11. Broomsticks (1/2)

the days seemed to have flashed by like a feral snitch pelting across the quidditch field in a wild frenzy in the desperate endeavours of not being caught by a grubby hand, each one holding a precious memory that merlin was bound to remember— if not a little forcefully. it was undoubtedly better memories that served the worthiness of being remembered consistently instead of other more sinister ones hiding beneath his delicate facade. god, just how fragile was he? he had only come to the realisation when he thought back on his earlier meltdown in minerva's arms, the tears that were spilt, the emotions that had burst forth and overcome his rationality in composing himself, everything just falling apart all together again. even he had to admit that it was rather consoling though, to release his sentimental feelings and bottled up frustrations.

but now, at this very moment in the middle of a flying lesson, he was terrified. not for himself, no of course not— well, maybe a little— but his fear was more in depths with the wellbeing of the students he was primarily teaching this lesson. the gryffindors and slytherins; an abominable combination really, suitable enough in comparison to a cauldron blown up with the wrong ingredients tossed in. with the students as the unfortunate ingredients, they were practically hurled into the cauldron that would inevitably melt into the ground of the earth or explode one huge chunk of the castle in one go.

merlin had taken a mental note that every class that had a mixture of gryffindors and slytherins were bound to become tedious and riddled with unruly taunts and insults tossed between the two houses. snape seemed amused at the young malfoy continuously bullying the potter boy and the weasley redhead, while his assistant glared at the side of his head before promptly scolding the lot of them for their poor behaviour. being the mother hen was quite a difficult job.

"sir," harry called with his hand waving in the air animatedly as ron parroted his gesture just as enthusiastically. they both held a

oomstick in their hand, something that made merlin inwardly cringe before forcing a grin on his face. oh, lord have mercy and spare me from this

ewing disaster already. he thought grimly, widening his smile like a bloody lunatic as he shook his head to himself. damn

oomsticks.

giving a casual wave, merlin stopped a good distance away from the duo and their

ooms, his eyes scanning them meticulously with a gulp. "there anything you need help on? afraid i'm not all too… friendly with

oomsticks, but i'll help where i can." another gulp. harry knitted his

ows down vaguely, exchanging looks with ron's concerned expression before looking back up at the warlock.

"why? thought you were gonna join us in the sky," ron queried, shooting a

oad and beatific smile towards their professor. "it'll be fun, promise! there's nothing wrong with my

oom, you can take it if you want, i'll just get one of the spare ones down the back, no biggie."

merlin stared at the red-haired boy blankly, examining the two of them as their smiles only widened pleadingly. i'm not getting out of this, am i? merlin sighed, running his hand through his untamed hair repeatedly before allowing himself to muster a small smile towards his students.

"i can't ride

oomsticks," he stated simply. "well, i mean- i can, of course. i just, uh, well you see it's a little complicated to explain—" just to his utmost luck, professor hooch came sauntering down the gap with two

oomsticks in hand as she called out his name. whirling around like a kid caught in the act of some malevolent act red-handed, he felt himself freeze at the

ooms she was holding, a peculiar dread drilling into his stomach relentlessly. "oh, no."

"mr evans! we're moving onto the next stage shortly, up and at 'em," she held up one of her hands holding a

oomstick. "i'm going to need your assistance while we're in the air for the next stage, can't have them zooming across the fields without any firm supervision see; lots of accidents are prone to happen. i'll holler once the other students manage to get on their

ooms properly."

just as he was about to protest and haphazardly throw himself into a stuttering mess of explaining why he was so against the subject of flying, the

oom was forcefully thrust into his chest, nearly knocking the wind out of him altogether. the coaching witch was already half-way down the line of students still trying to board their

ooms, giving enthusiastic advice to each of her pupils. the slytherins were struggling the most it would seem, merlin noted in the back of his head.

now, back to the main problem at hand. his

oom was trembling under his touch, violently, very violently. he winced at the thought of the object exploding in the palm of his hands right then and there, suppressing his urge to throw it as far as he could like it was some sort of vile cockroach climbing all over his hand. looking back at the duo, it appeared that they had taken notice of his

oom as well, furrowing their

ows together at it. harry was the first to call it out, taking a cautious step back.

