Chapter 11- It's Hard to Find Good Help These Days
From the Desk of Harry James Potter
Dear Ginny,
Since I am such a kind, considerate husband, I decided not to wake you up to report on the doings of your darling dog this morning. I felt that the offenses would probably look much nicer on paper, as clear, concise arguments for kicking out the miserable scrap of fur.
If being awakened at five bloody AM is one of joys of owning a dog, I would like to share this joy with someone else. Particularly someone far, far away that can't bother to tell us about it. That horrible little mongrel had the nerve to wake me up this morning by CHEWING on my hand. Have you ever been awakened by the sensation of someone GNAWING on your first finger?
Coated in dog spit, I got up, only to STEP in what I believe was a strategically placed pile of dog mess. Or perhaps I should just put it as you do, "Shoebox did his business." Yes, all over the rug.
After preparing a small, meager breakfast before leaving for work, as I do work extremely hard, saving lives all day.I accidentally dropped my slice of toast on the ground. Feeling extremely lucky, that it actually landed butter side up, I reach down for it, only to discover, that the five ounce dog had found the strength to ZOOM across the kitchen floor and practically CHOKE himself gobbling down MY slice of toast, like a deranged glutton. The bloody piece of toast was bigger than him.
Angered, yet calm and collected, I resolved to shut the pig in the pantry as proper punishment, until one of his more adequate owners saw fit to discover him. It was then, just before I was about to leave for work, that I made the startling discovery that the family 'pet' has it in for house elves. The shrieking and yapping coming from the pantry was loud enough to wake the dead. To pacify our resident house elves, (might I add, they were in the house first.before this little nightmare came along), I released Shoebox from the pantry only to realize he "Did his business" on the floor again and he saw my boots as an extreme threat to his well-being, due to him viciously trying to attack them. I thoughtfully resisted the urge to stomp on him, as I felt it would be slightly inconsiderate of me to not allow my son the joy of owning this wretched animal.
Anyhow, now that I am slightly behind in my morning paperwork, I shall offer you the following words with the utmost sincerity, to you, my beautiful wife.
I love you. Very much.
I hate the bloody dog. Very much.
Love,
Harry
P.S. I'm sending carbon copies of this letter to Sirius so don't even bother.. This means war between the dog and me, you know. You should probably let the mutt know about my perfect win/loss record in past wars.
~*~
September passed as quickly as it had come, and the castle was a sight to be seen with the autumn leaves falling to the ground in bright reds, yellows, and shocking oranges that reminded Chloe of the none other than the Canons and the upcoming Quidditch season.
They spent free afternoons on the grounds and in the courtyards, enjoying the crisp weather. They studied, and Meghan and Chloe tried to help Finn as much as they could, but mostly, they all preferred to watch Monster scamper wildly after leaves blown around by the wind and joke with each other.
Chloe was taking a break from her Defense Against the Dark Arts studying and lying on the grass, halfway paying attention to Meg trying to help Finn with Transfiguration.
"Did you write to your dad about our Astronomy lesson?" Meghan asked, while Transfiguring a pebble into a marble.
Chloe smiled to herself, remembering.
~*~
Things weren't looking cheerful when the Slytherins decided they were going to torment the Gryffindors in the first Astronomy lesson of the year. The fact that they outnumbered the Gryffindors two to one enthralled them and they had done nothing but jeer at them from their side of the room
Kincaid was vowing murder under his breath if another parchment wad zoomed across the room. Meghan was busily sketching ugly caricatures.
Chloe buried herself in her Astronomy book and hoped that maybe Aidan Malfoy would crawl over there and join them. He didn't seem to care about the taunting and was reading calmly.
When a parchment ball hit poor Posy Biddle in the neck, Kincaid bolted up like a shot and glared at the Slytherins. "You let the person who threw that come over here and I'll punch his ugly face in!"
"He's talking!" laughed a Slytherin. "Sounds like a big stupid ape!"
"Ignore them, Kincaid," Calixta said with a toss of her shiny black hair.
"At least he doesn't look like an ape," Chloe said, smoothing out a star chart that had been tucked in her textbook.
Meghan picked up the parchment they had thrown at Posy and uncrumpled it. "Isn't it nice of them to give me the paper to draw them on?"
It was times like this when Chloe truly loved being in Gryffindor. The people in her year were wonderful and she always felt as though she belonged with them. She liked something different about every one of them. Except one. He was just there. They paid him no excess attention, because that's what it seemed like what he wanted.
Chloe wanted more than anything to beat him at the academic contest. She simply had to. The very thought of Aidan winning something to represent Gryffindor, when he was so very much not one of them, made her skin crawl. He might as well been a House Ghost, following them all around. Not that Aidan talked to Nearly Headless Nick either.
