Caught Off Guard: The Hooligan of Hogwarts
Author's Note: Three things:
ONE: This is a slightly re-worked version of what I posted last week, but with some vital information included. Of which will clarify any confusion.
TWO: Oh Boy! I have dug myself a Plot Hole and I am going to have to offer a 'Missing Moment' from Chapter 3 to fill it in…I guess you could consider it 'Story Spackle'.
THREE: There will be multiple parts to this one chapter… I didn't realize how much I had to do until I sat down and did it! Part Two is ready to go.
As before, what a character is thinking is denoted by the use of italics. Also, EXTRA SPECIAL THANKS and dedications go out to The Amazing Karla, The Wonderful MC and the Fabulous Prof. Roz….
MISSING MOMENT - CHAPTER 3: Inter-Student Relations.
Madame Hooche's 'Welcome to Vector's' opening lecture the first week of classes….
Delivering her speech as she walked up and down the aisles, Mme. Hooche purposely timed her strides so that she was once again standing squarely at the head of the classroom.
"Attendance and broomsticks are mandatory. If you don't have your brooms, don't bother showing up. You don't show up, I will fail you. If any of you expect second chances - I suggest you fly on someone else's time."
"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 its 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." Shifting until she was half standing-half sitting on the edge of her desk she continued, "All of you are roughly the same calibre flyer. The only variable will be the quality of your broom."
Seated two rows up and one seat to the left of Ron, Daphne Greengrass raised her hand. "Madame Hooch?"
"Yes?" Beyond her sharply enunciated tones, self-confident stride and absolute command of the material, Madame Hooche garnered nothing but unflagging attention and respect from her ten hand picked students.
"What about this Friday?" Daphne's voice carried a hint of anticipation and wariness.
Judging by the look on Mme. Hooche'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," Mme. Hooche announced with a wicked glint in her eye and tone in her voice that revealed just how much she was looking forward to the end of the week. "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-sounding promise, "If you don't, you are going to wish you had." Reaching for a piece of chalk, she began her lecture by scrawling a loopy over-sized V on the blackboard.
"Velocity is actually a formula comprised of …"
* * * * * * *
"Who knew there was so much vocabulary involved with flying?" Ron was more amazed than complaining as he collected the heaps of notes he took during Mme. Hooch's lecture. Struggling to get his long legs out from underneath a desk that was entirely too small for him, he was even more astounded over the fact that neither he nor Harry exchanged one look throughout the lesson.
Re-stacking his own books into something more easily managed, Harry concurred. "I will never use the word 'zoom' again."
"Hey Harry - what's up with Greengrass being in class? I know EVERYONE who plays Quidditch and I have NEVER seen her pretty backside on the Pitch." The way Ron shook head showed how perplexed he was.
"Don't know." Harry knew his answer was fairly empty - but he was telling the truth. "I do know Madame Hooch wouldn't have her here if she could not keep up." NO ONE got into Vectors without being CHOSEN.
A black robe, lined with green, worn by a pretty seventeen year-old girl turned and squarely faced both boys.
"Ummm… Ahhh… Hiya Daphne." Watching Ron shift his books to his other hand and crack a smile at the Slytherin though half-lidded eyes, Harry could see that his mate was counting on Weasley Charm to get his big foot out of his bigger mouth.
"Weasley, might I make a couple of suggestions?" Daphne asked.
Daphne's voice, Snape's words, Harry thought. Yep, she's Slytherin alright.
"I would enjoy listening to anything you had to say, Daphne." Ron's voice was full of innuendo. Going for the gold, he asked, "Does midnight - on the Astronomy Observation Deck - work for you?"
Harry had to fight back a groan that burned in the back of his throat and urge to roll his eyes to the ceiling from Ron laying it on so thick.
"One: girls have ears. And, for portion of the female population, those ears are connected to fully-functional brains. That means that we - the select few whom you deem worthy of being a arm decoration - can actually hear what you say and decide for ourselves whether or not your Ego-itis is a chronic condition needing medical attention or if it is based on your sexual frustration with having regular 'dates' with the same five 'ladies'." Wriggling the five her fingers on her right hand for effect, she made it crystal clear who the 'ladies' were.
