Dessa had been shocked and amazed by so many things upon her discovery of the wizard world, but one of the top ones had to be flying. Dessa had always been one to have flying dreams--albeit never on a broomstick--and the realization that this was an actual possibility had completely thrilled her.

And of course, when she'd discovered the existence of a sport that one played while flying, she had gone straight past thrilled, and right to the library. There, she did as much research as she could, all the while feeling vaguely like a Ravenclaw for all her time spent amongst the tomes. She'd then moved on to Quidditch magazines, and relentlessly quizzing any and all friends from wizarding families who could tell her any more about the sport. When she'd heard about the House Quidditch team, she'd been briefly euphoric. However, her status as a first year kept her from playing, a fact that she grudgingly accepted.

However, Dessa wanted to be fully prepared when she did get the chance to try out for the team, and that was what had led her to where she was now: striding hurriedly across the Quidditch pitch, hoping to encounter Madam Hooch.

Hooch was in the main equipment room beneath the stands, taking inventory and checking over the school's kit and kindle as it was called.  Kit, being all the gear, goggles, bats and balls; and kindle the broomsticks and twigged tails of the flying implements themselves.

She was a sturdy old witch, in her 90th decade, with shock-white hair and yellow eyes.  He had a scroll in hand was was walking slowly passed a rack of brooms, taking tally and checking for cracks or tail twigs that were too battered.

A creak of the door told her she was no longer alone, and she turned round expecting one of the regulars come round for a bit of sport and practice.  Quidditch season would be well underway soon and surely they'd be wanting to get in the training they could before try-outs began.  Even as she thought about it, she was surprised to see a first year.

The bushy-headed go-getter Dessa Share.  A pert smile lit her face and she turned full around in her black and white robes to face her.

"Miss Share - how can I help you?" 

The first years had already had just three flying lessons, but they were showing progress.  Muggleborns always took to it so enthusiastically, if not with the innate talent of the ones who'd perhaps grown up with brooms at home.

Dessa was rocked forward on her toes, excitement bubbling through her every nerve ending. "Hi, Madam Hooch." she replied, a grin splitting her face and lighting up her green eyes. She was aware that the level of anticipation and happiness she was currently exuding was enough to leave her looking slightly manic, but being herself, she really couldn't turn it off.

The matronly woman gifted Dessa a grin, and she felt an unreasonable spark of pride. Of course the teacher was happy to see her, eager students were, in Dessa's experience, a rare and treasured lot. "I've come to ask about lessons. Flying lessons, I mean, apart from class. I really want to make my House Quidditch team next year, and I just...I just really like flying. I want to be better at it."

Dessa steeled herself. It may be unreasonable now, but she swore that if Madam Hooch would grant her request, she would make that spark of pride deserved.

Hooch had taught at Hogwarts for fifty years.  More even, and she'd had hundreds of students.  She liked to think that she remembered them all, but it was easy to remember the kinds of students like Dessa Share, the ones with a true passion for the art of broomstick flying.  Of all the wonderous things Hogwarts could offer a young girl just discovering the wizarding world, Hooch knew that it was no small sign when it was Flying Class that caught their attention.

Her small little smile remained, crinkling her eyes. 

"Of course, you do," she said with pride and set down her scroll.  Dusting off her hands, she nodded the Gryffindor to come in and join her.

"I'd be happy to teach you but you'll have to hold up your end."  Enthusiasm was one thing easily found in 11-year-olds, but commitment wasn't.  "I'll need your commitment.  It's no small matter to get private training, so you'll have to be responsible, understand?"

Even though her tone was firm, Hooch was being friendlier - cheerier than the students had seen her in class so far.

"Can you do that? Can you appear each time on time when we've agreed to? Agree to heed my instructions?"

Dessa's face broke into a wide smile, and she nodded enthusiastically, cinnamon-coloured curls bouncing every which way. "Of course, thank you so much. I promise to be responsible. You won't regret this!"

Hardly able to contain herself, Dessa's gaze wandered wildly around the room. There were balls of every shape and size--for Quidditch of course. If she remembered correctly, there ought to be bludgers, a quaffle, and a snitch--of course the latter was strapped down somewhere out of sight. However, what really caught the young Gryffindor's attention were the brooms. She had seen enough pictures by now to know that these weren't exactly state-of-the-art flyers, but it hardly mattered. What was important was that these devices, really no more than wood and twine, could give her the ability to do something that most people only ever dreamed of.

"When can we start?" she inquired eagerly.

