OR DIE TRYING: THE STORY OF CHO CHANG
By monkeymouse
NB: JKRowling built the Potterverse; I'm just redecorating one of the rooms.
Rated: PG-13
Spoilers: Everything
xxx
5. "Get the Snitch."
By Thursday afternoon, whether or not the rest of Ravenclaw had forgotten about her public humiliation, Cho had certainly forgotten about it. There were more important things to think about. Thursday afternoon, she would have her first flying lesson, under Madam Hooch.
She was practically the first one there, just beyond the Hogwarts castle walls at the side closest to the Quidditch stadium. She eyed the stadium hungrily, as she also eyed the twenty-four brooms spread out on the ground in two neat lines.
"Don't know about you, but I've been flying at home for a couple of years," said one of Cho's classmates. This was Pablo Molina, the only other Ravenclaw First-Year to ask already about his chances for next year's Quidditch team.
"So have I," Cho said, hoping that Pablo wouldn't start talking about the virtues of one broom over another. She didn't want to have to admit that she'd only just outgrown her Bruno.
"Look at that lot, will you," sneered Vincent Krixlow, a bright enough student but owner of one of the strangest senses of humour in Ravenclaw. He was looking at the rows of brooms on the ground. "Hey, Pablo, you figure we can get McGonagall to teach us to Transfigure those things into real brooms?"
These were school brooms, and had been used to teach First-Years to fly for years. Consequently, some of them were-to be polite about it-dated. There were quite a few Cleansweeps, a few Comet 260s, and even a couple of Spanish "Imperador" brooms-notorious for being almost impossible to turn.
The talk stopped when they saw Madam Hooch striding from the castle. Nobody could guess her age-she was too old to be young anymore, but she was still too young to be old. She always seemed to move with quick, long- legged strides, which left her robes billowing behind her as if on a windy day. But it was her eyes-golden and glowing like a game-bird-that caught the students' attention.
She apparently didn't believe in speeches, but got right down to business:
"Form two lines facing each other, with a broom on the ground to your right."
The two classes did as they were told. Cho had a fleeting notion that they were lined up for some kind of dance, and almost started giggling.
"Stick your hand out over your broom and say, 'UP!'"
Two dozen arms went out, with varying degrees of success. Most of the students got the broom to jump up into their hands, but only after shouting three or four times. Pablo Molina was one of the few who only had to say "Up!" once.
Cho simply moved her hand over the broom. She didn't say a word, but the broom leapt up into her hand anyway.
Madam Hooch caught this out of the corner of her eye. She caught everything to do with flying, of course. And, as head of Quidditch-related activities at Hogwarts, she couldn't let her judgment be influenced by whether the student was from one House or another.
But, as she explained the basics of flying, her eyes kept coming back to the Chinese girl in Ravenclaw. Cho sat on her broom with an ease born of hours of practice. She'd never ridden a Comet 260 before, but within minutes it was responding quickly and cleanly to Cho's smallest gestures.
Madam Hooch knew that she'd have to say something to her, but waited until class was dismissed.
"Miss Chang! May I have a word?"
Cho wasn't sure if she'd done something wrong again. "Is there a problem, Professor?"
"The only problem is that they won't let a First-Year play Quidditch. May I ask where you learned to fly?"
"Taught myself at home."
"Do you follow Quidditch?"
"Just in the papers. I've only been to a few matches."
"Ever thought of playing yourself?"
"If Hogwarts didn't have Quidditch, I wouldn't have come."
"Hah! I like that!" She looked Cho up and down, and started talking to herself. "Build of a Seeker; of course, three years from now you could be totally different." She raised her voice again: "I want you to do something for me, Miss Chang. Wait here." Madam Hooch almost ran back to her office, then came out with a chest of Quidditch balls. "Have you ever tried chasing a Snitch before?"
"No, ma'am, not really."
"Well, you will now. Let's see what you're made of." Hooch took the Snitch out of the chest. "It's simple enough; I throw this and you catch it. You do know how, right? You said you've been to a match or two?"
"Of course, Madam Hooch."
Without another word, Hooch threw the Snitch straight up. Cho jumped up after it, riding the clunky old Comet 260 that she had used in class.
Once she was a few dozen feet off of the ground, she looked around for the Snitch. She thought it perhaps had escaped, when she saw a blur of gold just behind one of the goalposts. As she moved toward it, it moved away.
She had to think; what would Murray do about this? Murray never had a coherent philosophy of Seeking. Just one rule: Get the Snitch or die trying.
Cho decided she didn't want to go that far just yet, but she'd have to really push herself in order to impress Madam Hooch.
