This is a series of excerpts from The Philospher/Sorcerer's Stone. They are taken directly from the page of the books (American) because I thought you may enjoy them from a different point of view. Innuendo is a very fun word.
Disclaimer: why would I bother doing this if i even owned one tiny element of the Harry Potter series. Which I don't. Which is why my life is wasted away with Fan Fiction.
Madam Hooch then showed them how to mount their brooms without sliding off the end, and walked up and down the rows correcting their grips. Harry and Ron were delighted when she told Malfoy he'd been doing it wrong for years.
"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 back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle - three - two -"
But Neville, nervous and jumpy and frightened of being left on the ground, pushed off before the whistle had touched Madam Hooch's lips.
"Come back, boy!" she shouted, but Neville was rising straight up like a cork shot out of bottle - twelve feet - twenty feet. Harry saw his scared white face look down at the ground falling away, saw him gasp, slip sideways off his broom and -
WHAM - a thud and a nasty cracck and 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.