Caught off Guard: The Hooligan of Hogwarts

Caught Off Guard: The Hooligan of Hogwarts

Chapter 2: Part 1

          “Tuesday classes will be spent lecture style: analyzing theories and understanding terminology. Your assignment for the week will always be the same.” Madam Hooch’s knee-high flying boots clacked dramatically on the wooden floor as she firmly planted each footfall. Keeping her hands on her hips and flaring her over-cape around her robes, she paced in front of the ten students seated before her.  “Each Friday, we will convene at the Quidditch Pitch where, one by one, you will hand in a physical rendering – on parchment - of a proposed flight plan based on that week’s lesson. Of which you will then be expected to execute in the air.”

          Listening to Mme. Hooch’s opening remarks, Ron and Harry knew that Vectors was going to be a class unlike any other. It loosely reminded them of Prof. Lupin’s Defense Against the Dark Arts class. Only, it would surpass it. Recalling what Ron had said at breakfast Monday morning, what class could compete with being in the air, on one’s broom, on a Friday afternoon as the last lesson of week before the weekend? Harry could not come up with one viable example.

           That’s why Mme. Hooch’s demeanor was such a welcomed change. No pre-amble. No fire and brimstone speech (that they had come to expect at the beginning of the first lesson of each of their classes of the new school term) as to how challenging the class was going to be. Every other professor made it their mission to impress the level of difficulty and standards they would be expecting from all the students enrolled in their classes. If Harry and Ron had to hear the phrase, because you chose to be here…, one more time, they both agreed that it would become an ear-worm that would drive them to madness.

          Prof. Snape, head of Slytherin House, did not mince words when he blatantly stated that perfection was going to be the only curve by which they were going to be graded. The syllabus Prof. McGonagall handed out was the most challenging she had created to date.  Defense Against the Darkest Arts opened with a psychological evaluation to make sure that they were mentally healthy enough to handle the rigors of countering the Dark Magic which was scheduled to be explored. Ghostly Prof. Binns’s History of Magic 360 ascended to a whole new level of impossible-to-pay-attention-even-if-I-wanted-too monotone dullness. Even Prof. Flitwick, the Ravenclaw patriarch and one of the more popular teachers, doubled the amount of homework previously assigned. Firenze seemed to be the only teacher nonchalant about the whole affair. Quoting the cryptic, albeit wise, centaur verbatim. “Human lives are but the merest flashes of lights before the eyes of the stars.” 

          By Orion’s Eye, Mme. Hooch - with her sharply enunciated tones, manly stride and absolute command of the material - garnered nothing but unflagging attention from her ten handpicked students.

          Delivering her speech as she walked up and down the aisles, she purposely timed her strides so that she was once again standing squarely at the head of the class. “Attendance and broomsticks are mandatory; they will accompany you to every class.

          Your final project will be the creation of your own broom of your own design. It will meet the criteria and perform to the levels stipulated by this class. The best broom will be determined by its capability of surviving the rigors of a Quidditch match. If it is still in one piece, then it’s design will be submitted to Quality Quidditch Supplies for consideration as their newest model. I do not need to tell you what far-reaching implications that can entail.” Half standing, half sitting on the edge of her desk, “All of you are roughly the same calibre flyer. The only variable will be the quality of your broom.

          A Hufflepuff seated two rows up and one seat to the left of Ron raised her hand, ”Madam Hooch?”

          “Yes.”

          “What about this Friday?”

          Judging by the look on Mme. Hooch’s face, Harry knew that the coming answer wasn’t going to bode well for any of them. It was a replica of what Oliver Wood projected just before he initiated a particularly nasty training session. “This Friday,” clapping her hands together sharply and giving her fingers a greedy twist, “I am going to put all of you through your paces. Make sure you are as good as I assume you are. Then, I am going to tighten you up.” Standing, she marched around her desk and tucked in her chair, scraping its’ legs on the floorboards. “Bring your brooms. Bring a towel. Bring a change of clothes.” Looking at each of them in turn, she let herself indulge in a sincerely wicked promise, “If you don’t, you are going to wish you had.” Reaching for a piece of chalk, she scrawled a loopy over-sized V on the blackboard, “Velocity is actually a formula…”

          “Who knew there was so much vocabulary involved with flying?” Ron was more amazed than complaining as he and Harry collected their things at the end of class. Struggling to get his long legs out from underneath a desk that was entirely too small, who knew we could go a whole session without whispering or looking at each other?

          Harry concurred. “I will not use the word ‘zoom’ ever again.”

          Passing by their instructor’s desk on the way out the door, Draco Malfoy was having a conversation with a grim-faced Mme. Hooch. “Mr. Malfoy. My class consists…”

          The rest of what she was saying, as well as Malfoy’s response, was lost as they crossed the threshold and entered the ebb and flow of a hallway jammed with students going to their next classes and lunch.

          “Did you hear what I said?” Because Harry was on the inside on Ron, he couldn’t see what had captured his mate’s attention.

          “Watch this!” Ron murmured to Harry.

          Bowing graciously and performing his best salaam for a troupe of pretty Gryffindor 5^th years, Ron turned sideways and gallantly waved them ahead of him. “Ladies first!” Listening to them giggle behind their hands and begin to whisper among themselves as they went on their way, Ron had to extend this gratitude for the way their robes draped around their bodies. Not that they’ll ever know. “Anytime, ladies. Anytime.”         

          Smirking only because Ron intercepted the girls before he did, Harry waited for Ron to come along side before nudging him with a well-placed shoulder, “You cad. You just wanted to watch them walk down the hall.” Not having an immediate comeback for the jaunty salute Ron issued in their wake, he had to settle with, for the moment Weasley, “Ever the gentleman.”

