Madam Hooch then showed them how to mount their brooms without sliding off the end, and with Potter walked up and down the rows correcting their grips. Harry and Draco were delighted when she told Weasley he'd been doing it wrong for years, and when Potter had tried to say Harry was holding it wrong Madam Hooch had stepped forward and declared Harry and Draco's grip was better than she expected an 11 year to have even a pureblood, despite having to correct the gap they had between the pointer finger."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"But Neville, nervous and jumpy and frightened of being left on the ground, pushed off hard 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 a bottle.... twelve feet... twenty feet. Harry saw his scared white face look down at the ground falling away, saw him gasp, slip sideways off the broom and.... WHAM... a thud and a nasty crack 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.