FLYING LESSONS
BEGINNING THURSDAY
September 14, 2001
First Year Ravenclaws will have
Flying Lessons on the lawn
at 2 PM with Hufflepuff '
DONT BE LATE!
.
Chris was forcing Angelica to make friends.
She wasn't totally sure why; was it normal friend behaviour to make your friends make other friends? Angelica didn't know, but somehow she thought not.
Maybe Chris was just weird.
After he'd seen her and Tracy . . . chatting, at the Slytherin table, he'd taken it upon himself to drag the two of them into a conversation together. Both girls were entirely bemused by it - in Tracy's case, because Chris rarely, if ever said a word to her before that, and Angelica because she knew it was out of character for her friend. In her opinion nothing smelled fishy. It smelled . . . snakey.
Angelica paused as she realised what she'd just thought.
Merlin, that was a terrible pun.
The Potter girl blinked a little and turned back to the conversation at hand. Or rather, the boasting fest. She was sitting at the Ravenclaw table for once because Chris had managed to land himself in detention for 'skipping' Astronomy class Wednesday night because he fell asleep.
"I'm telling you, I nearly hit a Muggle airy-plane!"
"It's an aeroplane, Michael . . . . "
"Ha! As if! You'd have heard it from way off! I flew my broomstick through a a hurricane, once."
"You're a liar, Mandy, you'd have died before you flew through a hurricane!"
"Well I can top all of you - I once went to a Holyhead Harpies practise because my cousin Mei was watching me and is on the team, and they let me fly with them. I blocked two goals from Wilda Griffiths herself!"
Angelica really didn't see what all the fuss was about - you sat on a broom and it moved. Whoopee. She could do the same thing with a quarter outside any five-and-dime store on a children's ride. Admittedly, she didn't see what was so great about car racing, either, so maybe it was like that . . . . Quidditch was like watching cars turn left and left and left until they crashed, and normal flying was speeding when you didn't think you'd get caught.
. . . She still didn't get the appeal of it, though.
After they finished their lunches, the Ravenclaw first years as one made their way down the front steps onto the grounds for their first flying lesson. It was a clear, breezy day, and the grass rippled under their feet as they marched down the sloping lawns toward a smooth, flat lawn on the opposite side of the grounds to the forbidden forest, whose trees were swaying darkly in the distance.
No-one was there yet, except the woman Angelica assumed to be Madam Hooch, the flying instructor. She was a young-looking woman, though she had grey hair, and she had hawkish features, even yellow eyes.
The Hufflepuffs soon arrived, and Madam Hooch got right to it.
"Well, what are you all waiting for? An invitation?" she barked. "Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up."
They all hurried to their brooms. Angelica looked down at hers warily. It was old, with twigs both broken and sticking out at funny angles. Wizards flew on these? She'd been hoping for one out of Halloweentown. Those ones were cool.
"Stick out your right hand over your broom," called Madam Hooch at the front, "and say 'Up!'"
"UP" everyone shouted.
Angelica's broom jumped right into her hand, much to her own shock, but it was one of the few that did. Most other people's rose a little before falling, rolled around, or just didn't move at all.
Once everyone had called up their broom, Madam Hooch began showing them how to mount their brooms without falling off the end, and walked between the two rows of students, correcting their grips.
"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard," said Madam Hooch. "Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle — three — two — one —" Her whistle was sharp and shrill, and the first years launched into the air. They stayed their a moment, looks of obvious excitement on their faces, totally delighted at being up in the air, before all touching down again.
Silently, Angelica re-evaluated her opinion of flying. Oh, it was still horrible cliché, but . . . She smiled slightly. It was brilliant, the best feeling in the world.
At the end of class, they were all allowed to fly freely, and Angelica had to resist letting out a whoop. This was something she could do without being taught, this was something that was easy, something wonderful. And she absolutely was ecstatic over it.
But all good things come to an end, and so Angelica and the other first years had to go back to the ground and begin their trek up to the castle. The Slytherins and Gryffindors had their first flying class next, and neither the Hufflepuffs nor the Ravenclaws wanted to stick around for that. The two houses absolutely hated each other, and Ron Weasley and Draco Malfoy kept getting caught trying to hex each other.
Still, it did end up being a surprise when Angelica looked up at four o'clock and saw Hermione storming into the library. They hadn't spoken much since the train ride - they didn't share any classes but History of Magic and Astronomy, neither of which were good for interacting with each other. They did chat in the library from time to time, but Angelica unfortunately didn't see the girl as a friend. She half-rose in her seat, thinking that perhaps they could talk, but Hermione breezed by her, not even noticing Angelica was there at all, muttering about stupid boys and broke necks.
Wait, Angelica thought. Shouldn't the Gryffindors, and thus Hermione, still be in their flying class? And where was Neville? Usually he and Hermione were inseparable.
Angelica got at least a little more clued in half an hour later, when Chris strolled into the library and slung his bag on their table before flopping into the chair across from her. She looked up from her book to see him waiting patiently, leaning on his forearms, for her to finish her page. She closed her book and set it aside. "Yes?"
Chris grinned. "So how did your flying lesson go?" he asked. Angelica didn't get a chance to answer as he rambled on. "Not nearly as exciting as mine, I'll bet."
Angelica arched an eyebrow. "Oh? Go on, tell me. No need to be shy."
