September 16, 2008
Tuesday, 5pm




In the first class (Sept 2), everyone got acquainted with getting a broom up, and some close-to-the-ground flying.  In the second class (Sept 9) we continued to practice close-to-the-ground flying, this time doing much more turning and stopping.  Students probably gathered from these first few lessons together that Madam Hooch is very no-nonsense and demands attention when she's talking.  Horse-players would have been smartly corrected. 

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Madam Xiomara Hooch had been teaching ten- and eleven-year-olds to fly for nearly 50 years.  Of course, every group of First Years were different.  Some had talented stand-outs.  Others tended to shine in the injuries department.  Yet others were chock full of muggleborns with no background and ability at all.  She was still getting a read on this year's group of students.  It was her first year out of a failed retirement and she was eager to get back out on the grounds, and line up those forty brooms in rows on the grass. 

"Alright," she called, as the young witches and wizards began appearing out of castle doors and trundling down the sloped grassy lawn.  "You know what to do.  Select a broom and practice calling it up.  Some of you are still having some trouble there.  No flying just yet, and I mean that.  We'll have plenty of chance for that."

And so she stood, in the same cross-armed stance she always took.  Her gloved arms folded across her chest, her black and white robes, her spiky gray hair lit like a crown.

Out of all her classes, it was flying that Mairead stood to really, truly, excel at.  Even with having skipped her first class.  There were no textbooks, no note taking, no sitting in desks and no wand waving.  It was all about clamoring stride something and riding it, fearlessly, and viewing the prospects of a fall as part of the excitement.  Granted - brooms that flew were entirely novel, but Mairead had been riding - horses - since before she could walk.  Back home, she was more than accustomed to leaping onto her own stallion (whose shoulders stood almost six feet off the ground - high enough to almost count as flying to a girl that stood less than four feet herself) and racing along the road or beach.  And, falling came with it. 

Her first class (the group's second class) had gone well.  Mairead had already made up her missed class and had, quickly, grown comfortable with commanding the broom to pop up from the ground. 

With an eagerness she showed with very few other classes, Mairead darted forward to grab 'her' broom from the collection of school brooms.  It was easily recognizable by the small charred spot on the underside of the handle which hinted at some previous student's attempts to take out their frustration on the broom.  The brooms 'punishment' had labeled the broom as the mischievous underdog in Mairead's mind and she'd taken to it, immediately. 


Taking a spot with her broom, Mairead grinned at it fondly (yes, it wasn't a living, breathing, snorting horse, but she could still be fond of it) before holding her hand over it.  "Anios," Mairead commanded, as if she were telling her dog to stand up.  She'd been delighted to discover the brooms were bilingual.  (Or, it didn't matter what language it was if the user's intention was right - as the instructor had explained.  But, that sounded too complex to be cool so Mairead chose to believe her broom was bilingual.)  The broom bucked slightly (who wouldn't want a slightly tenacious mount?) but, on the second "Anios," it popped up into her hand. 

(Note: If the whole bilingual thing doesn't fly, feel free to let me know - I figured, since they eventually don't need the incantation it was the type of thing where the thought counts.)

Eirene had mixed feelings about this whole flying thing. No matter how much she tried to greet the instructor nicely, and no matter how many fruit baskets she brought, Madam Hooch seemed wholly unconcerned about niceties and completely focused on actual flying ability. Which would be fine, if Eirene felt confident in that area. But she didn’t. It wasn’t something she could study for, either, even though she’d tried! All of the books in the library were about pro-quidditch feints and moves, or they were self-help books like ‘How Becca got her Broom Back’. None of it was helpful for first-years!

She sighed, standing perfectly still until the instructor told them to select a broom and call it up. Eirene reluctantly moved forward, sending offended looks at anyone who dared to jostle her in their rush to pick out the best ones.