Hooch's stoic demands for a regimented agreement did nothing at all to bring down Dessa Share's mood, and Dessa nodded and agreed emphatically.  The passing fancies of little girls, but Hooch was not so jaded as to fret.  Either Dessa would stick with it, or she would find something else.  Either way, teaching a young with to fly properly was never a waste of time.  And it would never be a forgotten skill.

"Alright then," she said, and then drew out a tarnished silver pocket watch.  She flipped open the cover.

"Give me 10 minutes to finish up here, and then I have a half hour before Ravenclaw will be ready for me.  No studying yet to do this afternoon, do you?"

Hooch didn't wait for a response, though.  When brooms were involved, homework vanished magically.  She turned towards the brooms and beckoned the First Year over.

"Since we have  time, let's pick a good broom for you.  Longer broomstick gives you more control, but it's less agile.  What do you say?  There's our Firebolt's there and we've got some Nimbuses as well."

The enthusiastic nodding was starting to give Dessa whiplash, so she settled for a thousand-watt smile that only increased in intensity when Madam Hooch offered a lesson right now. A trickle of nervousness worked it's quick way down to her fingertips, and she shook them out. She'd made a fool out of herself plenty of times in class, and she was sure that nothing she could do now would be worse than the time in class when she'd barreled full speed into a poor Ravenclaw and sent him tumbling head over heels the eight feet to the ground. Luckily, he hadn't been injured, and Dessa's constant apologies had kept him from getting too angry.

Dessa chuckled at the matronly witch's abrupt disregard for whatever homework she might have. She was in silent agreement that any Charms essay could wait half an hour.

"Since we have  time, let's pick a good broom for you.  Longer broomstick gives you more control, but it's less agile.  What do you say?  There's our Firebolt's there and we've got some Nimbuses as well."

"Wow!" Dessa squeaked rather embarrassingly, an impulse outside her control. She sidled closer to the rack of brooms, chewing her lip. She wanted to ask Madam Hooch what kind of broom she'd recommend, but Dessa felt like now would also be a good chance to show that she was serious about these lessons, by picking a good broom. Her eyes wandered covetously over the length of the Firebolt, but she knew deep down that it was unlikely she'd be able to handle that kind of power just yet. All in good time, she assured herself, a mischievous grin playing over her lips. "I think I'll go with a Nimbus..." she answered after a long but not uncomfortable pause. "Nimbus Two Thousand."

Harry Potter had ridden one his first year, and it had certainly worked for him.

"Right then," Hooch said, happy with Dessa's choice.  It was a good broom even though it was over a decade old.  The Nimbus line had always been reliable and when well cared for they lasted ages.  And Hooch did all she could to keep the school brooms in good condition.  It was never easy getting the governors to find the costs to cover a fleet of new brooms when there were other pressing needs for the gold.

She handed over a rag and a little tin of polish. 

"I'll just be a few minutes.  Give the broomstick a good polish while you wait, yes?  Just put a little on the rag and run it over the wood until it's rubbed in and smooth."

At that, Hooch gave Dessa a quick nod, and took up her work again.  It wouldn't take long, and she was able to chat a little as she moved through the inventory of padding and goggles.

"You're muggleborn, are you?  How'd summer go then?"  she asked.  It could be a very difficult summer for some families, having just a a few months to get settled with the idea of magic.  Hooch herself had pitched in this year, visiting the home of Marlon Kaminski to break the news.

Dessa nodded eagerly and took the tin and rag. She sat down, criss-cross, right on the floor, and began to work. She bit her lip in concentration as she ran the rag over the broom. The polish had a strong scent that made her feel slightly dizzy, but not in an entirely unpleasant manner.

"You're muggleborn, are you?  How'd summer go then?"

Dessa looked up at the question. "Not as bad as a lot of others, so I've heard." She had several friends who's parents had completely freaked out upon the discovery that their child was a witch or wizard, some who had even been kicked out of the home. "My Dad's best friend is a wizard, actually, not that my Dad knew it. So I grew up playing with his kids, and Uncle Max--my Dad's friend--kind of recognized the magic in me. So when I got my letter, he helped explain it to my Dad. Plus, he was happy for the opportunity to finally tell my Dad about magic. It freaked my Dad out a little bit at first, but he's okay with it. He seems to think it's cool."

Max...Max...  Automatically, Hooch ran through the young Max's she'd taught over the years - certainly someone Dessa's father's age would have been young enough (significantly younger than her own impressive nine decades) to have been her pupil.  But Max was a common enough name that she couldn't place him, although there were a few ideas.