She leaned into the broom, trying to coax as much speed out of the Comet as she could. It seemed to be working, too, because the Snitch was no longer running away as fast or as far. There were moments when Cho could almost touch it.
Then, just as she was gaining on it, it dropped straight down; Cho followed it straight down, not wanting to lose precious time by banking to stay upright. She was headed straight for the ground and would have buried herself nose-first in the pitch if the Snitch hadn't changed course yet again. This time it shot under her, running straight along the ground. Again Cho made a quick turn, not caring that she was flying upside-down, just a foot or two above the grass. She was too close to the Snitch now to lose it.
Something told her that the Snitch would break again; would try another right angle escape; this time straight up, just before it hit the gallery wall. She dared to take her eye off the Snitch, only to watch where she thought it was going to go. And when it broke, it moved straight up, and into Cho's waiting hand.
No sooner did she grab it, though, than she plowed into the canvas banner that hung in front of the gallery. She fell off of her broom, slid the two feet to the ground. She sat there a while, shaken, but holding tightly on to the Snitch.
She was still shaken when Madam Hooch ran up to her. "You may well be self- taught, Cho Chang, but you're the best First-Year flier I've seen in years."
"Can I get on the team, then?"
Hooch gave a surprised laugh. "You ARE the eager one, aren't you? First of all, there are no openings in Ravenclaw. They have an experienced Seeker in Culligan, and he's not bad. Dimsdale, their Reserve Seeker, isn't fit to snip the twigs on your broom. You could take his place easily."
Cho got unsteadily to her feet, still feeling the effect of the crash into the canvas. "Then what do I do, Madam Hooch? I have to play."
"As well you should, and if it were a house other than Ravenclaw, I have no doubt that you would play. But they haven't let a girl on the team since before I started teaching here. So you not only have to catch the Snitch but also get it through the muddied-up mind of Roger Davies that you deserve to play."
"How do I do that?"
"First of all, you have a lot of natural talent, but that by itself won't get you where you want to go. Since you can't play until next year anyway, I want you to work with me. We'll get together for a few hours each week, so that I can teach you some of the fine points of the game. By this time next year, Mister Davies will put you on the team, or I'll demand to know the reason why!"
Cho felt as if her wishes had all come true at once. Private Quidditch lessons from Madam Hooch! "It . it would be an honour, Madam."
"Right. Off with you, then. And, you'd better let me keep that broom apart for you. You got more life out of it than it ever showed before, and I don't want any other student getting it all confused."
Part of Cho wanted to take the Comet 260 back to the dormitory, to keep it under her bed. But, as long as Madam Hooch said it would be kept for her and her alone, she gave it back gladly. Then she literally ran back to Ravenclaw. Wait until her parents read about THIS!
Her parents?! Would they be as excited as she that she showed promise at Quidditch? They had nothing but bad things to say about it up until now. But this surely had to change the picture. "The best First-Year flier in years!" An offer of private lessons! Only good could come of all this.
Supper was already being served when she went into the Great Hall. She found a place between Jan and Pablo.
"You're just getting back now?" Pablo asked.
"Madam Hooch wanted to ask me something."
"Giving her the benefit of your vast experience, no doubt," Francis Macgiver said. But he smiled pleasantly as he said it. That seemed to be Macgiver's personality: he could say some cutting things, but you couldn't stay mad at him for it.
"She didn't take anything else off, did she?" Letitia muttered. She had cost Ravenclaw five points for sitting too far forward and digging a trench with her broom handle.
"It's not that. It's." Without having touched a bite of her food, Cho stood up. "I'll tell you in the Common Room." Without another word, she dashed happily to Ravenclaw, through the Common Room and up to her dormitory.
She entered just as one of her roommates was leaving: an East End girl, Raina al-Qaba, whose parents had come to London from Iran. Nobody had tried to get to know her yet, as far as Cho could tell. She was a Muslim, and always wore a scarf around her head, and left classes and meals at odd times to pray up in the dormitory. Still, Cho thought that they must both seem like outsiders to the rest of the school, and hoped that they could strike up a friendship.
But that could wait until later. She decided, regardless of the way they seemed, that her parents would be more proud than angry about what had just happened. She had to write them. She had to write SOMEBODY.
Not like Amber, a girl she knew in grade school, who used to take the important events in her life and write them up as letters to Harry Potter. True, he'd done something impressive years ago, but where was he now? What was he doing now that he was older? How old was he, anyway.
Stop that, Cho scolded herself; you're stalling. Write!
"Dear Mummy and Daddy-
"This letter is being written by 'the best First-Year flier in years'!!."
xxx
to be continued in part 6, wherein Cho listens to Professor Quirrell lecture in Defense Against the Dark Arts
By monkeymouse
NB: JKRowling built the Potterverse; I'm just redecorating one of the rooms.
