Madam Rolanda Xiomara Hooch was rather nervous as she walked out onto the Quidditch pitch. "Come on, Hooch," she whispered to herself, "find that Gryffindor courage the Hat was so insistent about and teach these misfits how to fly!"
She muttered a spell and watched carefully as the tattered school brooms zipped out the door of the shed and landed in the soft grass of the pitch. Rolanda hovered over the area on her own reliable Silver Arrow as she observed the approaching first-years, unsuccessfully trying to convince herself that she was ready for her first class. Her darting eyes landed on one particularly distinctive face. The boy - what was his name? Nestor? - had already been identified as a potential troublemaker. Apparently, he had attempted to sneak out some of his Boil-Curing Potion from Slughorn's class to burn into a sticky goo. Attempted being the key word as, unluckily for him, Prefect Bilius Weasley had caught the mischief-maker in the hallway before the first-year could go spread the mess across the Great Staircase and finish the prank. Rolanda snorted in begrudging amusement; these Muggle-borns were becoming almost obnoxious in their efforts to prove themselves, not that she blamed them, of course. There was too much talk of the supposed pureblood supremacy from that new group: Knights of Walpurgis. Rolanda would wager the first hundred Galleons she earned that this black-haired spawn of Loki wouldn't do something useful with his life in order to prove himself worthy of his magic. But either way, she still had to teach the brat.
When all the children came close to where she hovered, she surprised them with a few breathtaking tricks before landing, struggling not to grin.
"My name is Madam Hooch and you are here to learn how to fly," she announced, her cloak still billowing from the wind she had created.
She got off her broom and walked gracefully to the pile of broomsticks. "These will be the only brooms you ride on this year. You shall not use them without specific permission from me. Pick up a broom and get on."
She instantly regretted her vague directions. As she looked around herself in horror, she saw that most of her students were Muggle-borns who looked terrified at the prospect of assisted self-levitation. Unfortunately for her, there was one Muggleborn who had no qualms at all.
"Look, Madam Hooch, look! Look at meeee!"
A dark blur zipped past her ear and shot upwards at an alarming speed. Rolanda yelled for everyone else to stay on the ground - the Muggle-borns were happy to oblige - and chased after the streak of black marring the sky.
"Slow down! Lean forward to stop!" she yelled at the student; she still couldn't make out who the zigzagging figure was.
"But that won't help!"
"Why not?!"
"Because I'm sitting backwards!"
And indeed he was. As Rolanda stared in amazement, the black-haired troublemaker she had noticed before flew past her, shamefacedly sitting backwards on the Comet 260.
"Stop squirming!"
"Okay!" The broom gradually slowed down enough for Rolanda to grab a hold of the handle.
"What the bloody hell did you think you were doing?!"
"I'm sorry, Madam Hooch! I just wanted to prove to Weasley I could do it."
"Weasley? Bilius Weasley is a Prefect and a fifth year, young man. Do not expect me to believe that he would put you up to this."
"No, Madam Hooch. His little brother's the one that dared me. Arthur Weasley. He's in first year, like me, but he's in Gryffindor and he said that I couldn't ride the broom and he started picking a fight and so I just had to get on the broom, but then I got on wrong and before I could get off to sit on properly it started to-"
"Yes, yes, I understand. However, Mister-"
"Moody, Madam Hooch. Alastor Moody. I really am sorry about all this. I just got excited about flying! Really flying! I'm Muggle-born, and it seemed so interesting, just like out of a children's book or-"
"Are you incapable of silence, Mister Moody?"
"No, Madam Hooch."
"No, you're not incapable of silence, or no, you are incapable of silence?"
"No, I'm not- wait, I am- wait, no…"
Rolanda sighed; it was going to be a long year.
She smirked as an idea popped into her head: she might be able to convince the only other young instructor at Hogwarts to wager a small bet. DADA Professor Alphard Pollux Black was a cute flirt who had an amusing habit of sticking his wand in his back pocket and swaggering about - and Rolanda had always been attracted to confident men with cute arses. She mused as she brought Moody's broom down - he clung onto the wood for dear life - maybe she could convince Black to wager a dinner over whether Moody would have an accident in DADA next week. She was sure Moody could mess up his Curse of the Bogies on cue; he'd only need some subtle encouragement. He was a Slytherin like herself, after all.
Rolanda smirked again. Maybe this job wouldn't be so bad after all.