The prospect of flying had never enticed Percy Jackson.

For as long as he could remember, his mom had always warned him of the dangers, and urged him about how he should never find himself too far in the air.

He knew vaguely of his grandparents, and how they met their untimely deaths in a fiery plane crash. He always just assumed his mom was still, understandably so, upset from losing her parents, and the idea of flying brought bad memories to the surface for her.

But when he found out that flying lessons would be coming to the first years, he understood his moms warnings on a deeper level. Never having been anywhere near a plane, or anything flying, he'd never experienced what he was experiencing currently.

When Harry broke the news that they were to be having a flying class, shared with the Slytherins no less, Percy felt his body grow stiff, and his hands start to clam.

The idea of being anywhere in the air, without a building beneath him, he hated to admit it, but it scared him. The concept of flying was something so foreign to him, and against his instincts that he was visibly shaking. His gut feeling told him that the minute he stepped foot in the air, he was in enemy territory.

It took him a little while to calm down, making him look like a fool in front of his friends, but thankfully they didn't care too much at his actions, but that didn't stop him from sputtering out a very weak excuse.

He didn't understand why he acted like this. Seeing the broomstick in Diagon Alley made him excited. The idea of using a broomstick now, excited him. The concept of a broomstick seemed so freeing, and he felt he could be free whilst on one and yet flying felt so trapping.

It was until breakfast on Thursday that he actually had a deep conversation with someone about his fear of flying. Well deep for Percy, so a small exchange.

After waiting in the Gryffindor common room for her to come down, Percy and Hermione walked together towards the Great Hall.

Percy knew that the idea of a flying class rattled her almost as much as it rattled him, just for different reasons. He didn't like the idea of being almost wanted whilst in the air, and Hermione didn't like the idea of a class where she couldn't be the best by learning out of a book.

Wanting to make sure she was okay, and ready for the class later today, he told her to meet him in the common room so they can go to breakfast together.

Since they both get up fairly early, a miracle for someone like Percy, but standard procedure for Hermione, they had a lot of time to spare so they made the most of it, and took the scenic route to the Great Hall.

It was a short while before either really spoke, both happy to enjoy the fresh air, but it was Percy who broke the silence first.

"So flying, huh? Wizards never stop surprising me. You finally learnt all you need to know?" He asked her, remembering the times she went to the library to read all she could about flying on a broomstick.

Hermione's cheeks went pink.

"Not quite yet. There's just so much to learn. There are far too many different broom holding techniques, and twists and turns and manoeuvres to perfect, as well as all the different makes of brooms and how like with wands, the wood changes how they act which then means I can't use some of the techniques I learnt on some brooms because they might be made for different types of brooms. That's without mentioning it's a lot easier to read about it than do it in practice." There was a slight breath at the end, that usually meant she was finished talking, before she turned to Percy, and said, "How are you feeling? You looked really bad when Harry first told you about the lessons."

Percy probably should have expected this when he brought up the topic of flying, but it didn't leave him any less prepared.

She was right though, he was a mess when he first found out, embarrassingly.

"Better. What's the use in caring when it's happening anyway, ya know?" He could tell from the look that passed across her face that this wasn't what she was looking for.

"Yeah I suppose that's fair enough. But I was more wondering why you acted like that in the first place. I wouldn't have thought you were scared of heights, afterall, you tell me about how you like to look out your window in Gryffindor tower at night to watch the stars shine. And they're pretty high up." Fired Hermione, as curious as ever.

It was often hard to decipher the true intent of what Hermione says, because she has this overwhelmingly curious and questioning personality, which means that everything always sounds like she's trying to work through the answer on her own, and doesn't actually care for your answer, when in fact she does.

He started and stopped a couple times, trying to word what he was about to say in a way that made him sound slightly more sane, "I wou..I'm not sca...It's complicated. I'm not scared of heights, but I am of flying. Like I'm not scared of falling off or anything like that, but when I think about being in the air whilst flying, I feel wrong. Like it's going against who I am. Just talking about flying now, thinking about the wind rushing past my face and hair, is getting my heart pounding and I can feel my back tensing a little. But, like, being on a broomstick also feels kinda liberating. Like I'd enjoy flying, if it just wasn't in the air."

For perhaps the first time, Hermiome appeared to be at a loss for words. He doesn't blame her, it's not exactly a normal fear. Most people who are scared of flying, are scared of crashing or falling, whereas he was sitting here scared of the actual idea of flying in the air.

When planning his argument before, he was originally going to bring up his mom and grandparents, and how it was drilled into him that flying was bad, but something deep down told him that wasn't the true reason for his fear. His intuition was going off the rails with this one.