"Ron fall off his broom," Chris shrugged. "So did Neville. Draco's strutting around like an idiot." He sat back and smiled innocently at his friend.
"You take too much enjoyment out of that sort of thing," Angelica said flatly. "So, was I the only one that was completely thrown for a loop in Potions yesterday? I thought that the potion would need to add bittersweet, to counterbalance the properties of the hippogriff's eye, but we didn't, and the healing potion turned out fine."
Chris thought for a moment before answering. "I didn't think of it, but I think adding it would make the potion more stable, less likely to explode."
The female witch grinned. "Yay. Anything else new? I got a letter back from Miss Trudoe."
"That's great. I found a good place for us to hold the ritual, actually. It's not far into the forest. There's a big round clearing, and it feels perfect."
"That's great, Chris! Come one, let's go to it!"
Laughing, the boy agreed to take her to the clearing - it was a few hours until dinner, anyway.
Once they were there, Angelica couldn't help but think that Chris was right - this was the perfect spot. It was large, perhaps thirty feet in diameter, and was nice and private, a twelve minute slow walk into the forest. The grass was tall with flowers popping up all over, but someone - she suspected Chris - had pulled everything up for about four feet around a large, flat boulder in the centre of the clearing that would be perfect to use as an altar*. The torn-up grass had all been braided into long cords that want around the top of the boulder.
"Chris," Angelica said slowly, "I could kiss you right now."
The boy made a disgusted face, much to Angelica's irritation. "EW! No way!"
Boys.
.
The next day, Hermione was fuming, and Angelica decided to ask her what was wrong before she broke a book or something.
"Ronald Weasley!" Hermione spat.. "I don't know what's wrong with him! He was going to have completely stupid 'Midnight Duel' with that Malfoy boy, and dragged me into it! And when Malfoy didn't show up and Filch came instead - " Angelica nodded. That sounded like something a Slytherin would do. " - he dragged me and Dean Thomas half the way across the school, past Peeves, and into the third floor corridor! There's a dog there! With three heads! It's as tall as the ceiling!" Hermione's voice grew very shrill on the last sentence, and Angelica had to cover her ears. When it became clear that Hermione wasn't speaking any longer, and was waiting for an answer, Angelica lowered her hands.
"Three headed dog?" she asked rhetorically. "I've heard of those . . . Do you know Greek mythology?"
Hermione nodded. "Some, yes."
Angelica nodded. "Good, that makes it easier. There's a dog with three heads in it, the Cerberus. It's the child of Echidna and Typhon, and brother to Othrus, a two-headed hellhound. Some sources say that each of the Cerberus' heads sees something different - one sees the past, the other the present, and the last sees the future. The Cerberus only eats live meat, and is Hades' loyal guard dog to the gates of the Underworld. Capturing Cerberus alive, without using any weapons, was Hercules final labour."
The Gryffindor girl blinked. "How do you know all of that?"
Angelica blushed. "I always liked mythology." She shook her head and went on, back to the original subject they'd been talking about. "At any rate, I wouldn't doubt it if the Cerberus were real, so we may want to check the magical creatures section. Come on."
The two girls ran to the Care of Magical Creatures section, and began pulling down books. Hermione was the one to find it.
"Here it is!" She cried. Angelica put One Thousand Beasts Unknown to Muggles and sat down beside the other girl, looking over her shoulder at the page as Hermione ran her finger along it, reading aloud.
"A Cerberus is a magical hound of Greek origin, and the species is well-known for it's prowess as a guard dog. Having three heads, it is highly aggressive when it or what it's guarding is threatened, and it is not suggested to cross one. Given a XXXXX rating by the Ministry of Magic. Known to, in some cases, fall asleep when music is played." Hermione looked away from the book at Angelica. "But what could it be guarding?"
Angelica bit her lip, thinking. "Maybe . . . Maybe it's guarding something for the school? Professor Flitwick got a bit side-tracked talking a bout ward stones last class: maybe the school's is getting old and needs to be protected while a newer, stronger one is created?"
"Possibly . . . " Hermione said, nibbling on a finger nail. "I'll keep an eye out. Thank you for helping me, Angelica."
The Ravenclaw nodded. "Yeah . . . Hey, Hermione?"
"Yes?"
"Do you want to be friends?" Angelica winced slightly - that was too blunt, Hermione would think she was the biggest dork ever, now . . .
But she didn't. Hermione, on the contrary, lit up and beamed at Angelica. "Yes!" she squealed. "I'd love to be friends!" She stepped forward and hugged Angelica tightly.
Angelica smiled. She had a friend a girl friend.
Things were looking up.
.
AN/AR: An altar is pretty much what it sounds like. It's usually where rituals are held, spells are cast, etc. It can be anything from a shoebox that can hold all the ritual tools and carried around until it needs to be set up, to a boulder(:D) to a coffee table to . . . You get the point. It's a flat surface used for religious purposes. There's generally a candle on one side for the god and on the other side for the goddess. Sometimes there will be a figuring representing them, too. It generally faces either North or East. In the centre there's usually a pentacle.
You can find out more about all the Wiccan stuff I reference at : paganwiccan . About. Com Just take out the spaces by the periods.
And . . . yeah. Finished the chap, and couldn't resist posting. Oops?
- Merc.