Rated: PG-13
Spoilers: Everything
xxx
5. "Get the Snitch."
By Thursday afternoon, whether or not the rest of Ravenclaw had forgotten about her public humiliation, Cho had certainly forgotten about it. There were more important things to think about. Thursday afternoon, she would have her first flying lesson, under Madam Hooch.
She was practically the first one there, just beyond the Hogwarts castle walls at the side closest to the Quidditch stadium. She eyed the stadium hungrily, as she also eyed the twenty-four brooms spread out on the ground in two neat lines.
"Don't know about you, but I've been flying at home for a couple of years," said one of Cho's classmates. This was Pablo Molina, the only other Ravenclaw First-Year to ask already about his chances for next year's Quidditch team.
"So have I," Cho said, hoping that Pablo wouldn't start talking about the virtues of one broom over another. She didn't want to have to admit that she'd only just outgrown her Bruno.
"Look at that lot, will you," sneered Vincent Krixlow, a bright enough student but owner of one of the strangest senses of humour in Ravenclaw. He was looking at the rows of brooms on the ground. "Hey, Pablo, you figure we can get McGonagall to teach us to Transfigure those things into real brooms?"
These were school brooms, and had been used to teach First-Years to fly for years. Consequently, some of them were-to be polite about it-dated. There were quite a few Cleansweeps, a few Comet 260s, and even a couple of Spanish "Imperador" brooms-notorious for being almost impossible to turn.
The talk stopped when they saw Madam Hooch striding from the castle. Nobody could guess her age-she was too old to be young anymore, but she was still too young to be old. She always seemed to move with quick, long- legged strides, which left her robes billowing behind her as if on a windy day. But it was her eyes-golden and glowing like a game-bird-that caught the students' attention.
She apparently didn't believe in speeches, but got right down to business:
"Form two lines facing each other, with a broom on the ground to your right."
The two classes did as they were told. Cho had a fleeting notion that they were lined up for some kind of dance, and almost started giggling.
"Stick your hand out over your broom and say, 'UP!'"
Two dozen arms went out, with varying degrees of success. Most of the students got the broom to jump up into their hands, but only after shouting three or four times. Pablo Molina was one of the few who only had to say "Up!" once.
Cho simply moved her hand over the broom. She didn't say a word, but the broom leapt up into her hand anyway.
Madam Hooch caught this out of the corner of her eye. She caught everything to do with flying, of course. And, as head of Quidditch-related activities at Hogwarts, she couldn't let her judgment be influenced by whether the student was from one House or another.
But, as she explained the basics of flying, her eyes kept coming back to the Chinese girl in Ravenclaw. Cho sat on her broom with an ease born of hours of practice. She'd never ridden a Comet 260 before, but within minutes it was responding quickly and cleanly to Cho's smallest gestures.
Madam Hooch knew that she'd have to say something to her, but waited until class was dismissed.
"Miss Chang! May I have a word?"
Cho wasn't sure if she'd done something wrong again. "Is there a problem, Professor?"
"The only problem is that they won't let a First-Year play Quidditch. May I ask where you learned to fly?"
"Taught myself at home."
"Do you follow Quidditch?"
"Just in the papers. I've only been to a few matches."
"Ever thought of playing yourself?"
"If Hogwarts didn't have Quidditch, I wouldn't have come."
"Hah! I like that!" She looked Cho up and down, and started talking to herself. "Build of a Seeker; of course, three years from now you could be totally different." She raised her voice again: "I want you to do something for me, Miss Chang. Wait here." Madam Hooch almost ran back to her office, then came out with a chest of Quidditch balls. "Have you ever tried chasing a Snitch before?"
"No, ma'am, not really."
"Well, you will now. Let's see what you're made of." Hooch took the Snitch out of the chest. "It's simple enough; I throw this and you catch it. You do know how, right? You said you've been to a match or two?"
"Of course, Madam Hooch."
Without another word, Hooch threw the Snitch straight up. Cho jumped up after it, riding the clunky old Comet 260 that she had used in class.
Once she was a few dozen feet off of the ground, she looked around for the Snitch. She thought it perhaps had escaped, when she saw a blur of gold just behind one of the goalposts. As she moved toward it, it moved away.
She had to think; what would Murray do about this? Murray never had a coherent philosophy of Seeking. Just one rule: Get the Snitch or die trying.
Cho decided she didn't want to go that far just yet, but she'd have to really push herself in order to impress Madam Hooch.
