Remedial Flying #1
19 January 2010
Tuesday, 1pm

Attendance

☑ Noah Pratt 1
☑ Paetyn Harper 1
☐ Winifred Oliver 4
☑ Wynter Frost 1
☑ Lucas Trumble 1
☑ Dione Sayer 1

If you are not on this roster, you are still welcome to attend.  The only requirement is that your character has not yet passed Flying.

It was cold but at least it wasn't raining. [1]

Hooch stood before the little knot of mismatched students.  Many of them were looking a bit glum.  So few looked as forward to Remedial Flying as they did to its shinier sister class simply called Flying.  These were the students who had yet to pass the required broomstick flying course offered in the first term of the first year, and there was even a student among them who had already attempted Remedial Flying and was here a second time. 

There were always rumors about Remedial Flying, morality tails told to First Years to help motivate them to do well their first go at the class, but they were mostly all quite false.  There were many reasons a student might fail flying but the chief among them were these: a genuine fear of being aloft, or a disruptive or reckless attitude about brooms.  She saw both cases before her today and in a pedagogical challenge, they required very different types of instruction to bring them round. 

"Apologies that we didn't get started last week as we planned, but we'll still have plenty to time to get you all air-worthy.  Now, I don't want anyone to be down on themselves," she said to them sternly.  "It takes some students a few months and it takes others a few months more.   There's no shame in that."

She did cast a wary eye at Trumble who did have a great deal to be ashamed about, with last term's gallavanting around.

"Despite what you may have heard, you're not here to be punished.  We're here to fly and there's nothing under the sun more fun than that, I assure you.  Are there any questions before we get started today?"

Hooch rested her fists on her hips and looked over the little group, waiting expectantly for their comments.  And there always were some.  Best to get them out early so they could get started.

1.	AO's Weather Almanac

Wynter stood a little to the side of the other students that were there for the remedial flying class.  Truthfully, she didn't want to be here this time any more than she had wanted to be at the first Flying class that was mandatory for all first years.  It wasn't the broom, or the height that made her nervous, it was the feeling that she wasn't in control - even though she was.

She heard the professor ask if there were any questions, and while there were several running through Wynter's head right now, she simply could not find the voice to say them out loud.  Instead she shuffled her feet back and forth, hoping that the weather would get worse and they would have to postpone the class for another day.

She looked at the other students and wondered if any of them had her problem with a fear of being out of control.  She couldn't understand what was so necessary about learning to fly a broom.  Wynter got around just fine with her own two feet.  She fidgeted a bit more as she waited, still hoping for some bad weather to come and save her from embarassing herself.

Lucas rubbed the back of his neck and shrugged when Professor Hooch looked at him. He messed it up for himself last semester and he knew it. It was just too much fun to taunt the other people and make them feel like they were about to fall or distract them by doing something he shouldn't be doing. He couldn't help it! They had all just made it too easy for him.

This time was going to be different. He was going to pay attention and stay focused. He knew he had to. He had to stay focused on school and do well. It was going to be hard with everything he was going through, but he was going to try his best. Not only that, he was almost too tired to mess with anyone for the time being. He was trying to get his sleep schedule worked out and such. He didn't have much energy as of late. The energy he did have he needed to focus on school.

He really didn't have any questions about the beginning of the class as he had paid attention to that much the last time. All he knew to do was offer the professor an apology for last semesters antics, but he didn't feel like this was the appropriate time for such things.

If Paetyn had a happy meter, he’d have registered flying class as a two. At least he was learning which added for something, but remedial flying was a negative seven. There would be nothing new taught, and he’d still be subjected to the torture of flying. He’d try – he always tried, but that didn’t mean that he’d get any better.

The young Hufflepuff shuffled his feet and kicked at the ground beneath his feet. He kinda hoped that it would start raining, that way they’d call off class… but knowing Hooch, they’d be stuck trying to fly through it. The woman was a hawk after all. He had overheard one of the other first years chatting about it, and apparently their flying instructor was actually hatched from an egg at birth, instead of born like everyone else. If she wasn’t such a scary witch, Paetyn might have thought that was kinda cool.

Paetyn stood as far from Lucas as possible, since he was distracting at the best of times… and Paetyn totally thought he could have passed had it not been for Lucas’s taunting and such last term. When the bird-lady asked for questions, Paetyn’s head snapped up and his hand flew into the air. Though he’d asked the exact same question during every class before, he couldn’t help but ask just one more time, “Professor, if we fall… you’ll catch us… right?” He didn’t wanna be a Paetyn-pancake!

Even if she'd been able to ask a question, Dione wouldn't have. She stayed off to the side of the class, trying to get used to the way a broomstick felt without the familiar silver rings on every finger adding some extra distance between herself and the wood. It'd been two weeks since The Incident[1] and she still felt like the world without her translation artifact was an alien one.

That she'd been lumped into remedial flying didn't help matters. She was pureblood, damn it all! She shouldn't have a problem with something as simple as flying. But...brooms. They were so uncouth, there was no way to stay on one and maintain simple dignity. If they'd only been allowed to fly carpets instead, like those wonderful things she'd rode on the last family vacation, she'd have passed with flying colors.

