The Flying Lesson

                                    

                                          
The September sun was shining soulfully through the arches of the Entrance Hall as Draco and I lumbered through, both laden with heavy bags and me holding the little black kitten that I'd bought in The Magical Menagerie back in Diagon Alley. We've been here a whole month now, and it already feels like home - Dad told me Hogwarts is special like that, and he was right.
"Did you see my matchstick?" Draco asked me proudly as we descended the steps to dinner, brandishing his wand and giving it a twirl. "And that wand movement for Flitwick-"
"Swish and flick!" I recited, twirling my own. 
"Yeah!" 
The wind kicked up a few stray leaves by the great oaken doors leading onto the grounds and I pointed my wand at the greenest one, "Wingardium Levio-"
"Oi!" screeched an oily voice and I jumped, the leaf bursting into flames. "No magic in the corridors!" 
The caretaker, Filch, limped over, his greasy locks shining in the ribbons of sunlight as he hobbled over, cat-like eyes narrowed and wheezy mouth open. Draco paused beside me, swivelling his body to face the ugly man with an expression of pure dislike on his pale face.
"You'll get detention for that!" the man growled, jabbing a bony finger on my chest.
I recoiled in horror and Draco hissed in outrage. "Don't touch her!"
"An' you!" Filch said, gleefully. "You were about to-"
"I wasn't about to do anything!" Draco snarled, "And you keep your filthy squib fingers off of my best friend or my father will hear about it." 
Filch made a noise similar to a wretching cat, and his jowls quivered with his next sentence. "How'd you - how'd you know that?"
Draco looked genuinely disgusted and marginally incredulous as he replied with, "Well, it's obvious, isn't it? Limping around like an idiot and chasing students off with a broom not a wand, plus my father told me - and even if he hadn't - the smell would tell me a mile off."
I snorted with laughter and Filch looked even more outraged than he had before. Draco wrinkled his nose and took my hand, "Let's get dinner, Seren."
I smirked into the fur of my kitten and shook my bag further up my shoulder, cringing as it pressed further into my sore skin. "Where were we?" I asked the frowning boy as we entered the hall.
A rich amber glow filtered through the great arched windows of The Great Hall, bathing the animatedly chattering students in a similar colour whilst they ate dinner and making his silver eyes glitter as he turned to me, "Umm... oh yeah, the matchsticks - we did pretty good, didn't we?"
"Professor Mcgonagall said ours was the best in the class," I agreed, recounting that joyous moment where she had somewhat begrudgingly praised me and Draco for our Transfiguration skills. "And my needle only had the red bit at the end!"
Draco grinned as we squeezed into seats between a group of third and fourth years, dropping our bag-fuls of needless books under the table, and slightly regretting taking so many from the library just because they 'looked cool'. 
"I can't wait till they're complete needles," he said, spooning mash potato and a whole steak onto his plate. "Then we can stab Crabbe and Goyle with them when they're being thick."
I laughed and glanced over to where the two thugs were huddled together a few seats down, rubbing my slightly tender shoulder. "Which is all the time," I said, rolling my eyes and making him choke on a mouthful. "Idiots - no! Enorah, get off the table!" I gasped.
 The tiny ball of fluff had wriggled out of my hands, which had momentarily relaxed, and was scrambling across my plate, trying to take a bite out of Draco's steak, who was eyeing her suspiciously and guarding it with his fork.