Chloe's nightmares came and went, but there had not been another incident where she woke up screaming. She only sat up, her heart racing, and stared at the curtains of her four-poster until she drifted back to sleep. If sleep didn't come, she got her Bauble out of her trunk and read until she couldn't keep her eyes open.
Meghan didn't know any of this was going on, and Chloe didn't dare tell her. She was sure Meg would write to her parents. On the days that she got little sleep, Chloe felt even more incentive to work even harder in her classes.
The door opened and a pretty woman walked in. She had red hair and green eyes with lots of eyelashes. "Good evening, class," she said smiling with a perfect smile. "Welcome to Astronomy, I'm Professor Hubble."
"She can't throw students off the Astronomy Tower," Chloe whispered. "I think that's just a story to try and scare first years."
Professor Hubble's robes were a deep earthy green and along the bottom hem, there were shiny beads that tinkled as she walked. "Shall we call the roll before we get started?" Again, she smiled perfectly at them and sat on the edge of the table, crossing her ankles. "I'd like to learn everyone's name this evening."
The Slytherins were glancing at one another, obviously not quite knowing what to make of this new breed of teacher.
The roll call went as usual, with Professor Hubble taking extra care to pronounce their names correctly. Then....
"Meghan Weas--," Professor Hubble said, drifting off at the end of Meghan's name. She looked up sharply and her eyes darted from student to student.
Meghan gave a funny look to Chloe and tentatively raised a hand. "Erm. Present."
"Weasley," Professor Hubble repeated to herself. She gazed at Meghan, her attention drawn to Meg's red curls. Professor Hubble pressed her lips together, with her perfectly applied maroon lipstick, and made a checkmark next to Meg's name.
Meghan stared back, utterly mystified.
"Another," Professor Hubble was murmuring to herself. "I can't believe it...they just keep appearing..." She looked up and smiled brightly. "Tell me, Meghan, who are your parents? Your name looks quite familiar to me."
"Penelope and Percy Weasley," Meghan said, for once, not knowing what to do with herself. "I have a brother and a sister here too...maybe that's why?"
Professor Hubble's sandaled foot caused the beads on her skirt to jingle as her foot ticked. "Yes, I know your brother and sister. They're very well behaved.it never occurred to me to think them to be related to those Weasl-- , well, that's beside the point. Do you have any uncles?"
Meghan did a quick count on her fingers by way of habit. "Six."
"Six?" Professor Hubble raised an eyebrow. "An Uncle Bill perhaps?"
Meghan nodded slowly, almost reluctantly.
"I see..." Professor Hubble said in a testy voice. "I used to know him. You'll have to send him an owl, telling him about this class...." She glanced down at the roll and smirked slightly.
Meghan slunk down in her chair, her blue eyes very wide. "Okay."
~*~
"She seems okay," Finn said happily afterwards "I really liked using the telescopes. I understood the whole lesson!"
Meghan's jaw dropped. "Are you kidding?"
Chloe burst out laughing and smoothed her hair away from her face. "Meghan Weasley," she teased in her best Professor Hubble voice.
"I thought she was going to eat me!" Meghan cried. "Did you see the way she looked at me?! She was going to pull a cauldron out of the back and make a stew out of me!"
"You'd be a terrible stew," Chloe grinned. "Maybe a nice broth and noodles. I like her. I think she's nice."
Meghan took a swing at Chloe with her sketchpad. "This isn't funny! She really hates me, and only because I'm a Weasley! I can tell!"
"You could write to Uncle Bill," Chloe suggested, dodging the sketchpad and laughing.
"Oh yeah," Meghan scoffed. "Dear Uncle Bill, Could you kindly tell me what you did to Professor Hubble to make her want to shove me off the side of the Astronomy Tower?"
"Sounds okay," Chloe replied with a merry look in Finn's direction.
"Shove it," Meghan scowled. "Teachers always love Cath and Morty.and when it gets to me, they decide they should get rid of the bad egg!"
"There's one in every dozen," Chloe sighed dramatically.
Meghan shrieked and took off after Chloe down the corridor. "I'm going to tell her who your mother is!"
~*~
Hogwarts Hero Returns to his Roots
By Ronald Weasley, Quidditch Today Correspondent.
By now, the story is legendary in European Quidditch. It was the final day of the league season, and the second place Chudley Cannons were playing at home against first place Puddlemere United, and the winner of this game would almost surely win the league. The biggest side story of the game was the Chudley Cannons star Keeper was playing against the team that originally signed him.
Any fan of Quidditch can tell you the rest. Five minutes into the game, that Keeper, the legendary Oliver Wood, tore his rotator cuff muscle in his right arm (a muscle in the shoulder that allows the arm to move in a circle), and therefore could not throw the Quaffle the entire game. Every time he made a save, and there were many that night, a Chaser had to come back and take the Quaffle from him to restart the attack. He played heroically that night, and inspired his Cannons on to victory and the League Championship.