Selecting an especially skinny one, with a few of the broom’s bristles bent at the end, Eirene wiped off the dirt and looked it over critically. Brooms just didn’t make any sense. Ponies and abraxans were much more practical, and she felt comfortable around those animals.

Part of the problem was that her mother had scared her stiff with horror stories about flying injuries. She had never let Eirene near a broom- not even a toy model! One time, Eirene had expressed interest in the latest Firebolt (mostly because every other kid she knew had one), and her mother had replied with a stern ‘no’. Of course, Eirene had then asked ‘why’, and that’s when her mother had detailed all the Quidditch and flying injuries she’d seen over the course of her Healing career.

Eirene placed the broom on the ground and stared at it warily. She wanted to fly well so she could get a good grade, but she didn’t really want to fly for the sake of flying.

“Up!” She said with fake confidence, immediately glancing over at the other students to see how they were doing. She repeated the command a few more times, until she noticed Mairead’s broom shoot up into her hand. Eirene’s still rested lifelessly on the ground.

“Anios?” she mimicked Mairead quietly, her voice more confused now. Eirene tried that a few more times, then looked at the first-year closest to her and whispered in a whine, “Why does it work for her but it doesn’t work for me?”

The love of flying was yet another thing that Keegan shared with Mairead, that and the love of torturing Eirene. Ever since that first class, Keegan found himself looking forward to this one day a week of wind and adrenaline rushing joy. The teacher had struck him as a bit of a mountainy hag, but he quickly realized that despite her lack of 'humor' she was an excellent teacher. Or maybe Keegan was just a natural student. After all, this was the one class he was actually excelling in.

"Up!" He ordered the broom firmly, as though it were a dog, and it obediently agreed, though the ends tugged downward a little in an attempt to ignore his order. Boy, his mum would have had a good laugh if she had heard of an opinionated and stubborn broom! He could hear her now 'what rubbish. Wooden things havin' thoughts and feelings. Bloody bullocks, that's what they are teachin ye at that school are they?' He didn't find it that hard to believe, after all, he had met Eirene.

“Why does it work for her but it doesn’t work for me?”

Ah and speak of the devil. He glanced over as Spitz started to whine about her very insubordinate broom and Keegan glanced at Mai before snickering. Leaning towards his best mate, he whispered loudly to her "I'd imagine it's like training a dog... Ya gotta be smarter then it..."

Pax frowned a little at Keegan, then looked away quickly. He hadn't heard what he'd said to Mairead, but he'd noted the unkind snickering and had a feeling it was at Eirene's expense. One the one hand, it was nice that the two Gryffindors actually liked this class and did well in it; one the other, couldn't Keegan be a good sport about it? So this was the one class where Eirene didn't excel. Big deal. Not everyone needed to know how to fly a broomstick. It was like bicycle profiency lessons at his old primary school, and those hadn't even been obligatory. It was obviously bothering Eirene that she wasn't picking it up right away though.

Turning to Eirene he explained as best he could, 'Well, I think Mairead likes flying. Maybe the broom can tell she really wants to be in the air.' She was good at it too, even after missing the first lesson. Pax couldn't help but be impressed. 'It's not what you say so much as how you say it, I think. Look. UP!' he called out to his broom, his tone matter-of-fact, his hand patiently extended. The broom slowly lifted up to meet it.

'Helps if you've got a good broom too,' he added. 'And it takes practice sometimes. My dad taught me to fly when I was younger, and it took me ages to get the hang of it.' Pax was grateful for knowing his way around a broom before he even came to Hogwarts; like everything else, it didn't come naturally to him, and he had the feeling that if it hadn't been for his dad teaching him, he'd be struggling just as much as Eirene right now. Pax knew flying wasn't the most important skill he could learn, but that didn't stop him from entertaining daydream visions of playing Quidditch for his house one day.

Madam Hooch let the students have at it on their own for a while.  Sometimes that was better learning than a teacher hovering over making every little correction.  If they could solve problems among themselves, through trial and error - they were doing more than learning to fly.  She strode down the aisle between the brooms as a small knot of students sorted themselves out.