"Second: think - THEN - speak. Do that, and I GUARENTEE that your quality of life will improve proportionately." Daphne's expression told Ron EXACTLY what would happen if he ever challenged her flight capabilities again as she strode out of the room and onto her next class.
Harry gave into the now urgent need to groan and to roll his eyes when he heard Ron give a low whistle. "Sass, brass and brains wrapped in one conveniently placed, prettily wrapped package. We are lucky men, my friend."
Passing by their instructor's desk on the way out the door, Draco Malfoy was being admonished by a rather severely toned Mme. Hooch.
"Mr. Malfoy. My class consists of two classes a week. If you cannot…"
The rest of what she was saying, as well as Malfoy's response, were 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.
Second Author's Note: Now - onto the story! This chapter picks up IMMEDIATELY after McGonagall tells Pansy that opening and closing her mouth like a fish is not the best look for her.
Chapter 8: Target Practice
The excitement level in the Great Hall reached the rafters and ran the length and breadth of the vaulted ceilings. It was not everyday Hermione Granger, Smartest Witch of Their Age, was accused of Hooliganism. It was even less unlikely that Harry Potter, best friend to the accused and last year's Rake of Gryffindor, would have announced to the entire population of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry that the Quidditch Captain and the Head Girl Extraordinaire were snogging in a broom cupboard while the Ravenclaws were surfing on a sea of blue soap suds. But here they were and every student, every faculty member just witnessed both events take place within minutes of each other and, at the moment, the Gryffindor House Table was ground-zero.
"Harry Potter - you have to tell me EVERYTHING!" Lavender's demanding squeal sounded like nails scratching a chalkboard as she curled her fingers and dug her grip more deeply into his jumper. The glint in her eyes reminded him of the way a Thestral jockeyed for a blood apple. "And don't leave out a single detail!"
"Mate - we gotta talk!" Harry could feel Ron's words weighted by the look in his eyes. Ron only gets that flare in his eye when he is focusing on an oncoming quaffle or skewering his best friend for long overdue details. Specifically as the details pertained to a certain brunette and what actually happened in the darkness of a broom cupboard two days ago.
"Damn, Harry. Good job." Dean's outburst had Harry glancing to his left. Looking at his dorm-mate, his friend's face mirrored the tone of his voice: impressed. Ginny, swanning up to her boyfriend, wearing a 'you-have-the-mentality-of-a-troll' look on her face, erased whatever else the Londoner was going to say. The way Dean went from practically thumping him on the back to being towed away by a red-head who silenced him with a glare, made Harry feel grateful that he did not have to answer to Ginny for being a seventeen-year old male.
Back off, people! Everyone was talking at him at the same time. Questions and chatter came from every direction. The bawdier assumptions about the where, what and how of his liaison with Hermione, he silenced with a glare. Scanning his House, there was only one person he wanted to talk to and she was cornered by a fan club of her own. No way of getting to her right now. She was surrounded by a crowd of different people, all of whom were making the same kind of comments that he was being barraged with. Her head turned from one person after another, shooting down the well-intentioned romantic comments and the slightly lewder connotations with the same amount of accuracy. He watched as she gave each person a disparaging eye-roll, a terse one-word answer, or in Pavarti's case, both. Despite the distance, he could see flickers of irritation flash in her eyes when the Indian girl grabbed Hermione's arm and - with different words - asked the same question, a g a i n.
People - if she didn't say anything the first time, what makes you think she will say something different the second time? He'd bet a treacle tart that she was looking for the most immediate means of escape.
She hates being the centre of attention. Something else tickled the back of mind. Why is everybody asking me where and when Hermione and I kissed?
Seamus, being shorter than he and Ron, abruptly climbed onto the bench. Putting his fingers in his mouth, Seamus scattered Harry's thoughts with an ear-piercing whistle.
"All right you lot!"
