Disclaimers:  I do not own either Gundam Wing or Harry Potter.  I am making no money with this.  This story is purely for
entertainment purposes only.

Notes:  Thank you, thank you, thank you, Tenshi-Chan, for all the help.  This part would not have been completed without you.

Mores Notes:  Heero has a problem during their first flying lesson.  A serious problem makes itself known and time is running
out to prevent a death.



Soldiers of Sorcery



Part Nineteen


Heero was in a really bad mood as he stepped outside.  ‘I was supposed to be perfect!  Is it because J never trained me for
magic?’  The reason for his ire was because no matter what he did, or tried to do . . . he always botched it up somehow.  It
was one failure after another.  Even something as simple as a potion ended in disaster, such as the incident where he had spilled
a cauldron onto Professor Snape and lost two hundred points for Gryffindor when the teacher’s hand had begun to melt.

Every time Heero tried to use his wand, there was a backfire of sorts.  His fingertips were burnt, his hands almost totally
covered in cuts and blisters.  It hurt just to move them.  He had a continual headache, various pains in his body as well as an
inability to sleep properly.  He was just a failure as a wizard . . . if things kept going as they were, he would not be coming back
to Hogwarts for a second school year.

Heero sighed . . . he was NOT looking forward to flying class.  He could be very dangerous in the air.  In all probability Heero
would end up hurting either himself or one of the other students, possibly seriously.  The presence of the Slytherins in this class
did not make Heero look forward to it any more.  If he failed to do this, he would get laughed at . . . something he didn’t find
enjoyable to look forward to.

Duo’s easy teasing wasn’t helping either.  Well . . . to be honest, Heero couldn’t say that Duo was teasing him.  After all . . .
that was just the baka’s nature.  Jest, tease, poke fun . . . all to take the tension away.  His attempts were failing today.  Heero
much more appreciated Wufei’s soft comment.  ‘He said to just think of this as a mission . . . the mission is to fly on a
broomstick efficiently.  Mission accepted, Wufei.’  It made him feel marginally better as the silver-haired woman appeared.  She
looked like Heero expected a flying instructor to look.

Madam Hooch was a vivacious woman with golden eyes that resembled a hawk’s.  She looked neither old nor young . . .
ageless was the word for her.  “Good morning class!  I see you’re all ready!  You ARE all ready, are you not?”  She smiled, at
the numerous affirmative replies, although Heero hadn’t given one himself.  “Now . . . step up to the left of your broomstick,
hold out your right hand, and say ‘Up’ with a firm tone.  On my mark!  Three . . . two . . .”  She blew her whistle.

“Up!”  Heero glared as his broom didn’t even twitch.  He didn’t pay any attention to the other students.  “Up!  Up!”  He kept
saying again and again, with no results.

“Is there a problem, Mr. Yuy?”

Heero looked up at Madam Hooch and sighed.  “The broom won’t come up.”  He said, frowning when he heard a number of
snickers from the Slytherins.

Madam Hooch clucked her tongue.  “Put a little more FEELING into it!  Go on!”

Heero glared at the broom.  “UP!!”  He gasped as the broom practically leapt into his waiting hand . . . as if it had been lying
there JUST to make him look like a fool.  Heero growled, feeling quite like an idiot.

Madam Hooch simply nodded.  “All right, then!  I’m going to blow my whistle.  When I do, I want you all to push off the
ground, hover for a moment, then lean the tip of your broomstick down and touch down.  On my mark!”  She watched as the
students all mounted their broomsticks.  “Three . . . two . . . one . . .”


*****


Quatre took an instant liking to Madam Hooch.  Her emotions were firmly in check and she had a no-nonsense attitude that
reminded him of his eldest sister.  When the whistle blew, he followed the instructions . . . pleased that he did so well in the
hovering.  As soon as he touched down, he became aware of confusion and annoyance coming from Heero.  He looked over
and frowned as Heero continued rising.

Madam Hooch grabbed Heero’s foot.  “Mr. Yuy!  Come down here at once!”  She said, in mild annoyance.

“I’m trying!”  Heero’s voice was laden with confusion and he continued rising.  Without warning, the broomstick shot off.

Quatre blinked as Madam Hooch groaned about someone named Neville before taking off after Heero.


