"Lily, don't do that!" the older girl screamed.
But when the little girl's swing reached its highest point, she let go and flew into the air. She really was flying, laughing joyfully as she hurled herself toward the sky. She did not crash heavily onto the playground's asphalt; instead, she glided through the air like an acrobat, lingering there for quite some time before finally landing lightly on the ground.
"Mum told you not to do that!"
The older girl dragged her heels against the ground to stop the swing, producing a harsh, piercing scrape. Then she jumped down and planted her hands on her hips. "Mum said you weren't allowed to do that, Lily!"
"But I'm fine," Lily said, still giggling. "Petunia, look at this. Look what I can do."
Petunia looked around. The empty playground held only the two of them. Then Lily picked up a dried, fallen flower from the bushes. Petunia came closer, looking both curious and displeased, deeply conflicted. Once Petunia was close enough to see clearly, Lily spread open her hand. The petals kept opening and closing in her palm, like some strange, multilayered oyster.
"Don't do that!" Petunia shrieked.
"I didn't do anything to you," Lily said, though she still crushed the flower into a ball and tossed it to the ground.
Lily had shown Pomona the same thing before. Not the swing, of course, but making a little flower open and close in her hand. She had long passed the age of being interested in swings, not to mention that she had seen broomsticks fly.
Pomona watched Elena Duncan eat breakfast at the Hufflepuff table while drinking her oatmeal. Elena looked gloomy, nowhere near as lively as Tonks beside her.
Riding a broom was rather like riding a bicycle for Muggle children.