The little Irish girl, Mairead, was a firecracker and more than a few exhasperated exclamations were shouted about her in the staff room.  Bombay had a particular acid for her - even Mainwairing had had a brush with her.  It seemed Madam Hooch had lucked out.  But it was true though - flying brought out the best in some students who might normally be terrors cooped up in the castle.

Keegan and Pax also had the knack and could order their broom up and down with relative ease.   They were both rather confident lads, anyhow.  Pax being generally agreeable, but Keegan sporting an attitude that make Hooch predict an incident before the term was out.  But at least they were both offering some sort of help to Eirene.

Oh Eirene.  As Hooch had warned her on day one, whining won't get you far out here.  She'd told her she had to be independent and buckle down.  But every little hiccup the girl seemed to defeat herself.  She'd get the hang of it yet, but again, she'd have to overcome more than broom handling to do it.

"That's it, that's it," she said in a strong voice that was accostomed to speaking over brisk Scottish winds and a chorus of children shouting 'Up!'. 

"That's it, once you've got it hovering, pick it up and drop it and try again.  Quickly now."

Adley was an adventurous child, but not in the traditional, sporty, rough-housing way that so many people expected of an eleven-year-old. A natural inclination for slyness had lead the seemingly well-dressed, well-behaved little lion to conduct his troublemaking in shadows... well, until the recent turn of events that could be most simply described as Gryffindor.

The hat had shocked even Adley, who had, despite his striking independence, expected to join the green and silver children of Salazar Slytherin-- just like his father. Just like Calix. Even Ravenclaw would have been suitable for his family. There were a sprinkling of those wise birds in the Rothwell line. But when he’d been placed with new friends, the pair of muggleborns who were undoubtedly the last two children his father would want him around, and thus were the first two children Adley gravitated toward (perhaps Effie had had a hand in it, too), he’d been shocked. The smile didn’t appear on his face until he was halfway to the table. The sound hadn’t even reached his little ears. But then he’d embraced the idea; whatever had come over him he assumed came over everyone, as special as Adley sometimes wanted to be. He belonged to Gryffindor.

The instructor’s voice floated back into his mind. His intense blue gaze had remained on her, despite the fact that his mind had wandered. He looked every bit the apt child. With Keegan beside him, Adley stirred back into action, calling his broom in the usual manner.

His father had never offered him a broom. It had been strange. After his mother’s ‘incident’, they’d raised Adley mostly indoors. His knack for getting into things usually had to do with dusty attics and jewelry boxes full of heirlooms, or book cases and drawers of old letters. When he did manage to get outdoors, he reveled in navigating the streets on his own, or making his way down to the river and trying to conduct magic with regular old branches. Make believe. Like a normal child playing pirate.

“Up!” Adley commanded, chiming in with Mairead and Keegan (though the former had used her own little word to get her broom’s attention). In seeing how well his new friends took to the lessons, Adley had been inspired to give it a good try. No one would ever look at him and scream future quidditch star. But he’d actually rather liked it, and his smallness, he’d found, was a plus.

His broom floated into his hand, though not quite as easily as Keegan’s had-- which made Adley curious, and all the more encouraged to get bend the broom to his will. Rather than asking how do you speak to it?, he’d been on the verge of leaning around his taller, sandy-haired friend and telling Eirene Anronopoulos to shut. up., but Keegan had beat him to the punch, and Mairead could undoubtedly fend for herself against Effie’s animated ragdoll. Still, it was hard to resist...

“And since you’re already Effie’s dog...” He trailed off, just as Madam Hooch demanded they stop. Keeping quiet, Adley threw a glance at the Wintergreen boy. Today’s diplomat. Clearly the poor soul hadn’t spent as much time on ‘play dates’ with Eirene as Adley been forced to do. They’d usually ended in some kind of dramatic scene-- ruined tea tables, beheaded teddy bears, treats that weren’t really treats.

