Disclaimer: Harry Potter, and it's characters and universe all belong to JK Rowling. Picture on cover also is not mine.

Shut up and fly straight! - Avatar

To the Skies

There it was. Sleek carved handle, perfectly sculpted bristles, adjustable tail to foothold length, balance sensitivity, a streamline flight path...the whole lot.

"Units already shipped to all the National teams!" she could hear the salesman saying from inside the glass.

The Nimbus. the sign said: A broom of unparalleld performance. And then, in very small letters: price upon request.

Rolanda Hooch, only eight years old, but spectacularly snarky, rolled her eyes.

With her feet planted firmly outside Quality Quidditch, and her grip on her father's hand like iron, she was practically drooling. She was staring at the broom in the window with more love than was shown her little brothers.

Understandable, though; they were little brothers.

It was all over the press, obviously; the revolutionary broom. Not classed in a category, because it was something all it's own. Witch Weekly, The Daily Prophet; pictures of it were plastered everywhere, and Rolanda was positive they were mocking her.

"But, MUM, PLEASE! This is actually important! We are talking life changing."

Her mother rolled her eyes, (this is the first observation young Rolanda Hooch ever made about the traits she had inherited), for what seemed like the thousandth time.

"For the last time, Rolanda, the answer is no."

"But...but Dad!" Rolanda put on her best pout and widened her eyes considerably, and tried to summon some tears. She had never failed to get something from her dad, ever since she was little.

And she saw the signs: it was working! His eyes grew large, taking in the sight of his poor baby, and he took a deep breath in to think about it, and then-

Her mother delivered a swift elbow to the ribs, and Rolanda stomped her foot, knowing she had been defeated. "No," her father choked out.

"But WHY, MUM?!" she had to know what was so wrong with having a broom.

Her mother sighed. "Darling, brooms are very expensive. And why do you want a broom, anyway? Little girls do not play quidditch. We fly, but we do not play quidditch. That is a quidditch broom."

Rolanda looked at her like she had grown three heads. "What..." the young girl stammered, struggling to get the words out- "what- of course girls play quidditch!" She turned to her father again. "Dad, don't girls play quidditch?"

"Well, sweetie...not really..." he looked as if he was casting the killing curse.

"But...but," and this time, real tears fell, and her father cringed, "I want to play quidditch! I want to learn, and play! I don't even know anything about it, but obviously it's the best sport ever, because it's the only sport we play! Muggles have all sorts of different sports with balls but we can fly so our only sport is wonderful!"

But apparently, the parents had had a silent conversation, and they were giving little Rolanda the silent treatment.

That night, Rolanda was laying in bed, flipping through her books when she heard a knock at the door. She gave an indignant little sniff before she heard the next knock. "Humpf" she muttered, "...who is it?" she said quietly.

"Daddy. Can I come in, Ro?"

She thought for a moment, but after his next pleading "...Ro?" she sighed and gave in. She stumbled off the bed and cracked open the door, opening it and pulling her father inside. She sat down on the bed and sighed, then looked up at her dad with big eyes. "Yeah?"

Dad smiled. "I'm here to make you a deal, Ro. Your mother and I talked about it, and...we're going to get you-"

"AHH!" she squealed.

"Shh- the boys are sleeping! A broom. Not a Nimbus, but a broom, a quidditch broom. But you have to start helping us- the boys are a handful, and we could use a big girl around here. If you're on your best behavior by Christmas, we'll get you a broom. And you have to learn to fly. Practice, work hard, you can't give up. Understand? You can never give up."

Her very first ride on the broom was the next winter. She got two feet off the ground-

and promptly fell flat on her face.

But her father was there to help her, and eventually, so was her mother. Always, it was the same advice- "Fly straight, Ro. Stay on your path, know where you're going."

Years later, Rolanda would reflect that that is why she became a teacher. Because when she goes out on her broom and flies out over the lake, feeling like she's on the top of the world- she knows where she's going. She knows where she came from, and she knows what she wants to be. She's on the right path, and it's because she knew how to fly. She wanted to share this with the students of Hogwarts, and everytime she watched a beater bat a bludger, or a chaser or keeper manouver a quaffle, or a seeker catch the snitch, Rolanda felt like she could touch the sky.

A/N: I never realized how awesome Hooch was until I wrote this. Hope you enjoyed it, considering it was so different. Written for:

Hogwarts School Competiton: flying - write about Madam Hooch, prompts: performance, flight, length, unit, magazine, newspaper, category, teaching, lake

Cinema Competition: Avatar: "shut up and fly straight!" (I hope you find it did the movie quote justice. I couldn't come up with anything for the scenario.)

Disney Movie Competition: Mary Poppins: write about someone who has different views than anyone else

Please drop me a review if you liked it :)

Lara,