17 November, 2009
Tuesday, 3;30pm

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Good! It looked like most of the Hufflepuffs and Slytherins had managed to make it to Flying at the right time - because of today's special class, Hooch had divided the students and so this second group was meeting an hour and a half later. 

Hooch's cheeks and nose were pink from having already spent a day out astride a broom with the Gryffindors and Ravenclaws, and she was feeling brisk and bright.  She was never more happy than being a witch on a broom.  She was wearing a fuzzy white earflap hat, a heavy black cloak, and thick gloves - and from the looks of it, most of the students had dressed smart as well, bundled for a long afternoon in the chill and damp of late November.

She clapped her hands twice.

"As you know, we'll be taking a broom ride all the way to Hogsmeade Village and back today.  Now - who remembers the rules we went over last week, our rules for safety on this trip?  Speak up now."

Blossom was wearing a threadbare coat and had put on an extra sweater, topping it all off with a long Slytherin scarf that he'd won from a third year student in a bet.  He raised his hand.

"Stay with your flying partner and don't try to a slalom using the chimney stacks," he said, trying to keep his teeth from chattering.  The rules had been explicitly spelled out.  Anyone who didn't remember then had likely deliberately forgotten.  The earlier class with the Ravenclaws and Gryffindors must have prompted the refresher.

Hooch nodded.  "Thank you, Mr. Rose. Two points."[1]

"You will stay in sight of your partner the entire time and keep a safe distance of any buildings.  What else? Speak up now."

Sometimes it seemed that no matter how often a thing was repeated, someone forgot.  But that's what it was to be eleven- and twelve-years-old.  It was to live as if on a broom, constantly moving forward, with the entire world to explore.

"We won't lift off an inch until I know you remember the rules."

1.	+2 Slytherin; Blossom Rose; answering correctly

Dione had a complicated relationship with winter weather. On one hand, it was aesthetically pleasing. Its quiet nature suited her. On the other, there was no easy way to sign in cold weather gear.

When asked for more, she wiggled her hands out of her white fur muff. The cold air nipped at her bare fingers, so she made the message short and sweet: "Fly low. Stay out of clouds." Her artificial voice was slightly muffled by her scarf, covering up the gem. "Keep together. And no peaking into private homes."

Unable to take the cold anymore, her hands dove back into the muff like rabbits into their burrows. She had a patching pair of mittens tucked away for the actual flight, but she couldn't talk with them on. Once again, she was forced to choose between being comfortable and being understood. How frustrating.

Paetyn hated flying lessons and had a secret contempt for the instructor. She was like... old... and she was kinda straight-forward and brisk. Truthfully, the actual lecture lessons weren't half bad, but Paetyn was simply terrified of heights. When his feet left the ground, his vision narrowed and he started hyperventilating. Today, as he stood before the elderly witch, he was clad in several layers, jackets and sweaters over hoods and caps. His hands were heavily gloved and he had three pair of socks on his feet.

The air was chilly, yes, and it got much colder in the air, but Paetyn mainly wore so many pieces of clothing because he figured if he fell from his broom, the layers would help cushion his fall. Even if he broke some bones, at least he wouldn't die... hopefully.

He stood in stony silence, refusing to answer the witch's questioning, even though he probably could have spouted off a couple extra tips. He was a bit afraid that if he opened his mouth, vomit would pour from his lips. Anxiety always preceded flying. He would have stopped coming and faced the consequences, but he desperately wanted to be a normal wizard, and normal wizards fly, so he toughed it out and just hoped no one would notice how pale and clammy his skin was getting.

"Thank you, Miss Sayer.  Two for Slytherin."[1] 

"There's one more.  Mr. Harper.  You look like there's something begging to get out of you.  Do you remember the last one?"  Hooch had turned towards the Hufflepuff lad who never really managed to get cozy on a broom and always seemed to not be enjoying himself.  He was no Eirene Antonopoulos or Jonas Trevelyan, but he was a stand out this year for the same qualities.  He, of all students, needed to have absorbed this information.