“Up,” he said again, his eyes flicking back to the broom he’d just dropped. This time it reached his small grasp more smoothly.

Miss Anti-pus had made it to all three classes and, even so, her wand still lay dead still on the ground.  There was no doubt that, in most classes, Eirene as leagues ahead of Mairead - History of Magic, Transfiguration and all those other classes Eirene always made look easy.  For once, the tables were turned and Mairead could do a little gloating.  It was a like a powerful vaccine for the ego. 

Mairead leaned her head forward slightly and tried to make eye contact as she smirked down the line of students at Eirene.  She let her own broom fall back to the ground and, with a clear voice, called the broom back into her hand.  Very smoothly and loudly.  And, again.  And, again. 

She hadn't heard Eirene's hushed whining but there was no missing Keegan's murmured response.  Mairead snikkered under her breath, nodding her head.  Between giggles, she whispered loudly, "Eithne's pretty smart, too.  I bet she could ride a broom no problem."  Of course, it was unlikely her wolfhound mix could ride a broom.  Not being able to speak and having no thumbs were, probably, an insurmountable challenge. 

Her broom bucked slightly as Mairead snorted when she heard Adley's comment and nodded approvingly.  But, at the instructor's encouragement, Mairead turned back to commanding her broom.  This Madame Hooch was, likely, one of the few of their professors that Mairead stood to impress and she was determined to do so. 

Hooch watched as Mairead repeatedly called the broom up and threw it to the ground.  Goodness! This one had a mean-streak in her.  Madam Hooch wasn't quite sure what was in that little girl's head but it wasn't quite normal.  But then all the students in this group were sort of odd balls.

She placed a hand on Mairead's shoulder to perhaps calm that mad drive, but spoke out to the whole class.

"That will do! That will do fine.  Now, mount up and I want to see some nice smooth laps down to that great oak and back.  Keep low to the ground, just like we've been practicing.  Watch out for one another and hold on! You must wait until I've blown the whistle.  Back down off the broom and you'll start when all the others have begun!"  Madam Hooch's yellow hawk's eyes had fallen upon an eager student who'd broken classroom regulation and had went a head without the whistle.  This one would have to stay behind for a few moments - eternity for an eleven year old.

"All right. Like I said - easy now!" Tweeeeet!  Hooch trilled her silver whistle and class had begun.

Eirene looked around the grounds frantically. She thought about trying to be sneaky and picking up her broom when the instructor wasn’t looking, but then she imagined getting caught, which wiped that plan clean out of her head. Still, she had to do something! The Gryffindor gang was smirking, snickering, and in general being Very Mean. Eirene let out a loud huff. Madam Hooch looked at her with what could only be described as an exasperated expression.

“Shut up!” She burst out at Mairead and company after another round of dog comments.

Eirene pouted at the professor, frustrated to hear her encouraging everyone else, and finally turned towards Pax.

“I know all that,” she answered him testily, than lowered her voice in a whisper. “But my mother never let me have a broom, she always said it was too dangerous, and so I couldn’t practice before coming to Hogwarts, and now I just look like… like an idiot!”

Eirene stared at the broom again, failing to realize that she was spending much more time worrying about other people than she was thinking about commanding the stubborn stick into her grasp.

She glared at the broom, completely focused on how much she wanted to succeed, impress the teacher, and avoid harassment from her peers.

“Up!” She said very bossily,  surprised when the broom actually raised a foot off the ground. There it hovered, hesitating. Eirene threw a quick glance at Madam Hooch, then bent to snatch it before it got any ideas about falling.

“I got it!” Eirene told Pax, smiling despite the fact that she hadn’t quite gotten the hang of it. “Thanks,” she added suddenly, remembering his advice about how to call up the broom with confidence.