Only Cannons fans, and former teammates, can tell you the rest of the story. Wood first plied his future trade at the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, where he was a member of the Gryffindor House Team, and Captain beginning his Fifth Year. While he was there, he won only one House Championship, due solely to events beyond his control.
The hero has returned to his roots, now. This time, though, not just Gryffindor, but all four houses will get to benefit from his long experience and single-minded drive, for he has been named Hogwarts Flying Instructor, to replace the retiring Madam Hooch. Although Gryffindor can most certainly use his leadership, as the current team is in a sorry state, Wood is going to have to remain unbiased.
There are a few drawbacks to this selection, the first, and largest, being that Oliver Wood is almost obsessed with the subject of Quidditch. He eats, sleeps, and breathes Quidditch and has serious problems with anybody who disagrees with this lifestyle. Deputy Headmistress Granger, who hired him to be the Flying Instructor, clearly believes that this personality trait will make him a good instructor for his young charges.
An obstacle he faces is the lack of funding for Quidditch. Due to budget troubles, Hogwarts has found it easiest to cut funds for Quidditch, as opposed to showing any real creativity in stretching the budget in other ways. In particular, Deputy Headmistress Granger has shown a real lack of flexibility when setting the budget for what is obviously necessary to turn out properly educated and well-rounded students. If the past is any indication, though, Oliver will not only turn around the budget and the Quidditch at Hogwarts, he will take them to new heights not seen for quite some time.
~*~
The grass smelled fresh and damp after a cool afternoon shower and the bottom hems of their robes grew damp as they trekked out onto the castle grounds.
"Gryffindor hasn't won a game in seven years," Chloe said. "And no one seems to want to do anything about it. I tried asking a few older students who was on the Quidditch team, but none of them seemed to know."
"Maybe the Quidditch team doesn't want to admit to it," Meg grinned.
"They hired a new Flying teacher," Alexander commented. "I wonder what they'll do about it."
"You shouldn't have any troubles with Flying," Chloe told Finn. "Remember? My dad said that he was on the Quidditch team with your mum."
"Is he sure?" Finn said. "My mum really doesn't seem the broomstick type. But, maybe I'll be good at Flying."
"Flying is okay," Harry Carrington said, walking next to them with his comfortable lope. "Falling s'not so bad either."
"Yeah, it's the hitting the ground part that's a real bother," Alexander teased. "Carrington has tried for years to learn how to bounce."
"Of course she's the broomstick type!" Chloe insisted. "I've heard some really great stories!"
The rusty door to the broom shed screamed in protest when someone pushed it open completely. A younger-looking wizard appeared, balancing a trunk on one of his shoulders, striding towards them energetically.
"Is that the teacher?" Posy asked, saying what they all were wondering.
"That's.." Chloe stared hard.
The man was within speaking distance of them before she could finish her thought.
"Call me Oliver," he said dropping the trunk forcefully on the ground. He crossed his arms over his khaki flying robes and looked them over. "I'm not a professor and you're not going to like me enough to call me sir or Mr. Wood. Oliver will suit me fine."
"That's Oliver Wood!" Chloe whispered to Meghan. "He's a real professional Quidditch player!"
"Let's get something clear," Oliver continued, kicking the trunk open with his boot. The trunk held an old Quidditch set. "I'm not here to prance around like some damn teacher. So don't expect me to act like one. This isn't a Flying class."
"Could have sworn that's what the time-table said," Alexander muttered out of the corner of his mouth.
"Line up!" Oliver barked.
The first-years tripped over one another to try and comply with him as quickly as possible.
Oliver pulled the Quaffle out of the box. It was extremely worn out, Spellotaped in several places and looked very tired and sagging. "Do you know when the last time Gryffindor won a Quidditch cup?"
Chloe was in mute amazement. It was like he jumped out of one of her Quidditch cards.
He stopped pacing and swung around, face to face with Aidan Malfoy. "Well?!"
Aidan's mouth opened slightly, taken by surprise. "I don't know," he stuttered.
"He doesn't know the answer!" Chloe whispered delightedly.
"Wrong!" Oliver bellowed, hurling the Quaffle at Aidan.
Aidan caught the old Quaffle directly in the stomach with a loud 'Oof!' and he stumbled backwards and fell.
The first-years all gave a collective gasp of shock.
Chloe and Meghan shared an astonished glance. Was that allowed?
"Help him up!" Oliver said with exasperation. "Are you in the same house or not?"
Kincaid and Alexander came to their senses and grabbed Aidan by the elbows, hauling him to his feet. "Come on, mate," Kincaid grunted.