Harry waited for the floor to open up and swallow him when he realized Seamus was addressing the whole Hall and referring to him and Hermione at the same time. Looking over several heads, what he saw made him smile: Pavarti may have Hermione's arm, but not her attention. He felt a corner of his mouth quirk when he saw Hermione zero in on a flagon of pumpkin juice and then mentally gauge the distance from the flagon to Seamus's head. He definitely deserves it but bad idea: too many witnesses. Attempting to make eye contact with her while everyone else was looking at his dorm-mate, Harry found his quirk become a grim line when she answered him with a volley of well-sharpened daggers launched from deep within her brown eyes.
Catching movement out of the corner of his eye of more people crowding the table, Harry mentally sighed. Even the Slytherins, in their not-even-House-elves-would-use-them-for-dishrags ugly robes were ready to listen to what the Irish boy was about to say.
"Anyone who placed a wager is to meet me in the Student Quad after classes. All bets will be settled then!"
Calling out reassurance to those who wanted more details, Seamus hopped down off the bench and started to dig in his book bag for parchment and quill. Laughing and fending off the more apprehensive concerns with flick of his hands, Harry felt himself become less amused with how blasé Seamus sounded when he said, "Don't get your knickers in a bunch, everyone! Don't fret - you'll all be sorted out after classes and not a moment sooner!"
You've been keeping a betting pool - wee Seamus - about me and Hermione? Harry felt his eyes narrow as he focused on the columns and headings on the tally sheets that were being spread out and passed around. Snagging a parchment in transit and originally meant for some Ravenclaw somewhere behind him, he followed a row of marks that were cross-referenced by dates, locations and 'acts'. Getting to 'third base', on a prep table, in the kitchens, while sent on an errand during Transfiguration? Hermione is going to have to take a number. I have first dibs on our resident Love-Bookie. Recalling Ron's words, Harry silently tut-tutted the boy. You forget that I know where you sleep, my friend! Watching Hagrid hoist Flitwick onto his shoulders and wade through the crowd to make sure that their guesses were 'still on the list', Harry felt his wand arm become twitchy. The kind of twitch that would only be satisfied by dragging Seamus by the scruff of his neck into the hallway for a first-hand demonstration of 'Why You Never Mess With A Witch or Wizard Who Is More Powerful Than Yourself'.
So, Naked Boy, ever wonder what you would look like if you were hit by a Body Augmentation Curse fired at point blank range?
The vision of the Irish lad scaled down to the size of a Leprechaun faded when Harry saw Ron hold up both of his hands and heard him holler, "OYE!"
Ron made sure his voice only carried far enough to make sure everyone in Gryffindor House, not the entire student body, turned their heads and focused on what he was about to say.
"There will be a MANDATORY HOUSE MEETING, everyone! I want EVERYONE in the Gryffindor Common Room on Sunday, at four o'clock. I DO NOT CARE if you are strapped to a hospital bed. Find someone to levitate your sorry carcass to this meeting. No exceptions, excuses, whining about homework or begging off." Ron's blue eyes swept the crowd. "We are the only House still standing and I want to keep it that way!" Harry saw everyone around him agreeing to Ron's plan.
Lowering his arms and smiling broadly, he finished his speech. "Good." Rubbing his palms together for effect he decreed, "Now, let's eat! I'm starving!"
Jerked to a stop after having taken only two steps, he shot a scowl at Lavender. Her grip on his jumper kept him from using Ron's announcement as a means to melt into the crowd and leave the Hall. Her quirked eyebrow and over-sweet smile was the equivalent of an immobilising hex. Following her line of sight it was a fight to keep from gnawing off his own wrist as he connected the dots. Pavarti was closing in on him and it was Lavender's job to keep him from escaping. Hang on - last time I saw Pavarti, she had been grilling Hermione. If Pavarti is coming at me, then where is Hermione? Scanning for the Head Girl again, he caught sight of a straight-backed, brown-haired female give a furtive look around her before she flipped up the hood of her robe and slipped out of the Hall
A quick promise whispered in Lavender's ear set him free. Leaving Lavender to placate a not-so-amused Pavarti, he angled his way through the crowd. It was a long two seconds before the feeling of impending backlash subsided. Giving up His Most Furriest to the H.G.M. kills two birds with one stone, he reasoned with himself. The word still gets out, and there will be enough fall-outs to prevent MacMillan from retaliating.
