Wishes

By: Airelle Vilka

Chapter 7 The First Gryffindor

A/N: All subsequent Quidditch terms (except for Direct Drop) and rules are gratefully taken from Quidditch Through The Ages by Kennilworthy Whisp.

The Illusions professor's feet emitted a dull crunch on the snow as she walked quickly towards the Quidditch field. The sky was already darkening above; she was late by at least an hour. Not enough bad words were in Airelle's mind to hurl at herself; otherwise, she'd have done it. What kind of a person was she? What sort of supposed example and role model-- if she was being ravaged by silly idiotic dreams and was then ruining her personal life by them?

Idiot, idiot, she thought again. Try and take a little afternoon nap and look what happens. Not only does Voldemort appear in your nightmares, but now he's taking on… forms… Uuuugggghhh….

Airelle pushed her ponytail back from her face violently and stalked past the Professors' broom shed. It took her a minute to realize she had to double back. With an uncharacteristic growl, the former Auror whirled on her heel and retraced her steps, blue scarf trailing behind her like an angry snake.

The door opened with some difficulty because of the snow, but otherwise Airelle had no problem in finding her Nimbus 2001, tied magically to a post in the corner amid several others. She released the broom from its spell and it floated gently in front of her. A degree of comfort seeped through her veins; her Nimbus, it seemed, was the only part of her life not affected by Hogwarts and the things that went on there. She mounted it -- never sideways, of course -- and soared out the door, feeling happy for the first time since her classes the previous day.

The Quidditch field was empty; she had half expected it to be. The seats above the stadium gleamed serenely in the semi-darkness. Airelle, circling quietly above, realized just how many memories flew here, as much as in every part of Hogwarts…

"Aaaaand… James Potter outmaneuvers the hapless Slytherin seeker with an impeccable Wronski Feint! Smooth move to help Sirius Black, who whizzes -- isn't that a lovely broom-- past the distracted Beater and gets in ten more points for Gryffindor! Meanwhile, Gryffindor keeper Marks does a perfect Starfish and Stick move to block Chaser Lucius Malfoy-- Malfoy is angry and performs a Reverse Pass to Goeding—but wait, the Quaffle is seized by Chaser Lupin-- oh this is too good-- Malfoy tries to… blatch Lupin!! --foul!! Penalty awarded to Gryffindor!"

A roar rose up from the stadium, and banners of red and gold shone magnificently in the spring sun. Cheers erupted from one side, and boos from the Slytherin end of the crowd could not drown them out.

"What are you doing here, Snape?" asked Peter Pettigrew loudly from the back row as the thin Slytherin boy made his way towards the far side of the field. "Come to watch your pals lose miserably?" Snape did not even look at him, and kept his head high.

"Shut up, Pettigrew," snapped Airelle, who had suddenly appeared from the crowd and waved to Snape, her neutral black robes fluttering gently in the wind.

"You wouldn't be so brave if your friends weren't there to protect your paltry hide," said Snape, eyes shining malevolently.

"That so?" sneered Peter, turning to Airelle. "Cheering for Slytherin, are you now, Vilka? I thought Ravenclaws had better judgment than that."

"Funny," said Airelle. "I thought Gryffindors had more brains than that. I guess we were both wrong."

And they walked off.

Airelle sighed. Where were all these people now? James Potter was dead, Lupin a werewolf, Black a convict on the run, and all that was left of Pettigrew was a finger. He had gotten Order of Merlin, First Class, for his heroic death in the capture of Sirius Black. Somehow, Airelle could not fit together how he deserved it. Well, perhaps he had been brave on the inside; maybe she, as a non-Gryffindor, could not see it. But then again, she had seen it in Neville, and so many others. Peter Pettigrew had never struck her as too brave--

A figure stirring on the side of the field caught her attention, and Airelle swooped down. She had played Chaser on her Ravenclaw team back in her Hogwarts days, and was glad to see that she had not forgotten how to do a Direct Drop. Even if her Auror skill had not reinforced her broom riding, Airelle doubted she would've ever forgotten the feel of a broom in the game of wizards.

"I thought you'd gone already," she said, dismounting her broom and walking closer. Should she apologize for being late…? Yeah.

Neville Longbottom shifted around in the snow and said, "Hullo, Professor."

"Forgive me for not meeting you earlier, I was--"

A smile lit up his rotund cheeks. "It is fine, I'm sure you had a reason."

Airelle smiled back. "Very well. But I hope you didn't go to Hogsmeade today just because of this."

He sighed. "No, no, I just did not feel like going."

"Oh… all right then. So, shall we begin?" she asked in a friendly tone (even though she did not believe the student's previous comment).

"I suppose so…"

So what was Airelle Vilka doing here? The answer lay within something that had happened more than a week previously…

A knock sounded on her door, and a timid voice called from beyond. "Professor Vilka?"

Airelle looked up from her papers. "Yes?" she asked. "Enter."

It opened, and in walked Neville. He was carrying a cauldron in his hand, books inside, and looked very uncomfortable. Airelle had just finished grading his report for Illusions, and quickly turned it over.

"Neville," she said, smiling. "You were just here for class… did you forget something again?"

"No, Professor," he mumbled, wringing his hands.

"Then what's wrong?"

"I--umm…"

"Go on," she said. "I'm not going to bite if you say something wrong."

"Err… I was wondering…"

"Is this going to take a while?" she asked. Neville looked terrified.

"No, Professor-- I'm sorry to bother you-- I'll come back later, if you wish--"

"Oh, Longbottom," she laughed, "take a seat, I'm not angry."