The topic gradually moved on from the idea of flying, as Hermione couldn't quite find the words to ease Percy's mind, and Percy didn't want her to either. He wasn't looking for someone to make him better.

Their chatter descended into small talk, both not needing to have a deep conversation to enjoy talking to each other.

Still having the time to spare once they reached the Great Hall, they both sat down, got their food, and ate slowly. Hermione was currently telling him about everything she had read in Quidditch Through the Ages, after he asked "What's everyone's deal with Quidditch anyway?"

Perhaps he wasn't looking for the detailed, in depth history of Quidditch that he got, but he still enjoyed learning about the sport, as it made him feel like he could actually speak to Ron about it instead of awkwardly standing to the side to wait for the topic to change. He'd learn from Dumbledore as well, but the old wizard left a lot out for him to explore on his own.

Soon more and more people started filtering into the Hall, and the volume of the chatter in the room went up.

He learnt from his, probably not too subtle, eavesdropping that Neville was equally nervous about flying, since his grandmother never let him anywhere near a broom, so he was trying to listen intently to what Hermiome had to say.

He let those two talk it out, as he had already heard it earlier, and started up a conversation with Harry, to then be joined by Ron when he eventually lugged himself down to get something to eat.

The topics were meaningless, from being asked about his chocolate frog card collection by Ron, to which he had to answer that it was doing quite poorly, to him wanting to know what he missed out on from when they met Hagrid.

"Nothing much really, mate." Started Ron, "we just went round, had some tea, and these really bad rock cakes. More rock than cake, I'll tell ya."

"Yeah, while I like Hagrid, I didn't have the heart to tell him that I didn't like his rock cakes. I think I've still got one in my trunk if you want to try it." Harry asked Percy, grimacing a little at the memory of the cakes.

"Erm I'll think I'll pass." Percy retorted, not too fond of the idea of breaking his teeth.

There was soon a sound of screeching as the owls descended to deliver everyone's mail.

He flinched at the sight of the owls. He had a poor relationship with these nocturnal vermin. Granted they hadn't quite outright attacked him whilst he's been at Hogwarts, they wouldn't let him take his mail without having to come away with a few scratches to his hands.

Today was no different.

Normally every owl would drop the parcels and mail they were carrying on the table in front of the student. But whenever Percy was concerned, the owl would always swoop down, and perch itself on the table in front of him.

It would then raise its talons slightly, allowing the letter to be reached easier, almost taunting like. The minute he'd reach in, to get the letter (the only thing he could do to get his letter, for he was too stupid to think to ask someone else to get his mail), the owl would then lower its talons to the point where if Percy wanted to get his hand and letter out, he would be forced to get a light scratch on his hand.

It was almost nice in a way. In a very weird way. It was like they were compelled to injure and attack Percy, but they also didn't want to hurt him too much. If they weren't wizarding owls, he'd be lucky to come away with just a light scratch and not severely shredded clothes with blood seeping through the tears. Were owls just nicer in the wizarding world?

Who knows?

Checking the package in his lightly scratched hand, he saw words in his moms hand writing on the front. Unwrapping it, he found a letter, and a bag of blue sweets.

Opening up the letter, he saw his mom had tried to use more spaced and bolder words to help ease his dyslexia, like she normally does. It helped to an extent, but he still could only make it through a couple of sentences after quite a long time.

Looking around, his eyes spotted the bushy hair of his friend Hermione, and while he was sure she'd be cool with helping him out with reading if he ever needed it, it was still awkward to ask at this stage in the new friendship.

Lightly tapping her shoulder, to draw her nose out of her book, he took a small breath before putting a small smile on his face.

Turning around fairly sharply, a look of mild annoyance on her face, she looked ready to berate someone.

He just gave her a sheepish grin.

Her fire soon turned cool as her initial ire wore down, and she returned his smile.

"Hi, did you get anything good in the package you got?" She looked down at the letter in his hands, before noticing the scratches on his hand. "What happened there? Are you okay"?

Looking down at his hand, he saw the light scratches running across it. He'd honestly nearly forgotten about it at this point, as it really was a very light scratch.

"Oh the erm, owl delivering my mail, I snagged one of his talons. It's fine, doesn't hurt. And will proably clear up in a few days." It wasn't a lie, but she didn't seem convinced.

"Well what about your mail then. What did you get?" Her mouth moved on, but her eyes said otherwise. You could just tell she found it odd that he was close enough to an owl to get injured.

"That's what I got you for. I... erm, well I... erm. I've had trouble reading ever since I can remember. The words just don't sit still. I was kinda hoping you'd help me read it." He confessed to her.