Not about to risk embarrassing herself again, she kept the broom in her hand until the instructor soon asked them to fly a few low laps around the great oak. Eirene looked at her as if she was insane. Shouldn’t they go over the safety tips and any potential disciplinary measures, first? She shot a warning glare at Mairead, straddled the broom carefully, and began flying when she heard the whistle.

Eirene moved along at a flobberworm’s pace, staying so close to the ground that she scuffed the tips of her shoes a few times by accident. What had her mother said? Something about keeping ‘at least three broom lengths between herself and the flyer ahead of her’. She glanced up to see where her peers were, then hurriedly looked back down. Her knuckles turned white as she clutched the broom, afraid that if she relaxed, she would fall.

Keegan joined in on Mai and Adley's snickers and then summoned and dropped his broom a couple more times, just for the heck of it. It wasn't perfectly smooth, but it was certainly a lot better then Eirene could do. Glancing over eagerly, hoping to see the look of envy on her pouting face, Keegan frowned when he saw that Pax had completely stolen her attention and was, of all things, consoling her.

'Helps if you've got a good broom too, And it takes practice sometimes. My dad taught me to fly when I was younger, and it took me ages to get the hang of it.'

"Well ain't we bloody lucky..." Keegan sneered at Wintergreen's goody-two-shoes act. Why didn't he just snog Eirene and get it over with? Keegan was almost certain he had some sick crush on her. Why else would he act so nice? It wasn't like it was an easy task with a scanger like Spitz. And the whole 'My daddy helped me' did little to endear Keegan to the Hufflepuff boy. As a bastard, he tended to envy those who had them, and Keegan hated feeling envious. Lucky for Pax, Eirene opened her mouth and redirected all Keegan's pent up irritation solely on her.

“I know all that, But my mother never let me have a broom, she always said it was too dangerous, and so I couldn’t practice before coming to Hogwarts, and now I just look like… like an idiot!”

Keegan's eyes couldn't have rolled more if he had dislodged them and given them a good toss. "Bullocks. Me and Mai are mudbloods... we ain't even seen a broom before we got here and we are naturals, ain't we Mai?" He grinned at Mai, urging her to add on any little snarky comments. But the teacher put a stop to their fun, walking up to their small gathering and placing her hand on Maireads shoulder, her unnatural eyes staring them down with predatory alertness. He snapped to attention.

"That will do! That will do fine.  Now, mount up and I want to see some nice smooth laps down to that great oak and back.  Keep low to the ground, just like we've been practicing.  Watch out for one another and hold on! You must wait until I've blown the whistle.  Back down off the broom and you'll start when all the others have begun!"

Keegan tossed his leg over his broom and settled down on the surprisingly comfortable shaft. He recalled, vaguely, reading something about them being enchanted with a cushioning spell or something. Once again, he mentally thanked whatever angel was looking over him for blessing him with such an awesome ability. No other kid on his block could attest that they had flown before... Well, flown and not broken a couple bones thanks to the inevitable gravity. Keegan rocked back and forth on his heels, ready to blast off at moments notice.

TWEEET! her whistle shrieking so loudly that it left him deaf for a moment and Keegan didn't kick off right away, as planned, since he was left trying to get his ears to stop ringing. To his horror, he realized that Spitz had managed to get ahead of him during his pause. Kicking off, he leaned low on the broom like he had learned to do when bike racing, and quickly caught up with the overly cautious Eirene. The nerves were showing on her face and Keegan couldn't help but mess with her. Speeding up, he suddenly swerved quickly, cutting her off so closely that the twigs of his broom brushed the shaft of hers. Looking back, he sneered at her and stuck his tongue out, before pushing farther ahead.

A slow smirk slid across Mairead's face and she glanced, victoriously, over at Eirene as the girl yelled at her to shut up.  "It is probably a bit -"  Mairead started to add another hypothesis for the source of Eirene's flying incompetency but a hand grasped her shoulder.  The gesture brought Mairead's attention to Madame Hooch and Mairead, quickly, abandoned her comment.  She looked at the instructor and offered a grin before turning back to her broom.