1.	+2 Slytherin; Dione Sayer; answering well

The young Huffler was mortified that he had been singled out in class. In any class other than this one, Paetyn would have happily supplied some information, whether it was accurate or not. It never hurt to try and earn your house a couple extra points, and even though he didn’t admit it often, Paetyn usually had a pretty good memory. Here, in this class, he had no clue what to say.

He paid attention, and he tried his hardest, but the information just didn’t stick. Maybe it was because he was too worried about dying to actually commit the information to memory. “Uh… uhm…” Paetyn mumbled, his voice muffled by the scarf twined around his neck. He was tempted to yell out ‘don’t eat yellow snow’, but he figured that wouldn’t be what Hooch was looking for.

Pulling down his scarf to talk easier, Paetyn spouted out the first thing that came to his mind, “If you get lightheaded and dizzy, lower your altitude and try to regulate your breathing. This isn’t a game of Quidditch, so don’t try and knock each other off their brooms. Ooh, and if we fall off our broom, or get attacked by flying birds or something equally terrible, we should shoot up sparks so you’ll come save us.” I guess he had remembered a bit more than he thought…

“Uh… you would come save us, right?” He asked shyly, not really wanting the rest of the class to know how scared he really was.

Hooch looked a little worried just how, worried that Paetyn looked like he might be sick all over his scarf.  But instead, he blurt out a whole litany of good advice all in one breath, and tucked in with the rest was something she wanted to be sure they all rememered.  Red sparks.

"Thank you, Mr. Harper.  That will do nicely.  Two points for Hufflepuff."[1]

"As you all likely remember from Charms class and our discussion last week, the spell for Red Sparks[2] is a universal signal for help in the magical world.  It's a very simple spell to cast.  Wands out! Let's all give it a try."

Hooch drew her wand and with a sharp flick skywards she cast the spell.  "Periculum!"  A jet of red light shot into the air, and soon after a spread of twenty other spells followed after.  When all had a go, the old witch sent up a spark of blue light to indicate and all-clear and then:

"Bundle up now, everyone, and find your partner.  Brooms up! Get astride!"  She spoke loudly over the chorus of Up!s as everyone mounted their brooms. 

"I'll go first, and you'll all follow me in pairs.  Stay close!"  She didn't say so, but lacking an assistant, she'd have to periodically circle back to check up on those at the end. 

"Ready now?"  She put her whistle between her teeth and blew.  They were off! She pushed off the ground and rose into the sky, her ducklings following behind.

1.	+2 Hufflepuff; Paetyn Harper; answering well
2.	The Red Sparks Charm

Alice was cold. She shifted her weight from on foot to the other quickly, trying to get the blood flowing. Alice listened happily to Hooch as she explained their flight. She was excited. No, Alice wasn't a good flyer by any means, but she did like the feeling of the wind. Maybe not as much, today, but all the same, she was excited.

Hooch told them to pair up, so she walked over to Paetyn. Alice smiled a little, before saying, "Do you want to be partners? I'm not the best flyer, and would rather stay on the ground more than anything, but maybe, we could fly as partners?" She smiled, hoping he'd accept.

Alice knew that he was nervous. She had been too for a while, until the Quidditch game when she found a new fear worse than flying- flying as bludgers are being hit towards you.

Flying was old hat for Blossom now.  He didn't even look down at the broom when he called it up to his hand.  He looked at Rico.  There was no discussion.  They were partners.  The bond between them was stronger than it had any right to be.  They should have been at each other's throats because of the centuries old feud between their families but instead they were roommates, partners in crime and best friends.

Rico's sister Mercedes looked willing to carry her family's banner into the fight; she seemed to despise Blossom.  Not Rico, though.  Rico and Blossom had agreed months earlier that, not only would they not carry on their respective sides of the feud, they would actively work to settle the matter and remove the curse that had plagued the Rose family for so many generations.

"No racing,"  Blossom said with a grin.