He had almost been out the door, but now turned around. "You're not?"

"The only time I'll probably grow angry with a student is when he or she tries to hex me," smiled Airelle, motioning Neville to an empty chair next to her desk. "So, what's troubling you?" She had a vague idea it would be Potions. Snape did not like Neville too much, and, according to what she'd heard, he was Neville's worst fear. Somehow, Airelle did not have any trouble fathoming how anyone could be scared of her best friend. Just because he did not cause revulsion or fear in her, it did not mean everyone else felt the same way. And Snape was not a pleasant person by nature, to be sure.

Longbottom sat down, and absentmindedly took a book from his cauldron, placing it on the desk.

"Neville, put the book down, you aren't in class, remember?" she laughed again.

"Oh, no, sorry--" He made to put it away, but the cover caught Airelle's eye.

"What's this?" she asked, craning her neck. "Quidditch Through the Ages? So that's what you came to talk to me about, isn't it?"

He nodded slowly. "Please, Professor, I know you'll think me inane, but I've never been as good as… my friends on a broom, and I just wish… Well, you seem to understand--" (suddenly Airelle remembered the way he'd conceded to go on the Illusions slide a week earlier) "-- and I was hoping--"

He paused. Airelle kept looking at him. She wanted him to say the words himself. "Go on."

"Ah, it is silly anyway…"

"Just say it."

"I know that, as a former Auror, you must be a good broom-rider. So, I thought you could maybe help me to fly better."

"Was that so hard, Longbottom?" grinned Airelle. Neville looked up, hopeful.

"Well, I am set to go to Hogsmeade tomorrow," said Airelle, drumming her fingers on the desk, "but the Saturday after, I'll be glad to help you."

"Really?"

"Yes, Longbottom, really," she said. "It shall be our little secret. So, six o'clock, next Saturday, be on the Quidditch field."

"Professor, are you sure that-- I mean, you haven't seen me fly-- I'm not really any good--" he began, but Airelle lifted a hand.

"Neville, if you can overcome fear of one thing and be good at it, then you may do the same with others," she said, picking up a facedown paper from her desk. "Now," she continued, handing him the Illusions report, "I shall see you next Friday in class, and next Saturday for practice."

Neville beamed. "Yes, Professor," he said, and walked out the door, leaving Airelle wondering when he'd have the courage to unfold the report and discover the A that was written on top in sparkling blue ink.

"All right, Neville, now do a turn sideways and head back towards me!" Airelle shouted over the wind that had picked up over the two hours they had been there. "And mind the current!"

The Gryffindor fifth-year made an attempt (a good one, in Airelle's opinion) to shift direction, but failed as a wind gust picked him up and threw the nose of his broom downwards, sending him careening towards the ground. Airelle was prepared for this and sent a Cushion Charm to bounce him upwards. It took powerful magic to interfere with a broom; thank heaven Airelle had it.

"Silly," she said, helping Neville fly up again, "you have to learn to navigate the wind. Don't fight it, and it'll help you. Just watch." She made her Nimbus soar up and performed a Double Eight Loop, a high-speed Keeper move, around the three goal posts on one side of the field, then raced on her broom five hundred feet to the opposite end, zigzagging back and forth as if she were part of a Woollongong Shimmy. Airelle then returned to Neville, who was floating in the air and staring at her in amazement.

"I used to be a Chaser for the Ravenclaws years ago," she explained, hovering some feet above him. "And, I've perfected my abilities since I became an Auror. But you don't need to be an Auror to fly like a pro… now, go on, try it again-- and this time, remember what I said."

Longbottom nodded and pursed his lips. He went away from Airelle – a bad start, the tail of his broom was shaking-- but he kept going; the wind roared as he rose higher and the Illusions professor watched him, wand ready-- and she thought the boy had faltered as a rush of air crashed into him-- he was surely going to fall again--

But then, in a remarkable second, Neville twisted his broom and used the current to rise up and turn. Another gust picked him up like a wave would a surfer, and he whooshed across the field, finally halting a foot or so away from Airelle.

Both looked stunned for a second, and then Airelle began to clap so hard she nearly fell off her Nimbus.

"Did you see that, Professor?" he beamed as their brooms went closer to the ground. "I cannot believe-- did I just do that?"

"You sure did, Neville," she said. "You see? If you can't control a broom by yourself that well, let the wind be your ride. And soon, you will learn to manipulate it just as the best fliers do. Then, you'll have the best of both worlds!"

They jumped off the brooms into the snow. The wind had wiped away the footprints they'd made two hours ago, and the Quidditch field looked very wholesome and untouched.

"Professor," asked Neville, his face red, "do you think one day I could fly as well as--"

"As well as any of the people on the Gryffindor team," finished Airelle for him. A glad look passed through Neville's eyes. Was he perhaps thinking of playing Quidditch?

"So, are we practicing next Saturday?" she asked.

Neville stopped in his tracks. "You mean-- again?"

"One lesson isn't going to teach you anything, Longbottom," said Airelle. "I hope you know that."

Neville smiled. "All right then."

"Good," replied Airelle. "Before breakfast then, a week from now."

"I will," said Neville. "Thank you--"

"It is my job to help students, after all," she answered as they headed off in different directions. "Farewell, Longbottom."

"Good night, Professor!" And he walked away towards the castle, tattered broom dragging behind him, while Airelle, resolving to get a good rest away from her nightmare-prone room at Hogwarts, headed towards Rubeus Hagrid's little cabin on the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest. Hopefully, Hagrid could still make that good tea she'd liked as a student…

To be continued…