Bravery Means Trying Again

by Dethryl

PotterFicWeekly Fanfiction Challenge April 2008

Neville slipped gracelessly from his broom and fell to the ground in a tangled pile of arms and legs. There was a loud snap that cracked through the still air like a shot. Neville howled in pain as his wrist snapped into pieces. Fire lanced up the nerves and into his brain.

Then Madam Hooch was there. Her face was as white as his, but she dispassionately took note of the odd angle of Neville’s hand and the way he cradled it to his chest. She reached out and lightly touched the boy’s flesh, which was already beginning to swell, and nodded affirmatively.

“Broken wrist,” she murmured. “Come on, boy. It’s all right. Up you get.” She was extremely thankful that it was no more serious. He could just as easily have broken his neck, and that would probably have been fatal.

After admonishing the Flying class, made up of mixed Gryffindors and Slytherins (a certain recipe for disaster), that any student departing the ground in her absence would face expulsion, Madam Hooch put her arm around the sniffling Neville, who still clutched at his wrist, and guided him towards the side door.

“It hurts,” Neville whimpered. “Why does it have to hurt so much?”

“The human body just wasn’t meant to bend certain ways, Longbottom. Be brave now. You’re supposed to be a Gryffindor.”

“I didn’t hear the Sorting Hat say anything about not feeling pain.”

“Buck up, boy. It’s not as bad as all that.”

Neville pushed his pain away from himself for a moment. “No, I guess not.”

“The most important thing after this is to get back on that broom,” Hooch said encouragingly. “You can’t be afraid of falling again. You have to just get right back on.”

“Not a chance.” Neville sounded resolute. “I like my feet firmly on the ground, thank you. I’d rather take Floo, and I hate Floo.”

Madam Hooch grinned and squeezed his shoulder. “You know, your father wasn’t much on a broom at first either. But he got competent, and so will you.”

Neville sniffled. “Dad had trouble flying?”

“His grip was all wrong, and he kept sliding off the back end.” Madam smiled as she recalled Frank Longbottom’s Flying lessons. “But he worked at it, and eventually he earned a spot on the team. He played Beater, as you know.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard.” His parents were legends in the family, heroes of the war against Voldemort. The Longbottoms had always supported the Light, and Neville’s family had always put tremendous pressure on him to live up to his parents’ celebrated reputation.

“Some day, you too will find it in you to soar through the skies, Longbottom. I have faith in you. I want you to keep at it. If you want extra lessons, just send me an owl. Then once we teach you to fly, we can teach you to play Quidditch.”

Now that sounded truly terrifying to Neville. But before he could object, Madam opened the door to the hospital wing and ushered him inside.

“Poppy, we’ve got a Flying accident here.”

End