She kept on with her inventory.  Brooms would need to be divvied and assigned to those Quidditch players who didn't have their own - there was hot competition for the school's latest acquisitions and so she'd need a proper count to dole the kit out fairly. 

She smiled over her shoulder at Dessa before turning back to her parchment and commenting.  "Lovely to hear that.  Not everyone has that introduction to our society so readily at hand.  Have you owled home yet?"

Dessa nodded, hardly looking up from her work on the broom. "Yup. Loads of times. I write to my father, and my friend Ella. She's Max's daughter, but she's a...squib, I think they call it. And his son is here. Ravenclaw."

Dessa paused briefly and wondered why she hadn't talked to him since getting here. She hardly ever saw him around. She'd have to try to find him in the future. They'd been pretty close when they were younger--although nowhere near as close as her and Ella--and it would be nice to have a connection to home.

Finishing her intense polishing of the broom, Dessa hopped up, a grin on her face. "Finished!" she trilled.

Upon Dessa's annoucement that she was finished, Hooch herself only needed a few more marks on her parchment to be finished as well.  She rolled up the scroll and vanished it away, back to where it belonged in her tiny little office she kept at the castle (barely ever used).

She held out her hands to inspect Dessa's polishing job on the broomstick.  She nodded curtly in approved.

"Properly done, Miss Share."

She handed the broom back to the first year and then turned to take up her own.  Hooch had had many brooms over the years.  Sometimes she'd favored a high-quality  brand new model fresh off the market.  Other times she'd sworn by some vintage stick that she'd fixed up.  But the broom she had now was custom built.  Hand-carved, and hand-twigged, and personally enchanted to match her style and body perfectly.  It was of the palest wood and shone nearly white.  Hooch liked a long narrow broomstick, and this one was nearly as tall as her own shoulder.

She led the way out of the equipment room.  "Come on then." 

As she stepped into the sun, she lowered the goggles down onto her eyes, and pulled on her gloves.  There was a happy stiff breeze over the grounds and already Hooch wanted to be in the air.  Even at 93, she was still excited to get aloft where she belonged.

"How about the lake?"

More enthusiastic nodding on Dessa's part set he curls bouncing again. She wondered briefly if she was giving Madam Hooch the wrong impression-that she was completely out of her mind-but the moment passed quickly. It was impossible for worries to find a place in her head when all space was otherwise occupied by the mere thought of  boarding a broomstick.

 "So if I fall, I'll at least land in the water?" she asked, only half kidding.

Hooch looked over her shoulder to flash a small grin at Dessa.  Silly, she was.  And while Hooch wasn't the type to bubble over in giggles (never had been) she appreciated the levity from the children, always did.  Flying class, in its own way, was serious, but at its core, it was sharing in a very old Wizarding tradition, a part of their culture and it should be fun, should it not?

She strode very quickly out into the breezy out of doors, taking long strides, her broom firmly in her hand beside her.  She hoped Dessa could keep up.

When they'd come to an open place a bit away from the pitch and in view of the lake, twinkling in the sun, Hooch stopped and laid her broom on the ground.

"You know what to do!  Up!"  Hooch snapped her fingers and the broom sprang up into her palm.  Usually, Hooch would start the broom from her grip, without the extra step of laying it down.  But Dessa might need the practice of their classroom excersice.

Hooch swung her leg over to get astride and tucked her legs under.  On the broom, the old witch sat easily with a strong straight posture.  She as at home here.  Maybe Dessa would as well someday.

"And we're off.  Stay close.  Straight and level."  Hooch leaned forward slightly and she was on the move at a fair clip.  Perhaps slightly faster than they usually did in class, but nothing Dessa would hopefully be nervous about.  She seemed a bold Gryffindor anyhow.

Pursing her lips in concentration, Dessa straddled her broom and tried to think light thoughts. The feeling that always accompanied flying slowly began to flood her, like a tingling that started from her core and worked its way inwards. She rose steadily in the air, until she was level with Madam Hooch.

She didn't even have time to grin, however, before the matronly teacher took off like a shot, faster than they'd gone in class, and with more agility. She moved as if she controlled the air currents around her. It was the first time in her life that Dessa wished she could move like someone who was--albeit obviously only in the technical sense of the word--elderly.

As she picked up speed to follow the Hooch, the air tousled her curls, and Dessa couldn't refrain from letting out a whoop of delight. "Where are we going?" she shouted over the wind.