But, sadly, such wonders remained illegal here. And so she stood by, quiet as one of the rain-washed trees, and cocked her head towards Harper when he asked yet again if the Professor could miraculously appear the moment they tipped off their brooms. Dione's shoulders rose and and fell in a silent sigh. Let's get this over with already...

1.	Still in-progress

Oh the shuffling grumbles and down-turned faces and with the not-answering and the impatient loitering.  Hooch would have to compensate for being a touch more cheerful.  She lifted her eyebrows at them, hoping to appear encouraging.  At least Paetyn Harper was brave enough to voice his fears.

"Catch you?" she echoed.  "My my twigs, of course not, Mr. Harper! You know better than that," she said with little laugh that she hoped wasn't overly scolding. 

"As we learned in October, there are ways to fall safely from brooms and so you'll be able to... catch yourself, if you will.  And I do believe that Professor Kesali has covered Cushioning Charms now, yes? A good Cushioning Charm when training is as good as a suit of armor for your confidence."

She grinned.

"But fear not.  We won't be working from such great heights as of yet.  We're going to begin again with the basics.  Everyone, find a broom and lay it on the ground at your right-hand side.  Practice with me now, 'Up!' That's right!"

Hooch had demonstrated as she spoke, laying down her custom-built, hand-twigged, personally enchanted broom on the wet grass beside her.  It leapt into her palm at her command as if it was even eager to be aloft again.

"Think of your broom as your wand.  An object designed to respond to your innate magical talent!  It is not your enemy, it is your tool.  An extension of yourself of your magical identity, yes?  Your command is not a suggestion, or an invitation.  Speak with authority, speak with confidence.  Up!"

She walked among them.  As soon as someone successfully called a broom up, she'd put it right back down on the grass.

"Try again.  There's no rush today.  Keep practicing until it becomes second nature, until it works every time."

When instructed, Dione extended her right hand over the broom. Her frown deepened. Last semester, she'd had her artifact, and the BSL sign for 'up' was so simple it could be performed one-handed. Without that, she had no way to voice her command to the broom.

She tried to follow the instructor's advice, thinking of the broom like her wand. Her wand, the extension of her power, the object that refined her will. She had a better understanding than most first-years when it came to that process. She had to, otherwise she'd never be able to cast spells at all. She could do this. Just reach out, feel the magic, make it real...

Up. Come on now. Up!

...

Nothing. The broom remained on the ground. It did not so much as twitch. Dione's magic, without her wand, was trapped inside her body, unable to reach the motionless hunk of wood and twigs lying by her side. When Madam Hooch passed by Dione stared up at her with wide eyes and a slightly trembling lip. She wondered if she could even communicate what was wrong, or if she'd have to retrieve the pad of parchment from her bag just to be understood.

Oh, right! Hooch had forgotten about the complicated reality of Dione Sayer.  As the Flying instructor came up on her, her broom was sitting firmly in the grass and Dione's chin quivering like she was about to cry.  Now, she'd been able to get through this part before... what was up now?  This wouldn't do, Dione getting discouraged on the first day of a fresh start...

"What's the problem, Sayer?" she asked.  "Broom being a stick in the mud? Well, we can sort him out.  How'd you manage this last year?"  Hooch asked the question even as she tried to remember.  Dione used British Sign Language and had the cuffs that turned her gestures into sounds.  But what was wrong now?

"Ah right - your signing.  Not working today?  Can't give up, you know.  If he won't jump, give him a kick!"

It wasn't the proper way to go about it, really, and it was a trick she rarely shared. But some brooms needed a little bit of vertical motivation... and some students needed an extra tool in their kit.

Lucas stood next to his broom and looked down at it. He had been able to get it to his had after just a few tries last semester. He wondered if this would be any different. He was a little more focused this time and the class was much smaller than before. He was going to learn to fly this time. No jokes. He was a little jealous that his twin had learned with such ease. He was going to show him that he could do it too!

He held his hand out over the broom and tried to focus on it the best he could. "Up!" he called, and frowned as the broom did nothing. Not even a tremble. "Up!" he called out again. This was more difficult than he remembered. After a few more "up"s the broom finally started to move a bit. That was enough to give him the hope he needed. "Up!" he called again, almost yelling. His voice had authority this time. He demanded the broom come to his hand. It finally did and he gripped it tight, happy to finally have the thing in his hand.

He put the broom back on the ground and tried again, this time having to call for it fewer times. He kept practicing until he was able to call the broom one time and it would come to his hand. He was pleased with himself.

Poo, poo, poo, poo, poo! The thoughts in Noah Pratt’s mind were decidedly dirty and smelly as he sprinted full pelt through the entrance courtyard towards the main grounds where their flying lesson was being held. He’d become distracted over lunch and completely forgotten about the fact he was expected at this class after having failed to listen and hence failed the course before Christmas. Now he was taking remedial flying and dealing with his father’s annoyance over the matter.

Distinctly shabby looking and out of breath, Noah finally arrived on the lawn where several of his peers were concentrating so hard on raising shakey broomsticks, looking lost or in deep deep concentration. A couple, Noah remarked silently, appeared to need a visit to the lavatory. He grinned to himself while bending over and trying to regain his breath. Running was tiring work after such a bit tasty lunch!