Saddling up to Ron, a challenging 'you-are-standing-here-for-WHAT-reason?' glare was necessary to convince a hovering Hufflepuff that he would find safer company among his fellow Housemates. Looking in Ron's eyes, Harry passed him the parchment he had severely wrinkled and asked quietly, "Can you take my books to class?"
Watching Ron tuck the paper inside his robe and size up the situation as more Ravenclaws, some older Hufflepuffs and abhorrently garbed Slytherins closed in on the Gryffindor Table, had him thinking like his Keeper. Seeing Seamus the centre of the newcomers' attentions, Ron nodded to Harry. Speaking only loud enough to be heard - not overheard - there was no mistaking the loyalty in his voice. "Yeah, no problem."
Sweeping the throng, Ron's inner strategist played out the most likely scenario. The Gossip Mill's Special Edition will be looking for verification before 'going to print'. Once they see that Harry and Hermione are gone - at the same time - that'll be fuel for the proverbial fire.
Stifling an instinctual groan, he levelled a knowing look at Harry. "You won't have long, though." Concern for his 'other' sister deepened the timbre of his voice and momentarily chased the humour out of his eyes. "Find her fast, okay?"
"Done." Not missing the moment of unguarded affection in Ron's face, Harry made sure that his other best friend was reassured. "I promise."
Harry clapped his friend's shoulder, "Thanks, Ron," before slipping though the crowd and making his own way out of the Great Hall.
Xxx Xxx X xx Xxx Xxx Xxx Xxx
The din from the Great Hall spilled out into corridor as Harry pushed open one of the massive oak doors. Letting the door swing shut behind him did not totally cut off the noise, but it did muffle enough of it for him to pick up on the tapping of footfalls against floorboards. Looking left, then right, he barely managed to glimpse a swirl of black robe disappearing around the next corner. Sprinting down the corridor, classroom doors and access ways blurred together as he caught up with his quarry.
"Hermione - wait up!" His voice sounded horribly loud as it bounced off the empty corridor walls and rang around his ears.
"Hermione - stop!" He knew that she could not be too far ahead.
Breaking out into a run, it was only seconds before his fingers grabbed a fistful of robe. Coming to a halt, Harry used his momentum to spin the person he had been chasing so that he could talk to his best friend face to face.
"Hermione - you have to believe me - I never meant for this to happen. It is just that everything happened so fast." Fixing his eyes on a spot on the wall over her shoulder, Harry knew his words were coming out too fast. "It's just that I saw you standing up there, and that cow Parkinson was being - well, she always is - a wench, and all of a sudden, I heard myself talking and then Seamus started in and then…" Feelings and thoughts from the last thirty minutes, eight weeks and seven years all started to blend together. A montage of events, complete with sound effects, played out in his head as he continued to look at the wall. Careful Potter - not yet! Now's not the time. Shaking his head, the spots that danced in the darkness of his tightly shut eyes pushed those thoughts to a slightly safer emotional distance. "It's just that, you know…" His voiced trailed off again as he settled his gaze more squarely on a hooded Hermione. "Aren't you going to say anything, Hermione?"
"First of all, I strongly recommend complete sentences. Daddy always says that there are too many people in the world who do not know how to string words together properly." A feminine voice explained. "That is why The Quibbler is always particular when it comes to hiring freelance journalists." Flipping the hood back, pale blonde hair, blue eyes and a porcelain complexion was the last thing Harry expected to see.
LUNA!
"Oh Merlin, Luna - I am so sorry! I thought… you know… and then I just started going on…" Great job on picking up where you left off, Potter. Bonus points allotted for stating the obvious.
"Second of all, I'm not sure that I want to give you what I was asked to give you," Luna's voice carried a hint of indecision.