Despite having been dyslexic his entire life, the awkwardness and helplessness he felt when admitting his weakness was always humiliating.

Her eyes widened a little, "Oh, you mean you're dyslexic? Of course I'll help you." The lack of judgement in her voice really helped soothe Percy's worry.

There wasn't much in the letter, just an update on how she was doing finding a job, and reminding him to keep safe and to study hard.

He smiled a little at the end of the letter, feeling a little warm at hearing his mom is doing well.

He thanked Hermione, before he reached for the bag of sweets, pulling a random one out before offering her some.

It wasn't long after that, that they all started moving towards their classes for the day.

The classes passed by, rather boringly, as all the students were growing more and more excited for the flying lessons later that day, and he just couldn't relate to them.

Well he could, he loved the idea of Quidditch and being free on a broom, he just wished they could do it underwater or something.

When the time came, he trudged after the Gryffindor pack who were practically prancing forward with excitement.

Percy followed as they made their way down long, sloping hills leading to a smooth, flat lawn. There was a slight chill breeze to the air, crisp in nature, fluttering through the clear sky.

Taking deep breathes to tame his nerves, he shut his eyes and focused on the soft breeze rustling past his ear.

It wasn't long before the group of first year Gryffindor students arrived at the correct location, and discovering they had been beaten there by the Slyrherins.

Following the herd to the other side of the lawn, away from the Slytherins, he spotted the dividing line of 20 or so broomstick sitting between them, lying in neat lines.

He looked over at them warily, any minute now and he'll be up there, then it's anybody's game.

He spotted their teacher, Madam Hooch, enter the field, and quickly make her way over. Her eyes, hawk like in colour, sat below her short, grey hair.

"Well, what are you all waiting for?" she barked. "Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up."

Following her lead, he headed towards the broomsitck closest to him.

When he first caught sight of a broomstick, all those weeks ago in Diagon Alley, it was this majestic, beautiful, and intricate work of art.

He remembered how much he enjoyed the idea of being free, and how he'd enjoy using a broomstick. Back then he hadn't seen the broomstick as a means to be free whilst flying, but just as a means of being free. He didn't once think he'd use it to fly in the air, despite knowing it was a flying machine.

And it was true, he loved the idea of being free. But the more he thought about being free in the air, the more he felt trapped. He wished that in this moment, standing in front of the crappy, old broomstick, he could go back to the same excitement he felt back in Diagon Alley.

There was just something about the air that screamed danger.

"Stick out your right hand over your broom," he heard Madam Hooch call from the front, "and say 'Up!'"

"UP!" everyone shouted.

His broom jumped straight into his hands. The minute his fingers curled around the broom, he felt his worries quieten down. They by no means disappeared, but the waters had temporarily calmed.

He did a quick glance around to see if any others had done it. He first clocked Draco proudly waving his broom around, due to the Slytherin being nearly opposite him.

He saw Hermione next to him struggle. Whenever she called for it, it just rolled over on the ground, which is more than what Neville got. Neville's broom lay still, not moving an inch.

The only other one that Percy could tell had done it first time, was Harry, a couple places away from him.

He could hear Hermione growing more and more frustrated at her brooms defiance, so he leant over to hear and said, "Just relax a little. Think of it like a horse, or something. If you want it to do what you want, be a bit more gentle and assured with what you say. Okay?"

Hermiome breathed through her nose and exhaled out of her mouth, trying to calm down a little. She followed Madam Hooch's instructions once more, thinking about Percy's words too, held her hand over the broom, and said, "Up!"

The broom didn't move.

A loud sigh of frustration greeted Percy's attempts to say, "I thought it would work.", and Hermione just ended up reaching down and grabbing the broom off the floor.

Once everyone had their brooms in hand, whether through calling it or picking it up like Hermione, Madam Hooch showed the class how to successfully mount a broom without sliding off the end. Before walking up and down the rows correcting grips.

His grip was all over the place, as evidenced by how much adjusting Madam Hooch had to do. As she worked her way down the line, Percy noticed she practically skipped Harry out, after looking down at his hands with an impressed look upon her face.

He guessed the boy who lived was as much of a natural at Quidditch, as he was at slaying infamous Dark Lords.

His eyes followed Madam Hooch as she made the rounds, before she ended up at a floating Draco Malfoy. He could see the glee on Harry and Ron's face as she told him he'd been doing it wrong for years.

He, too, couldn't keep the slight smirk off of his face at seeing the gobsmacked Draco.

"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard," said Madam Hooch. "Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle -- three -- two--"

In what was becoming typical Neville fashion, he kicked off before Madam Hooch blew her whistle.