She leaned into the broom, trying to coax as much speed out of the Comet as she could. It seemed to be working, too, because the Snitch was no longer running away as fast or as far. There were moments when Cho could almost touch it.
Then, just as she was gaining on it, it dropped straight down; Cho followed it straight down, not wanting to lose precious time by banking to stay upright. She was headed straight for the ground and would have buried herself nose-first in the pitch if the Snitch hadn't changed course yet again. This time it shot under her, running straight along the ground. Again Cho made a quick turn, not caring that she was flying upside-down, just a foot or two above the grass. She was too close to the Snitch now to lose it.
Something told her that the Snitch would break again; would try another right angle escape; this time straight up, just before it hit the gallery wall. She dared to take her eye off the Snitch, only to watch where she thought it was going to go. And when it broke, it moved straight up, and into Cho's waiting hand.
No sooner did she grab it, though, than she plowed into the canvas banner that hung in front of the gallery. She fell off of her broom, slid the two feet to the ground. She sat there a while, shaken, but holding tightly on to the Snitch.
She was still shaken when Madam Hooch ran up to her. "You may well be self- taught, Cho Chang, but you're the best First-Year flier I've seen in years."
"Can I get on the team, then?"
Hooch gave a surprised laugh. "You ARE the eager one, aren't you? First of all, there are no openings in Ravenclaw. They have an experienced Seeker in Culligan, and he's not bad. Dimsdale, their Reserve Seeker, isn't fit to snip the twigs on your broom. You could take his place easily."
Cho got unsteadily to her feet, still feeling the effect of the crash into the canvas. "Then what do I do, Madam Hooch? I have to play."
"As well you should, and if it were a house other than Ravenclaw, I have no doubt that you would play. But they haven't let a girl on the team since before I started teaching here. So you not only have to catch the Snitch but also get it through the muddied-up mind of Roger Davies that you deserve to play."
"How do I do that?"
"First of all, you have a lot of natural talent, but that by itself won't get you where you want to go. Since you can't play until next year anyway, I want you to work with me. We'll get together for a few hours each week, so that I can teach you some of the fine points of the game. By this time next year, Mister Davies will put you on the team, or I'll demand to know the reason why!"
Cho felt as if her wishes had all come true at once. Private Quidditch lessons from Madam Hooch! "It . it would be an honour, Madam."
"Right. Off with you, then. And, you'd better let me keep that broom apart for you. You got more life out of it than it ever showed before, and I don't want any other student getting it all confused."
Part of Cho wanted to take the Comet 260 back to the dormitory, to keep it under her bed. But, as long as Madam Hooch said it would be kept for her and her alone, she gave it back gladly. Then she literally ran back to Ravenclaw. Wait until her parents read about THIS!
Her parents?! Would they be as excited as she that she showed promise at Quidditch? They had nothing but bad things to say about it up until now. But this surely had to change the picture. "The best First-Year flier in years!" An offer of private lessons! Only good could come of all this.
Supper was already being served when she went into the Great Hall. She found a place between Jan and Pablo.
"You're just getting back now?" Pablo asked.
"Madam Hooch wanted to ask me something."
"Giving her the benefit of your vast experience, no doubt," Francis Macgiver said. But he smiled pleasantly as he said it. That seemed to be Macgiver's personality: he could say some cutting things, but you couldn't stay mad at him for it.
"She didn't take anything else off, did she?" Letitia muttered. She had cost Ravenclaw five points for sitting too far forward and digging a trench with her broom handle.
"It's not that. It's." Without having touched a bite of her food, Cho stood up. "I'll tell you in the Common Room." Without another word, she dashed happily to Ravenclaw, through the Common Room and up to her dormitory.
She entered just as one of her roommates was leaving: an East End girl, Raina al-Qaba, whose parents had come to London from Iran. Nobody had tried to get to know her yet, as far as Cho could tell. She was a Muslim, and always wore a scarf around her head, and left classes and meals at odd times to pray up in the dormitory. Still, Cho thought that they must both seem like outsiders to the rest of the school, and hoped that they could strike up a friendship.
But that could wait until later. She decided, regardless of the way they seemed, that her parents would be more proud than angry about what had just happened. She had to write them. She had to write SOMEBODY.
Not like Amber, a girl she knew in grade school, who used to take the important events in her life and write them up as letters to Harry Potter. True, he'd done something impressive years ago, but where was he now? What was he doing now that he was older? How old was he, anyway.
Stop that, Cho scolded herself; you're stalling. Write!
"Dear Mummy and Daddy-
"This letter is being written by 'the best First-Year flier in years'!!."
xxx
to be continued in part 6, wherein Cho listens to Professor Quirrell lecture in Defense Against the Dark Arts