"sir, your

oom," he pointed out, alarm taking over his once enthused expression, ron parroting him at the same time. "it… it looks like it's gonna explode!" it was surprising that harry even had the partial insight of the aggressively quivering

oom in comparing it to that of an explosive bomb. unfortunately, he was correct.

as the shaking of the object intensified with each passing moment, more eyes began to divert their attention to their

ooms and to the occurrence happening down the bottom of the lane. students whispered a little fearfully, muttering under their

eaths as some took attentive steps back from the group of three. with a sigh, merlin listlessly discarded the handle of the

oom before conjuring a delicate, transparent shield around the heating

oomstick with his stick— wand, he reminded himself.

and without another passing moment flying by, the wood clambered around as if it was trying to pick itself up from the ground, the surface of its timber literally tearing itself apart into

oken fragments with splinters falling prostrate around the grass in an ear-piercing snap. the straw hairs of the

oom began to wither off from the end, vaguely giving merlin the impression that it was like watching hair fall out of his scalp — it was unpleasant to say in the least. he actually felt bad for it, actually. that was until it exploded when he started to get closer to it, giving him a nasty fright as he muttered a curse under his

eath and took a few steps back again.

well, that was just rude.

"bloody hell!" ron exclaimed loudly, having backed up a good few feet away with his hand clutched around harry's arm as if it was his life support. hermoine, the bushy-haired girl closest to them, would have sternly scolded him for his exclaim but found herself just as shaken as the others were. mentally, she was going over in her head of all of the possible situations where a

oomstick could explode. she didn't think that they were supposed to that, at least not to that extent. in the corner of her eye, she could see students practically throwing their

ooms away from themselves, others following their example like mindless sheep.

merlin turned himself around to face the rest of the class, a look of understanding and what almost appeared to be a sheepish grin dawning across his features. he absently returned his stick — wand, curses— into his sleeves, clapping his hands together sharply which immediately drew in everyone's uneasy stares. even madam hooch seemed to be a little frightened, an odd achievement of some sort.

"sorry about that," he announced with a nervous chuckle. "sort of an, uh, what do you call it? occupational hazard most of the time, you know? good stuff, good stuff…" he trailed off, scratching behind his neck feverishly as his eyes darted everywhere from the sky to the forest. "anyways, um, lets just uh, carry on, yeah? everything's fine, your

ooms won't explode or anything too… uh, too dangerous or life-threatening." i think.

harry simply gaped at the professor, sparing a small sideways glance to the

oomstick that was pulsing in the palms of his hand. of course, he did feel a little fearful of what may or may not happen if he so chose to carry out the task of continuing to even hold this destructive weapon, but it also gave him a little excitement in actually mustering the courage to do so. actually, he felt rather determined, the complete opposite of what a majority of the others were feeling.

sealing the open gap in his mouth, he tightened his grip around the handle, positioning it between his legs with a steady and focused expression. ron started to mirror his actions like a parrot, although, his movements were a little staggering as if it looked like he was about to stumble at any moment. no doubt the shock of witnessing a

oom exploding — that was impeccably familiar to his own one and many others — was still riding on his mind. he heard madam hooch ushering the other students to hasten themselves and do the same as he was doing, followed by a few encouraging shouts by merlin to accompany her orders.

"right-so! oh, for the love of— pick up your

ooms now, hurry up, don't be so overly dramatic! they will not, and i repeat: will not explode, nor will they bite you. come now, up and at 'em! straighten your backs, tighten your grips- don't want none of you falling to your deaths." a few students actually paled at her last words as she hurried to follow her exact orders precisely, young neville seeming to be struggling a lot more than others when it came to just holding his

oomstick in his hand. this was where merlin came in and introduced himself, earning a few ungrateful sneers but also puzzled expressions from both slytherin and gryffindor.