The gesture would, likely, calm Mairead for a few moments.  At least until Eirene did something stupid, again. 

Then, they were given the go ahead to get on their brooms.  Without hesitation, Mairead tossed herself onto her broom and kicked off the ground.  The broomstick wasn't nearly as comfortable as a horse's back and it unnerved Mairead slightly that there was nothing between her knees but, despite those differences, she'd taken to flying quite readily. 

And, she was eager to get going.  Mairead leaned forward and the broom bucked forward.  She was ready to go!  Get moving and fly!  But, the broom had lurched forward just a few moments before the whistle sounded and Mairead was called back by Madame Hooch.  She hesitated a moment, watching the older woman, trying to decide how much it was worth to continue forward anyways but, finally, she touched back down and clamored down from the broom.  This was one class she didn't want to get kicked out of!  "How long I got to wait?" Mairead asked, impatiently.  "Can I go, now?"

As the class shot off at a diverse amount of speed and stability, Madam Hooch kept Mairead at her side.  Mairead had already proven herself a quick hand at broomstickery, and so the old witch wasn't worried that she'd miss the extra practice that other students like Antonopoulos might need.   Madam Hooch keep Mairead just a moment more, but then finally gave the little Gryffindor a firm pat on the back.

"Off ye get."

As the students made their way around the little course, Hooch stood sentry with her own broom at her side.  She could mount it and catch up to these students in the blink of an eye.  But like so many masters of physical arts, she rarely took to her broom in class.  Student discovery was important.  But of course, in a safety situation, she'd be at the scene in half a breath.

Her brows furrowed a moment later.  Keegan Kearney had just swerved towards Eirene who didn't need that kind of stress.  But for the time being, Madam Hooch stood her post.  Kids this age needed to expend that kind of energy.  Hooch was well aware that some of her colleagues depended on her for just such a floo.  The kids were cooped up in classes and castles all day - they knew that flying class let them blow off the pent up steam.

"Today is about falling," she announced as the last of the students finished their warm up laps.  "Even the most skilled of fliers take falls.  And if you're intending to play Quidditch, you'll be falling frequently from heights exceeding a hundred feet.  Now there are cushioning charms, and spells to hold you on your broom.  All sorts of ways that we might rely on magic to keep us safe.  But it won't always work so we've got to be ready."

She stated all of this matter-of-factly, and without alarm in her tone.  Level and firm was the way to speak about such things. 

"Raise your hand: when you're falling, how might you prepare yourself to land safely? What might you do with your body to prevent injury once you meet up with the turf?  Remember, take magic out of the equation for a mome -"  She paused and glowered at at student who was covertly trying to instigate some sort of sword fight with his broom handle.  Not even two minutes of standing still and keeping hushed up was bearable for students this age.

"Accio broom!" Madam Hooch barked and the offending student's broom snapped from his grasp to hers. 

"As I was saying, who's got an idea?"

Pax grinned a small, embarrassed sort of grin as Madam Hooch talked about falling. He'd had some experience of that from learning to fly when he was younger. Of course, it was nothing big or terrifying to boast about; his dad (and for that matter, his mum) had always tended toward ensuring he didn't fly too far from the ground. Keeping about a foot off the ground during those laps around the oak tree was an easy habit for him, as was flying slowly and steadily rather than quickly and daringly. Certainly he entertained fantasies of swooping around in the sky, dodging bludgers and catching quaffles, but he was never quite sure of how he could get to that level. He just wasn't a natural like Mairead and Keegan were.

He imagined falling, not from a few feet in the air like we was used to, but from the dizzying heights of the quidditch pitch, and bit the inside of his cheek anxiously, wondering if his usual instinct when falling would work from that great a height. He raised his hand. 'Would it work if you sort of, like, curl up a bit, kind of, and try to roll when you hit the ground?' He glanced fretfully around at his classmates, as though expecting to find someone laughing at his ignorance.