville's face. He grabbed his wrist and limped away with Mrs. Hooch.Mrs. Hooch put her arms around him.

As soon as they were out of hearing, Draco burst out laughing, "Did you see his face, that big fool!"

The other Slytherins echoed.

"Shut up, Malfoy," said Parvati Patil sharply.

"Yo, protect Longbottom!" said Pansy Parkinson, a pretty Slytherin girl: "Didn't think you'd like chubby little tearbags, Patil."

"Look!" Draco said, rushing to grab something from the grass, "That big fool Longbottom's grandma gave it to him."

He held up the memory ball, which gleamed in the sun.

"Here, Malfoy," Ron whispered.

Everyone stopped talking and watched.

Draco laughed and ignored him.

"I want to put it somewhere for Longbottom to pick it up. How about putting it on a tree?"

"Bring it here!" Ron yelled, but Draco was already jumping on his broom and taking off.

Draco wasn't bragging about what he had said before - he did fly well - and he was levitating at level with the top of an oak tree, and he yelled, "Come and get it, Harry!"

Harry grabbed his broom.