"Only if you promise not to shoot frozen twigs at me" Rico joked and lightly landing a fist on Blossom's shoulder in playful manner. He knew what strength was going to take off someone's arm by now, enough people had winced when he threw his playful punches for him to get the point. Even in the blastingly freezing winter, Blossom's skin looked a bright, he was no longer the monotone child Rico had met while dueling a fourth year on the first night at school, not the kid who had lost big time in the duel they had battled after classes.

Rico stuck out his hand for his broom and mounted it with a comfort only years of flying would bring. He sat easily on his broom, he had found the oldest, most worn broom and it was like slipping on an old pair of worn shoes. "You ready for this? We actually get to go somewhere other than up and around the pitch!" Rico would have jumped up and down if it weren't for the broom between his legs.

Dione slipped her hands from the muff to her mittens and, on Madame Hooch's signal, clicked the thick heels of her boots. The broom leapt effortlessly into her hand. In truth, she had no fondness for the contraptions -- she much preferred the flying carpets she'd tried on her last overseas vacation -- but learning to fly a broom was a matter of status within the class. She would not be caught dead loafing behind with the scaredy-cat Hufflepuffs.

She glanced to her left, catching Mercedes's eye. They'd agreed ahead of time to fly together and worked out a series of simple hand gestures Dione could use to communicate mid-flight in spite of the mittens. Dione motioned to Sadie with one hand -- a four-fingered mitten-point towards the Slytherin boys' backs and the come-hither gesture for both 'lift off' and 'come on.' Their instructor rose steadily further into the air, leaving them neither the time nor the means to chat aimlessly on the ground.

Once Sadie got the message, Dione kicked off as gracefully as she could manage. She bobbed like a soap bubble into the cold winter air and hovered just below and behind their Madam Hooch, gesturing again for Sadie to keep up.

They got on with their trip.  Hooch led them at an easy pace while they navigated the castle proper.  They had to rise out of the courtyard and over a roof.  For fun, she led them under an arcade of high, wide arches and soon they were gliding more or less north east over the hilly grounds as the wind whipped around them. 

Hooch checked over her shoulder at her brood, the Hufflepuffs and Slytherins, as the followed along.  There were some wobbles, but everyone was doing well.

"Both hands, please!" she shouted out seeing someone not holding the broom properly. 

Past the greenhouses, and then Hooch made sure to steer them well wide of the Whomping Willow, but also not get too close to the Forbidden Forest which they could see on their right. 




A map for reference... link

"Both hands, please!"

Blossom turned crimson.  He'd been caught trying to touch the inside of the arch they were flying under.  Hooch must have had eyes in the back of her head.  It was uncanny how the hawk-eyed witch saw EVERYTHING.

He debated daring Rico to play chicken with the whomping willow but his earlier assessment of the tree had vastly underestimated its mobility and reaction speed.  It wasn't an error he planned to make again.

"I wonder if she'll let us race back,"  Blossom pondered aloud.  "I think we'd be able to pull off a Slytherin sweep, one, two, three, four." He looked around to see if there were any Hufflepuffs within hearing range.  There would be no point if there wasn't.  "You know, like the last Quidditch game."

They all spend on and soon they were coming up on the impressive Hogwarts gates, shut tight against visitors.  Flanking the enormous iron apparatus were two winged, pig-faced gargoyles, looking stony and vigilant.

As they approached the gate, Hooch dipped low.  She wouldn't lead the class over, but through!  But the gates were not open, and looking very cold and solid indeed.

But Hooch did not slow, no not a bit.  But as she approached, just in time, the gates creaked open to let the Flying class through.  She nodded a thanks to the stone watchers as she sped on along the woody road.  She was glad of being on her broom - the road was wet with puddles and pot holes and muck.  Ah, witches were born to be on broomsticks!

"Almost there!  You can do it!" 

The students' endurance had been building, but keeping a good grip and good posture wasn't like relaxing in a chair.  It required some practice to keep steady over long distances. 

Soon, the steep roofs of Hogsmeade Village came into view, their spindly smokestacks puffing out warm smoke.