*****


Heero refused to panic.  It was not in his training to panic.  Besides, this was nothing when compared to the dangers of piloting
a mobile suit.  Although . . . that thought was hardly comforting considering he was trained to pilot a mobile suit and not a
broomstick.  He really wasn’t in the control of the situation and he didn’t like it.  It was like the broom had a mind of its own . .
. and the broom seemed intent on hurting him.  That was especially clear, since it headed straight for the dense wooded area that
was forbidden to all students.  Heero simply tightened his grip and let the branches pummel him, scratching at his skin and
tearing his school robes to shreds.

Trying to slow the broom proved ineffective as well.  The result was the broom slamming him into a tree trunk.  The broom
was fine, but Heero had to start taking stock of his injuries.  That hit had sent pain spiraling up the right side of his body . . .
contusions, a strong possibility of bruised or broken ribs.  He couldn’t be sure of the extent of damage without feeling it with a
hand and he wasn’t sure if releasing his hold on the broom was a wise decision or not.

However, as he thought about it, he decided it would be better to fall and hopefully not kill himself, than it would be to keep
getting himself bashed into tree trunks by his out of control broomstick.  So with a sigh, Heero released his hold, falling
backward off the broom and down into the dense wooded area.


*****


Madam Hooch internally muttered over the situation at hand.  There was most definitely something wrong with that boy.  Even
Neville Longbottom hadn’t done such a horrible job at flying.  But Heero . . . good gracious . . . it was just the worst display of
flying she had ever witnessed during her entire career at Hogwarts.

She looked around, wondering where the boy had gotten to.  Unfortunately, she had lost sight of him when his broom had dived
into the trees.  She hovered over the tops of the trees, looking down and hoping to catch sight of him through the branches.  It
took several minutes, but then she finally caught sight of a number of broken branches.  He must have gone that way, she
decided.

Cautiously, she descended to the ground, touching down and scanning the immediate area around her.  A slight movement
caught her eye and she rushed over, gasping when she saw the condition of her student.  He lay on the ground, his clothing torn
and bloodstained.  Blood dribbled from the corner of his mouth, dripping from various cuts and scrapes on his face as well as
caking in his hair from a rather serious-looking head wound.  His one eye was blackened, the right side of his face barely more
than just a single bruise.  His left leg lay twisted in an unnatural angle, his right shoulder more angular than it was supposed to
be.  All in all he looked very bad.

Madam Hooch knelt down beside Heero, reaching out and lightly slapping his unbruised cheek as carefully as she could.  “Mr.
Yuy?  Can you hear me?  You need to wake up.”

Briefly, Heero’s eyes opened, only to flutter shut again a moment later.  Madam Hooch repeated her earlier action, knowing that
it was dangerous for the young man to remain unconscious.  This time Heero did awaken.  He groaned, raising one arm and
holding the right side of his face, a grimace contorting his features.  He was most probably in a considerable amount of pain.

“I need you to stay awake, Mr. Yuy.  You’ve injured yourself quite badly.  Now, I’m going to get some help, so you just stay
here and for goodness sakes, don’t move too much.”  Madam Hooch said, getting up and rushing off.

Once she emerged from the forest, she looked around, spying Hagrid’s hut only a few yards away from her.  She ran over,
deciding he would do as good as any.  Hagrid was in front of his hut, instructing a class of students on the care of some
animal.  Madam Hooch paid little attention to the creatures, instead grasping the large man’s arm.  “Hagrid, I need your help.  
One of my students has gone and injured himself and I need to get him to the Hospital Wing.”  She said after gaining his
attention.

Hagrid nodded.  “I’ll be righ’ with yeh.”  He said, then turned to his students.  “Now, yeh take care of them . . . I won’t be
long.”

Madam Hooch led the way back to the forest, and over to where Heero lay.  He was still awake, a fact that Madam Hooch
found quite surprising.  Considering his injuries, she had expected him to have passed out again.

“He needs to get to Madam Pomfrey, but I doubt he can walk with a broken leg.”  Madam Hooch said.  “And who knows what
else he’s done to himself.”

“It was that stupid broom.”  Heero muttered without moving his jaw, glaring ineffectually at Madam Hooch.

“Don’t blame the equipment just because you can’t handle it.”  Madam Hooch chided, then turned her attention to Hagrid.  “Go
on, pick him up . . . carefully, mind you.”