Huh - what? Inner-Harry and Harry shared the same thought. As a general rule, Harry always gave himself a few extra seconds to process anything that Luna said - just to make sure he understood everything she did say, in the manner that she meant it to be heard. Watching her blink several times with out saying anything more, he felt like he might need a week - possibly a fortnight - for this one to fully sink in.
This time a hand resting on his arm did not warrant a scowl. A firmly stated, "Walk and talk with me," had him turning around and branching off towards the east end of the castle and falling in-step with the willowy Ravenclaw.
Patting his arm with her fingers, Luna did not look at him when she said, "You acted too rashly."
Looking at the fingers that drummed against his robe, Harry sighed. "I know - I wanted to catch up with her before she sent her Howler. And maybe I did not think everything through but what was I supposed to do? Just stand there and not do something about it?"
The girl walking beside him didn't answer his question or even glance in his direction despite the way his voice rose in indignation. Rounding a corner and climbing a flight of stairs, the silence between him and Luna stretched all the way to the landing and the length of the adjoining hallway.
Now in an inner part of the castle, the walls were peppered with sconces alight with oil-lamps. Minute air drafts made the flames flicker and cast subtly moving shadows against the walls as the two friends walked along.
Looking down at his companion, Harry had to ask, "Luna. Do you know something that I don't?"
A wry smile revealed a row of white, even teeth and a charming dimple, "Many, many things, Harry."
Harry her voice and posture go from lightly teasing to moderately scolding in the space it took for the dimple to disappear and her posture to slightly stiffen. "You laid claim to a victory of a battle which you did not fight."
"That's not what happened at all! She was backed into a corner! That," Luna's disapproving look had him searching for a different word to apply to Pansy, "Parkinson girl wouldn't stop! And don't forget, no one else was coming forward to vindicate Hermione!"
"What did vindicate her, Harry?" Luna paused in front of a top of another flight of stairs and without taking her hand off his arm, they both started to descend. "Was it you?"
Frustration in trying to follow Luna's logic was bringing colour to his cheeks. "What do you mean? You were there - you saw what was going on."
"I saw someone doing well at something they did not like doing and I saw someone do something which they are very good at doing despite knowing that they should not be doing that in the first place." Turning west, Luna paused before steering him down another corridor.
"Luna, I have no idea what you just said," Harry replied with a rueful shake of his head. He could feel his skin starting to prickle like it did when he gave the wrong answer in class even though he had done the homework.
A look of consideration flashed in her eyes. "People look at what is in front of them and react. Seeing what is taking place around you - that is something entirely different."
Coming up on a hallway sprinkled with classroom doors, the number of students passing them was increasing. Changing his position as to prevent Luna from being accidentally jostled, Harry had one thought on his mind. Which he shared with the pretty Ravenclaw, "How bad is it?"
"Harry." Luna's look became pensive again as they stopped at a doorway, leaned against the jamb and said, "Understand. Just because you cannot see what someone else has set in motion, don't assume that it is not taking place."
More and more students were bustling by on their way to class. Too many for Harry liking, given what he and Luna were talking about. Switching subjects was the best protection from being overheard.
"Well, at the very least," flashing a mischievous grin at the blonde girl, "I can tell Ron I saw you safely to your afternoon lesson." Harry said. Even if I am more confused then when I started out, I am glad that it was her robes I grabbed.
"No - this is your next lesson - Harry." Eyes sparkling with her point being made, the final nail - tempered by double entendre - was pounded into Harry's thick head when he saw her look past his shoulder and beam at the person coming up behind him. "Hello, Ronald."
Harry saw his friend's face light up at seeing who was standing in front of the Divination classroom door. Hearing Ron ask Luna to give him a moment, Harry received a questioning look from his red-haired friend whom he answered with a self-deprecating shrug, "No, I missed her. "
Giving his mate a look that meant that they would talk later, Harry asked, "Got my books?"
"Nope. I had to slip 'em to Dean on the sly. Was the only way to break up the row he was having with Ginny," Ron explained with a rueful shrug.
Nodding in understanding - especially after seeing the way Ginny 'got Dean's attention' in the Great Hall, he stepped aside and let Ron pass so he could stand near Luna.