          “Swish, my friend. Swish down the hall.” Shrugging his shoulders, Ron sidestepped Harry’s backhanded insult. “Your point being? If I hadn’t, you would have. And then where would you be.” Daring to go one step further, and performing his best Hermione impersonation, “So, if you were to follow your logic in a circular motion, you will see that I actually did you a favour.”

          Only Ron could turn something like this to his advantage. Or go down on a blazing broomstick trying. Harry bit his tongue and decided to play along, “Really. Is that so?”

          Ron gave one of his signature “you’re really going to try that and expect to get away with it without getting hurt?” look to a 6^th year Slytherin who tried to brush him aside. Watching the boy visibly pale, as he had to crane his neck to ascertain whom he was messing with, “Slytherins really should make it a point to get more sun.” Getting back to the topic at hand, “Yes that’s so.” How thick could you be, Harry? “Just imagine if word had gotten ‘round that the Rake of Gryffindor had surfaced for a return engagement.”

          Harry wasn’t sure if he should be flattered by the title or concerned that it sounded suspiciously like something Ron may have read in one of those trashy romance novels that occasionally turned up the Common Room. It does have a nice ring to it, and I did…date a bit last year. ”The Rake of Gryffindor? Aren’t you going a little over the top?” 

          “Why are you repeating everything I’m saying?” Attempting one last time to wind his friend, “What if it got back to you–know-who? Then where would you be?” Ron asked as he watched the girls’ bank to the left and out of sight. Until we meet again.

           “Looking as apprehensive as Malfoy did just now?” Not ready to say her name in a crowded corridor, Harry referred to the blonde haired Slytherin.

          With nothing new to distract him, Ron thought back to their original conversation, “What do you suppose that was all about?”

          “I don’t know.” Knowing that sometimes speaking out loud can help put puzzles pieces into place, “He is Head Boy.”

          “So.” I could care less, “You’re the Gryffindor Quidditch captain. And I’m a Keeper.”

          “Malfoy is the Slytherin captain.” It’s right there, but why can’t I seem to put my tongue on it?

          Impersonating Hermoine again, Ron rolled his eyes disparagingly and looked to the ceiling, “Oh really, Harry.”

          “Wait until Hermione hears that you have been mocking her again.”

          “I’m only having a bit of fun!” Ron blanched. My scars are still pink from her previous retaliation.

           “That’s it!” The missing piece snapped into place. “Hermione!”  I’ve got it!

          “Oh, come on Harry. Hermione and Malfoy? We’re just about to have lunch! That was so un-necessary mate.” Ron clutched his mid-section to further his meaning. ”Completely uncalled for.”

          “As if!” Harry barked. “Let’s just say that the potential for His Royal Pure-Bloodedness to pro-create would be significantly hindered.” Number 2 on the list of “Completely Un-necessary Visual Images, “Not in any lifetime - end of subject!” Switching back to his triumphant outburst, “What I mean is this. Remember what Hermione said the other morning?” Harry mentally urged Ron, come on mate; put it together. You aren’t that thick!

          “You swore that you would never bring that up again! As if I like finding pillows spontaneously appearing in all of my classes isn’t proof positive of the amazing capabilities of the Hogwarts Gossip Mill.” Skewering Harry with a look of you-had-better-tell-me-now-or-you-will-reap-my-vengeance-later, “You mean to say that she was the one who’s been slipping pillows under my arse?” You will so pay, Granger.

          “Yes. No. Stop trying to confuse me, you dolt.” Frustrated, Harry tried again. “Yes, it was her idea. She’s the one making the pillows. No, it’s not her. It’s Dean and Ginny who are… never mind. “ Damn, sidetracked again! Dean’s going to trounce my ass! “Anyway. What did Hermione say the other day about her Head Girl duties?”

          “I forgot.” Ron shook his head wryly. Answering Harry’s unspoken rebuke, “There is such a thing as selective amnesia, you know!” Well, it was worth a try.

          Nice try, Ron.

          “And how, every Friday afternoon,” Harry waved his free hand like he was playing out a length of twine, “she has a meeting….” Am I going to have to draw this daft boy a bloody picture?

          Ron brought his free hand into contact with his forehead with an audible smack, “Gwawd! Why didn’t I see it before! She’s Head Girl, he’s Head Boy and if she has a commitment, very Friday afternoon, then he must…”

          In his head Harry could hear: Give the boy a prize! “Malfoy must have been trying to wheedle his way out of class!”

          Shifting his books to his other hand, Ron slashed at the air in front of his body, “There is NO WAY Madame Hooch is going to let him have his cake and eat it too!”

          Entering the Hall for lunch, Harry spied the troupe of girls and indicated to Ron their general location. “Ron, do you know what this means?” This is going to be a very good year. 

          Ron made the most of his long legs and reached the seated lovelies a step and a half before Harry. Addressing them in his most debonair, I-could-be-a-Turkish-prince-for-all-you-know presentation. “Fair damsels.” Silently challenging Harry to a round of “Who’s Got More Charm?” with a flick of his eyes, Ron deeply salaamed.

          Harry regally nodded his head to the ladies and to accept Ron’s call to arms.  Stretching forth both arms, Harry captured the fingers of 2 different girls nearest to him and looked at one as if she were the only girl in the room “ Enchante,” before doing the same to her friend, “mon ami.” Giving each hand a gentlemanly squeeze and all the girls a fox-in-the-hen-house smile, “Ladies. Are you familiar with the potential benefits that can be had, by the likes such as yourselves, at the hand of a fellow Gryffindor who finds himself suddenly, “ risking a conspiratorial eye-lock with Ron, “in a Malfoy Free Zone?”?

*       *       *       *       *       *       *