"Come back, boy!" she shouted, but Neville was ascending high, and fast -- twelve feet -- twenty feet. His scared white face was for all to see as he looked down at the ground growing further away, before he gasped, and slid sideway off of his broom.

WHACK - after a painful thud, and a nasty crack, Neville lay facedown on the grass in a heap. His broomstick was still rising higher and higher, and started to drift lazily toward the forbidden forest and out of sight.

Madam Hooch was bending over Neville, her face as white as his.

"Broken wrist," she murmured to mainly to herself, but for all to hear. "Come on, boy -- it's all right, up you get."

She turned to the rest of the class.

"None of you is to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing! You leave those brooms where they are or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quidditch.' Come on, dear."

Neville, his face tear-streaked, clutching his wrist, hobbled off with Madam Hooch, who had her arm around him.

A burst of laughter rang out as soon as the two were away from earshot. Malfoy was the culprit, if one couldn't guess.

"Did you see his face, the great lump?"

The other Slytherins joined in.

"Shut up, Malfoy," snapped Parvati Patil.

"Ooh, sticking up for Longbottom?" said Pansy Parkinson, a hard-faced Slytherin girl. "Never thought you'd like fat little crybabies, Parvati."

"Look!" said Malfoy, darting forward and snatching something out of the grass. "It's that stupid thing Longbottom's gran sent him."

The Remembrall glittered in the sun as he held it up.

"Give that here, Malfoy," said Harry quietly. A pin could drop as everyone grew silent quickly, eager to watch.

A nasty smile, nowhere near out of place on Malfoys face, grew.

"I think I'll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find, how about, up a tree?"

"Don't be such a prick all your life Malfoy." Shouted out Percy, as Harry yelled,

"Give it here!" A moment after.

But Malfoy had already leapt onto his broomstick and taken off. He hadn't been lying, he could fly well. Hovering level with the topmost branches of an oak he called, "Oi, come and get it then."

Harry grabbed his broom.

"No!" shouted Hermione to the right of him. "Madam Hooch told us not to move, you'll get us all into trouble."

Percy was just thankful Harry made a lot of movement getting his broom, as she didn't notice him getting his.

He locked eyes with Harry, and gave him a little nod. Harry seemed to understand, and stepped down from his broom.

Hermione was satisfied with this, until she heard the air woooosh behind her as Percy shot forward. She turned to see what happened, when she heard it again behind her as Harry shot off as well.

Percy was no longer as confident in the air, as he was in the ground. The minute he set off, he could feel the air turn icy, pulsating with a hidden energy. Dark clouds rolled in from behind the distant hills, as rain began to fall. A heavy smell of ozone wafted throughout the area, the smell of an oncoming storm sent warning bells through Percy mind. Heavy gusts blew this way and that. He was lucky he'd been gripping tightly when ascending to meet Malfoy.

His eyes fluttered every which way, looking for a way out. He'd been on a steep incline and had reached high into the sky. Whatever was going to happen, was going to happen quickly.

He didn't stand a chance at getting to the ground soon enough, and that's not like he thought it would make any difference.

He glanced down, towards the group below him, and he saw them pointing up at the sky, whilst trying to cover their heads with their robes to protect them from the rain.

He tried looking around for Harry and Draco, but he lost them in the dark that rapidly appeared.

He could vaguely make out in the distance, through the now gloomy air, that the Great Lake had its waters thrashing against the shore. An almost whirlpool-esque phenomenon stirred the waters in the middle of the lake into a frenzy.

And just like that, the storm stopped.

The lake stilled in the blinking of an eye, and the dark clouds and the smell of ozone just blew away. The wind soothed to the gentle breeze once more.

His heart was hammering the inside of his chest, rapid breaths slowly being brought under control.

He brought his hands up to his soaked head, flinging his hair backwards, before clearing his face from the rain.

His hair kept dropping into his eyes, so he gave it one last try to push it backwards, before his stomach dropped.

A large gust of wind then appeared from nowhere. Careening into the side of him, causing him to tumble from his broom.

Free falling 60 feet, he grasped his hand out, trying to clutch onto his broom. His fingertips made contact with the shaft, but he couldn't hold onto it.

And just like that, he was falling. He could see the ground coming upon him, and he heard the startled gasps of the crowd below as he quickly came into range.

And then, nothing.

A/n - a fairly quicker update this time, I'm sure you'll all agree.

I've decided how long I left for wasn't good enough at all, so I'm now aiming to get a new chapter out every 1-2 weeks. This one was brought out as quickly as I felt comfortable doing, because those who have stuck by me for a while deserve at least this small reward.

Hope you enjoyed, and until the next time, see ya.