Why Noah had to failed the class the first time around was beyond the young boy. He’d played quidditch in the backgarden with his dad tons of times. His pa had even been on the school team in his days! Noah could fly! He’d just had to deal with lots of shouting from the teacher. Apparently he wasn’t safe enough. But he was still alive! Auror Pratt was still alive as well!

“Sorry Madam Hooch!” He finally came out with, standing beside a spare broom. “It was ribs for lunch.” And that explained everything.

"Don't just yell at it," Hooch said, momentarily turning away from Miss Sayer to instruct the group at large.  "You sound like a gathering of seagulls!"  (Up! up! Upupupup! Up!)  "One clear command is all you need.  If you need to, walk away, get your breath, and come back renewed, alright?  Yes, nicely done, Trumble!"

Then, oh dear, a straggler.  "There you are, Pratt!  Late! That's two from you house, my friend.  Get your broom up and off the ground because we are ready to move on."[1]

Moving right along...

"Mount up everyone and line up along here.  The game is:" she paused for dramatic effect.  "Follow the leader.  I'll name one of you, the rest will fall in after.  Lead the class around this courtyard, in and out of that arcade over there, and after a few minutes has passed, I'll call out another name.  Keep on your toes, stay together, fly with clarity, got it?"

Whistle to her lips, she tweeted a tone and called out the first name.

Imagine that Hooch called one of you and go for it!

1.	-2 Gryffindor; Noah Pratt

As Hooch told them, in no uncertain terms, that she would be unable to help them if they went ka-splat on the ground, Paetyn couldn’t help but let out a little squeak in fear. It wasn’t the first time he’d gotten such an answer, and every time, fear bubbled up in his tiny little gut. Sure he could kinda sorta perform a cushioning charm, but the chances of being able to pull his wand out of his pocket and cast a spell before hitting the ground were quite slim. So what if they weren’t going to be high enough to get killed? They’d still be up high enough for it to hurt and Paetyn simply wasn’t the best when it came to pain.

He stood next to the broom, held up a shaking arm, and whispered “Up.” Even those students directly to the left and the right of him probably were unable to hear his quiet tones. The broom by his feet lay still, unmoving. Not even a twig twitched. Broomsport simply wasn’t Paetyn’s strong suit. He tried again, louder this time, and before long, the little Hufflepuff was simply screaming at the broom that refused to move an inch. Once, Paetyn felt sure, it moved a little bit (but then again, he did kick it in frustration… so it was bound to move a little). He glanced around a couple times, and when he noticed that their hawkish instructor was looked away, Paetyn bent and grabbed the broom from the ground. Oh well if it didn’t want to work on its own – stupid broom.

Then – when Paetyn thought things couldn’t possibly get any worse – they did. Hooch’s birdlike gaze landed on him and the poor boy realized she must have called his name. Oh no. He simply could not be the leader. “Uhm… uh…” he knew that complaining would fall on deaf ears, so he just gripped the broom tightly and swung a leg over the top. His hands were beyond sweaty, but somehow he managed to stay on the broom. Just like in practice, he kicked off hard and was soon in the air. Before he’d gone even a couple feet, he’d already fallen off. “Oops,” He said, before brushing his tiny hands on his robes and picking up the broom again.

Though he was scared, he was a hardworking Hufflepuff. He’d never give in. “Ouch,” He said, then kicked off again. His flight, the second time, was shaky, and seeing people following him gave an extra bit of anxiety, but he at least managed to stay on his broom. He followed Hooch’s instructions and then looked to her for further instructions. That was a mistake. As he took his eyes from the path before him, the bit of confidence he’d gathered dissipated and the boy tumbled from his broom into the grass below. Thankfully they’d not been going too high up and he only had a couple scrapes and grass stains on his robes. He’d live – but maybe Hooch would have a bit of sympathy and let him not fly any more. Ever.

At first the whole endeavor seemed like a bad mistake, expecting too much too early.  It was less a well-organized flying formation so much as a bumping, messy clump as the small cluster of students attempted to match speed and spacing.  Paetyn Harper seemed to have enough sense to keep it slow and simple at first, but he was still just as shaky and lacking in confidence as he'd been last term.

But that was alright.  It was the first day on a fresh start and she was sure she could help him through.  Especially now that the pressure of being surrounded by a fleet of more adept fliers was off. 

"Good, Harper! Next!"  Hooch fweeted her whistle and called the next name.  She was anticipating another tangle as Harper fell back and the next student found their way up to the front.

"Keep moving!" she encouraged.  "Control your speed!"

Slowly but surely, the students took turns moving to the front and by the time all half-dozen or so had had change, the pack was already looking better.  With a sharp tweet on her whistle, she waved for them all to come back in and gather around her by the fountain.

"Nicely done, nicely done," she told them all.  "Getting back on the broom is half the battle and you've all done so today.  We'll be focusing on proper falling again, so come ready with your Cushioning Charms - I understand you've all learned them by now.  Dismissed!"

And with a tweet of her whistle, she sent the students off to the rest of their day.