"Be prepared for an ugly night Harry, especially if she had time to post a Howler." Ron was empathetic but he wasn't laughing. Mostly because a good part of him believed Hermione was done wrong. Not that he could say why, specifically, but the feeling was there even if he didn't have the words to spell it out.
Understanding why Ron had gone suddenly quiet, Harry agreed with his best mate's assessment. "I know."
Kicking up the corners of his mouth with a genuine smile, Harry gestured to his companion. "But I did accost someone who is more fair, sage and generous than you or I."
Ron picked up on Harry wanting to change the subject. Popping his eyes wide open and inhaling sharply as if he had heard someone bad-mouthing the Chudley Cannons, he reassured everyone who was within earshot. "Don't worry everyone. I still have The Mirror and The Mirror says that I am the still prettiest one of them all." Turning to Luna, he was all sheepish smiles and freckles. "I looked for you in the Hall but couldn't find you."
Looking over at Harry and then up at Ron, Luna smiled. "I told you Ronald that I would catch up with you after lunch." Not side-tracked by his charm, Harry easily read her pointed look as she added, "It was always my plan to meet you here."
Okay, Luna - I get you now.
Harry quirked an eyebrow at her and nodded in defeat. Leaving those two in the corridor, Harry gave the girl credit. Luna had just proved her point and had done it well. Just because I did not see what she was intending doesn't mean her intentions didn't exist. Taking his thoughts one step further as he collected his books from a rather subdued Dean and waited for Firenz to start the class, his eyes clouded over with embarrassment. Hermione was vindicated by her wand being tested - which would have happened anyway whether I thumped my chest or not.
Thinking of the situation he had put he and Hermione in, one thought dominated all the others swirling around in his head as the Centaur began his lecture. Oh Merlin, am I in for it now!
Xxx Xxx X xx Xxx Xxx Xxx Xxx
Later that afternoon, after Divination…
"MOVE! MOVE! M O V E! "
Her teaching robes were an ink-dark spot on the green grass before the second word left her mouth.
Madame Hooche's voice was faster, sharper and more commanding than the whistle that hung around her neck. A Hufflepuff was in a deadly flat-spin and he was rapidly running out of air-space as he plummeted towards the landing area. One look told her that he had miscalculated the variables associated with carrying a second person. The Hufflepuff was yanking on the handle of his WindSprint in a panic - which caused the deadly spin in the first place. She could hear the boy sitting behind him screaming that he was too young to die.
Wandless magic had her SkyStreaker smacking her palm. Wandless magic had her airborne and coming up and behind the wildly descending broom.
Excellent lesson plans and meticulous attention to safety on behalf of the Vector's professor had Harry, Ron, Draco and Daphne Greengrass getting into position without having to be told what to do.
From their positions on the ground, everyone watched as Madame Hooche proved exactly why she was the Flight Instructor at Hogwarts School of Witch Craft and Wizardry and why it was a privilege to be enrolled in the class.
Matching the speed of descent and the counter-clockwise motion of the out-of-control broom, Hooche didn't hesitate or waste a single movement as she manoeuvred into position. Locking her ankles around each other for leverage, she braced her knees to catch her weight as she tilted herself backwards. Hanging upside down, hooking her knees on the broom's handle and extending her arms, it was a precious half a second before she could pluck the screaming student off the out-of-control broom. Looking down beyond his flailing legs, it was another fraction of a moment, when the WindSprint was in mid arc, before she could release the younger student into a free-fall that would not end with him getting hit with the back end of the broom as it came around. The unknown student's screams grew higher in pitch when she let him go. Making delicate adjustments to her own broom's trajectory with her thighs, she focused on the Hufflepuff and coaxing him out of the death grip he had on his broom.
Madame Hooche's safety drills had a Ravenclaw dashing to the infirmary as soon as she kicked off. Breaking into Emergency Response Mode, Harry, Ron, Daphne and Draco separated from the rest of the class. Forming a square underneath the pair of spinning brooms each braced the tops of their broom handles against the navigational twigs at the base of the brooms. Daphne's broom was the last one to lock in place, the responsibility for the cushioning spell was hers.
