Oh God Not Again! - Kapitola 04

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Note: Harry may be being a bit too unconcerned with what people might think of his twenty-three-year-old self pretending to be eleven, but it's not like anyone is likely to conclude that he's from the future, they'll just think that he's precocious. And no, I don't think Harry will really bother to tell anybody that he's from the future because, honestly, why would he need to? And if he did, Hermione and Dumbledore would be riding him to act more responsibly since he's not actually a child anymore and not to abuse his future knowledge, and where's the fun in that?
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The morning of their first flying lesson had Harry a bit nervous. Not that he didn't know how to fly, of course, far from it. But the last time had been rather…eventful. He wanted to get on the Quidditch Team, but he wasn't about to just sit back and let Neville break his wrist. Granted, it didn't do any lasting physical damage, but it had deeply embarrassed him and Harry didn't feel that he would be justified to let it all happen again just so that he wouldn't have to wait a year to join the team.
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And then there was the issue of Draco Malfoy to consider. Last time, he had stolen Neville's Remembrall and the ensuing dominance battle between the two of them had earned him a place on the team. Harry had no doubt that Malfoy would pull the same stunt; the only difference was that he had to somehow repeat the catch without the accompanying hatred. It was possible that the event wouldn't take place at all, that Neville wouldn't fall off his broom. On the other hand, how was Harry supposed to prevent that? The best he could really do was a cushioning charm, which he vaguely wondered why Madam Hooch hadn't done the first time. Because, really, it's not like she could have realistically been panicked because Neville, no matter how incompetent he had seemed back then, couldn't have been the only one to have ever fallen off a broom.
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Perhaps she was a Squib; he didn't think he'd ever seen her do magic. He supposed it didn't matter though, since he (unlike practically everyone else in the Wizarding World) honestly didn't care if someone was part house-elf. And no, the reason he used house elves as an example wasn't prejudice, just simple logic as to the circumstances that would lead to a house elf and a human having a baby.
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He was jolted from his musing by Draco's arrival. Neville had just received his Remembrall and Draco had, as before, snatched it. Harry had never found Remembralls very useful, despite what other people said. After all, what was the point of knowing you'd forgotten something if the bloody ball never told you what it was? And for that matter, who hasn't forgotten something at any given point in time? Maybe it was like Muggle mood rings. Of course, those might have even been more pointless because chances are you already knew what you were feeling and thus didn't need a gaudy piece of jewelry to tell you.
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Ron jumped to his feet, clearly eager to start a fight.
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"Oh, sit down Ron. It's too early to fight," Harry complained. "I mean, we haven't even finished breakfast."
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"Oh, he'll still be around later if you absolutely must engage in petty House-pride bickering," Harry assured him.
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Ron looked a little cross at the dismissive mention of his apparent family feud with the Malfoys, but did as Harry asked. Harry briefly wondered why in the world the Wizarding World still operated on a blood feud system since most Muggle societies (and certainly all Western European ones) had outgrown generation-long grudges that nobody ever knew the meaning for and that never ended until a person from both families fell in love with each other or they killed each other centuries ago.
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"Thank you," Harry said. "So what are you doing over here anyway?" he asked Draco. "Was Neville's Remembrall too shiny for you to resist?"
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his broom quality-mudlovský dvojsmysl-dobře naleštil násadu/o kvalitě jeho nádobíčka/jak mu mete jeh
Harry snorted at the double-entendre, which flew way over everyone's heads except Hermione's, who looked a little disapprovingly at Harry and muttered, "Boys."
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Draco just looked at Harry strangely and continued. "But then I saw this. Everyone knows that only losers need Remembralls. They went out of fashion at least twenty years ago." Clearly Draco didn't understand the appeal of retroness. But for that matter, Augusta Longbottom probably didn't know either, she was just old and thought toads were still in.
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"Then why did you decide that you absolutely must have it immediately and couldn't have even asked Neville first?" Harry asked reasonably.
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"Draco, are you a kleptomaniac?" Harry asked him seriously.
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"What the bloody hell is that?" Malfoy asked, sensing he'd been insulted.
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"A person who is compelled to steal for no adequately explained reason," Harry replied, remembering something Hermione had told him a few years back. Or it was something like that. It definitely meant stealing a lot. In fact, Harry could probably make a good case for Voldemort being a kleptomaniac. And Dumbledore, too, the items he kept from Harry because he wasn't 'mature enough' for things his father had had since he was a child until after Voldemort was defeated.
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"Then I'm sure you won't have any trouble returning that," Harry smiled brightly at him.
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Malfoy huffed in annoyance. "Fine," he said, handing the ball back and then returned to his table.
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Harry looked up and saw Professor McGonagall, watching from the staff table, gazing at the scene with approval. Oh dear Lord, if Harry wasn't careful, they might actually make him a bloody Prefect. And while it's true that Harry was upset at the time, he quickly realized that Ron being the Prefect instead was rather nice as he didn't have to be up at all hours patrolling the corridors in case any students fancied a midnight stroll. Seriously, you'd think that Hogwarts'd have a better security system, but noooooooooooo. That's not 'traditional.' Tradition in the Wizarding World, as Harry understood it, was just what they said when their hopelessly outdated ways were questioned and served as an excuse to continue doing what they've been doing since time immemorial simply because they've been doing it since time immemorial.
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"Why do you put up with him?" Hermione asked Harry once he returned his attention to the table.
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"What do you mean?" Harry asked. "He hasn't actually done anything yet." And we've been here for over a week and a half, he added silently.
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"Well, no," Hermione conceded. "But he doesn't seem like a very pleasant person."
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Harry shrugged. "Unpleasant people need friends, too," he pointed out.
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