Hagrid nodded, kneeling down beside Heero’s prone form.  The large man gently lifted Heero from the ground, moving as
slowly and carefully as possible.  Still, Heero gritted his teeth and cried out in pain, his body stiffening by reflex.  A moment
later, he passed out once again, his body losing the battle to remain conscious.  Madam Hooch sighed, directing Hagrid to
quickly get the boy to the Hospital Wing.  He would need tending to as soon as possible.


*****


Heero forced his eyes to open.  Pain was the first thing that he was aware of . . . and there was a lot of it.  He glanced around,
trying not to move his aching head too much.  He was in the Hospital Wing, that much he was sure of.  However, he didn’t
remember when he had gotten here, nor calculate how long he had been here.  The last thing he remembered was when Hagrid
had picked him up, which had definitely hurt a great deal.

Then a question ran through his mind.  If he was in the Hospital wing, then shouldn’t he feel somewhat better?  The truth was,
he felt even worse than before.  Every inch of his body felt like it was in flames, the pain clouding his vision.  It hurt to breathe,
it hurt to just lie there absolutely still.  Everything just hurt.

“He’s awake.”  Someone near him said.  Heero didn’t know who it was, and he didn’t try to look and see.  Moving his head just
hurt too much to attempt it again.

A number of faces then came into view, as they had leaned over and into his general line of sight.  There was Professor
Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey, both looking down on him with deep concern showing on their faces.

Heero tried to open his mouth, wanting to ask just how bad his injuries were, but couldn’t manage to open his mouth.  Slowly,
even though it pained him terribly, he raised his one hand, lightly touching his face and finding that there were bandages firmly
wrapped around his head, keeping his jaw set in place.  He looked questioningly at the two faculty members, hoping that they
would understand his unspoken question just by his gaze.

“Heero, I want you to understand, you are in quite serious condition.”  Madam Pomfrey said, her eyes glazed with deep
concern.  “That fall caused numerous injuries to your body.  You’ve broken several ribs . . . bruised a few others.  Your right
cheekbone was broken and your jaw fractured.  You dislocated your right shoulder.  Your left wrist is sprained and you’ve
broken both of your legs as well as twisting your right ankle.  There are too many contusions and scrapes to list and you are
bleeding internally.”

Professor Dumbledore sighed.  “It seems you have even more trouble than that, my boy.”  He said, laying a hand on Heero’s
arm, lightly.  Even that minimal amount of contact hurt Heero’s already injured body.

“All of my potions are ineffectual on you, Mr. Yuy.”  Madam Pomfrey said, gently lifting his one hand off of the bed to show
him his own hand.  “How long have you had these burns on your fingertips and these cuts and blisters?  Did you get them when
you first started using your wand?”

Heero nodded, if only slightly.

“Just as I thought.”  Professor Dumbledore groaned, shaking his head sadly.  Then he looked to Heero.  “I’m afraid someone’s
put a charm on you, Heero.  I’ve spoken with several of your teachers and they all concur that you are not doing well in any of
your classes . . . so I must assume that this charm dampens any magic regarding you.”

Heero whimpered, fearing that this would put an end to his time at the school.  Would they kick him out for this?  He didn’t
want to leave.  Even if he had been doing horribly in class he found this place to be quite enjoyable.  He’d never been happy . . .
being here brought him the closest he had ever been to achieving some fraction of happiness.

Dumbledore shook his head, his smile kind.  “Don’t fret, Heero.  I’ll do my very best to remove this charm from you myself.  
However, I am pressed for time.  As Madam Pomfrey has said, your injuries are quite severe and she has been unable to heal
them in the least.  I’m going to need you to remain awake for as long as you can while I attempt to remove the charm . . . I can’
t do it if you’re asleep or unconscious.  I’ll try to be as quick about it as I possibly can, but the incantation is rather long and
concentration is critical on both our parts.  Do you think you’re up for it?”

Heero nodded slightly.  “Do it.”  He whispered, through clenched teeth.

Dumbledore smiled.  “I thought you would say that.”  He looked up at Madam Pomfrey.  “Is everything ready, Poppy?”  He
asked.

Madam Pomfrey nodded, handing him a wand, presumably his own wand.  Professor Dumbledore turned to Heero, setting the
very tip of the wand against Heero’s forehead, keeping his eyes focused on the elder man’s gaze.  In a few moments, Madam
Pomfrey had left the two of them alone, and Dumbledore had begun uttering a long string of words that Heero hoped would help
him.



To Be Continued . . .