No sooner were the words out of her mouth than a screaming student was heard dropping out of the sky. Arms and legs tangled in his uniform, he landed face first into an invisible net that stretched from broom-to-broom. Bouncing twice was all the time the foursome could spare before Daphne issued the counter-spell; having more than one person in the net at a time too dangerous to chance. The sound of robes snapping was not enough to break their concentration, but it did have them craning their necks towards to the sky. Calling out the charm again - just in time - the blue-garbed fly-boy landed in the invisible net hard. Shaken, pale - but unhurt.
Still hanging upside down, Madame Hooche felt like she could hear the collective gasp from below as she released the grip the backs of her knees had on her SkyStreaker and kicked her legs so that, for one split second, she was in a controlled somersault between the two brooms before landing, seat-first, on the out-of-control broom. Counter-balancing her weight to offset the spin, she knew she only had a few rotations left before she would either land on the ground or land in the hospital wing.
She only needed one rotation to realize that she did not have enough air-space to break the spin.
There was time for Plan B.
Locking her wrists, one fluid motion had her standing on the spinning broom. Timing would be everything: wind speed, velocity, the flat-spin of the broom, her weight and the responsiveness of the WindSprint were factors that had to be calculated quickly. Stomping on the broom with one foot at precisely the right moment and actually kicking herself free of the Hufflepuff's WindSprint, she watched as time slowed to one-tenth its normal pace. The heavier end of the broom swung until it pointed to the ground below and top of the handle pointed towards the top of her head while she fell - in free fall - beside the broom. Stretching out her right hand, she reached for the 'pommel' of the broom and pulled the shaft hard against the length of her body. Fitting one boot into the foot prongs, the second slow-quickly followed. She could see treetops swaying and ripples on the lake as time suddenly resumed and speeded up. Mentally and physically preparing herself, she cast the one spell any serious flyer dreaded but guaranteed to stop the vertical spin that challenged her sense of balance and direction.
"DOWN!"
Leaping free of the broom as the school grounds rushed up at her, the WindSprint struck and sank several inches into the soft soil as her booted feet hit land. Her soft knees and relaxed hips, spine and neck absorbed a lot of the shock that was transferred to her body when she struck the well padded grassy area that was designated as the Vectors practice zone.
Stretching out her own hand, wandless magic pulled her SkyStreaker from wherever it landed back to her palm. Her short, spunky hair was even more wind-blown than usual and dust clung to her cheekbones, the bridge of her nose, chin and forehead. A heightened brightness to her eyes and the white-knuckled grip she had on her broom were the only tell-tale signs that anything out of the ordinary had happened in the past four minutes. Looking at each of the four students who had followed her safety drills to the letter, she took a couple deep breaths of air before saying, "Twenty points for each of you."
One of the four seemed more affected than the others. Madame Hooche approached her and placed a dusty, gloved hand on the Slytherin's shoulder. Looking at the girl straight in the eye, Hooche gave the younger witch a well-earned, in-frequently offered compliment. "Greengrass - well done - you made the right calls at the right time. You'll do well as a Rescue Flight Medic. Keep up the good work and I will write your recommendation myself."
Sweeping the rest of her students with her eyes, taking a head count as she walked over to the trembling Hufflepuff and his friend she asked, "Why was it that Potter, Greengrass, Weasley and Malfoy were the ones to cast the safety-net spell?"
"Because they have the longest brooms," a voice answered automatically.
"That is precisely the reason why. Longer brooms equal greater area of safety and in an emergency every spare inch counts." Crouching down in front of the younger student, she brushed his hair out of his eyes. Taking a handkerchief out of her pants pocket and pressing it into his hands she asked gently, "Are you alright?" Too stunned to form words, the boy simply nodded.
Looking to her left to where the Hufflepuff was standing next to one of his friends, she beckoned for him to come to her. Putting a re-assuring tone into her voice, she smiled at her student and the underclassman who was his 'victim'.
"You'll be alright. When Madame Pomfrey gets here, I want you to go with her and let her check you out." Seeing the younger boy begin to shiver, and the terror still dancing in her student's eyes, she could see that the first stages of shock were taking effect. Snapping her head back toward the rest of her class, she called out, "I need a pair of robes! " Turning back to the two affected students, she switched back to her re-assuring tone as she shared, "It is important that we keep you warm."
A pair of heinously ugly, snake-heart-shaped-kissy-faced-definitely-not-school-issued-robes pooled on the ground in front of her. Glancing at Daphne and Draco in their house jumpers, their Slytherin-ness was apparent. They each had a perfectly good reason - and valid excuse - as to why they would not have to wear butt-ugly robes for the rest of the afternoon.
"Glad to help, Madame Hooche," Daphne said with a smile - relief in having the garment off her body echoing every word.
"Glad to be rid of it, Madame Hooche." Draco's response cut to the quick and brought a much needed chuckle to the group.
The smile she had been denying herself since the start of class spread across her face as she acknowledged their Slytherin cunning. "Five extra points for each of you. For finding a creative, iron-clad way to evade an afternoon's worth of teasing by your fellow classmates."
Turning her attention back to the trembling Seventh Year and trading her mirth for re-assurance, Madame Hooche spoke very clearly but without reproach, "Tomorrow, I want to see you here. Together we will get you back on your broom and together we will sort out where the over-compensation for the additional weight took place. Agreed?" Hearing a small sound that sounded a lot like a 'yes', she draped one ugly robe and then the other over the two lads. Standing up, she winced at the crackling noises her joints made. It had been a long time since she had to execute a perfect Plan B.
"Common sense, knowledge of your broom and faith in your instincts are the three tools an aviator has to have on them at all time." Rejoining her class, she looked at each one of them in turn. "These four at the tallest in the class, and coincidently have the longest brooms. That is why they formed the safety net. Remember our line-up, people. If one of them were in the air, then the next person would have stepped up and completed the charm. But never forget: going to get help is equally, if not more, important. Being there for your fellow flyer is paramount. One of the greatest misconceptions out there is that those who fly are solitary individuals' who are hell bent on leaving the land-world behind." Pausing for a moment to let her words echo between her students, Madame Hooche let it be known how ridiculous that myth was. "You all know that every time you take off, you take with you the need to return - to come back to something, someone, some place. Tell me that is the mind frame of a loner."
A chorus of 'here, here' broke out around her. Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw the dispatched Ravenclaw approach the practice area with a satchel-laden Madame Pomfrey following close behind. A part of her relaxed as she saw Poppy quietly separate the two shaken students and begin to tend to them; it was the part of her she needed to finish teach today's lesson.
"Now. You have seen what a miscalculation can cost you. But you also know that what you all just saw is a reality that each of you carries with you every time each of you climbs toward the clouds. Don't let the possibilities of 'what if' over-ride your sense of probability and faith in your skills and brooms." Bringing her whistle to her lips, she blew three sharp blasts and was back to her usual efficient self. Pomfrey was herding the two students towards hospital and the remaining nine members of her class had their eyes glued on their professor.
"Alright, people! Potter, Weasley - you're next. 'Dive and Dash' is the name of the game when we started today's lesson and it hasn't changed. Just in case you all have forgotten, this is a defensive manoeuvre. It was developed with the intent of inserting a flyer into a situation, collecting a person in trouble, putting them on your broom and orchestrating a getaway where both of you escape unharmed - or as undamaged as possible. As we have seen today - it is not as easy as it looks. You are used to one person on your broom: you. But, with weight distribution changed, your broom is not going to respond in the way you are accustomed. That rules out relying on the use of muscle memory and automatic compensations to manage your broom."
"In light of recent events, I think we are going to change things up a bit." Clapping her hands together in a way that sparked smiles among her students, she explained, "So. Here's what you get to do. Go out. Find a 'victim'. Bring them back. The last person back has to polish the other's broom for a month."
One long trilling blast from her whistle had both Harry and Ron throwing their legs over their broom handles, poised to take off
The word, "GO!" had them streaking into the blue sky overhead.
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