Aidan brushed off his robes and didn't reply.
"Why don't we make this a little simpler...." Oliver didn't seem fazed by their reactions and reached into the trunk and pulled out a Beater bat.
Calixta gave a small scream.
Oliver rolled his eyes. "Oh for pity's sake, you're in Gryffindor. Suck it up!"
He hit the bat rhythmically against his calloused palm and paced around them again. "Now then, in the past four years, how many games has Gryffindor won?"
"Is this a.quiz?" Harry squeaked.
Oliver turned slowly. "Is this a quiz?" He smiled slightly and shook his head.
The Gryffindors sighed with relief.
"NO!" Oliver roared, swooping down to Harry's level. "IT'S NOT A BLOODY QUIZ! IT'S THE INFORMATION YOU WILL MEMORIZE IF YOU WANT TO MAKE IT OUT OF MY CLASS!
"The answer, boys and girls, is ZERO. EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU SHOULD BE HANGING YOUR HEADS AND SOBBING WITH SHAME!"
They all hung their heads as if they had lead weights attached to their foreheads. Calixta was even choking with small sobs, probably more out of fear than shame.
"I'm just going to drop out of school and become a starving artist," Meghan was vowing under her breath. "I'll live a lot longer. and starving has to be better than this.
"That's better," Oliver said in a perfectly normal calm tone. "Now, can anyone tell me what we're going to do about this?"
Chloe lifted her eyes from the grass slowly. "Learn how to fly better than everyone?"
"Yes," Oliver nodded, still perfectly calm. A few more people ventured to glance up again. "This is not a Flying class. Every single one of you will learn not only how to fly, but how to play Quidditch also. This ridiculous policy that the school has about optional broom training does not APPLY to any member in Gryffindor house. AUDEN!"
A young man hurried out of the broom shed, hauling a wheeled cart full of broomsticks. He had a finely featured face, lanky build and dark honey colored hair. Chloe recognized him from the train ride as the boy that had accidentally burst into their compartment and she had later found out that he was in Mortimer's year.
"This is Kinsley Auden," Oliver announced, clapping a hand on Kinsley's shoulder. "You will treat him with the same respect that you treat me. I am allowing him to help out in class, as he is your Quidditch Captain."
Kinsley gave a casual two-fingered salute and winked, before tossing brooms out of the cart onto the grass. Oliver surveyed his work and inspected all the brooms closely.
Alexander snorted. "What a brown-noser."
"He is not!" Calixta answered, who had been staring raptly at Kinsley.
"He's in third year and he's the captain?" Chloe said in bewilderment.
"Well, that explains the not winning any games...."
"It's his first year as captain and second year on the team," Alexander informed them.
"Okay," Oliver said, tromping back over to them, robes flapping. "We're going to start from the very beginning, as not all of us are familiar with Flying."
He held out a broom with one hand and jammed it into the ground, bristle side up.
"Can anyone tell me what this is?"
There was a pregnant pause as they eyed him and the broomstick carefully. Meghan, of course, was the first to break down.
"A broomstick," Meghan snorted, trying to keep a straight face. "Used for sweeping or flying."
"Wrong!" Oliver said, glaring at her. "Give me five push-ups and ten points from Gryffindor. Kinsley, give me another broom."
Meghan's mouth dropped open and her hands landed directly on her hips. "The ground is dirty," Meghan replied, her head cocked to the side. "Why would I get on the ground when that's exact opposite where we want to be in this class. Doesn't flying take place the air?"
Chloe sighed and began composing a letter to Aunt Penny and Uncle Percy in her head.
Dear Aunt Penny and Uncle Percy,
I'm really sorry, but Meghan was shaken to death by the Flying teacher today. She didn't have a good time to begin with the Astronomy Professor and something about Uncle Bill...but then she decided to take on Oliver Wood because she refused to get her robes dirty.
Oliver's chin lowered as he locked gazes with her. Meghan was unfazed, obviously angry enough to fight back. "You are pushing your limits," he said cooly.
"You're yelling at us for something we didn't do," Meghan replied huffily.
Chloe elbowed Meghan sharply. "Meghan!"
Oliver crossed his arms, and surprisingly, he was very calm. "Would you prefer to run around the Quidditch pitch instead, your highness?"
"Hmph!" Meghan answered, doing her five-pushups. "I don't like flying."
"Glad to hear it," Oliver said, glancing at his watch. "You're a Weasley, aren't you?"
"Yes," Meghan replied grumpily.
"Then we'll get along nicely, won't we? Stay after class and help Kinsley clean the broom shed," Oliver replied, "Next time any of you decide to get cheeky with me, I'll make the entire class run laps around the pitch. Is that clear?"
"Yes," they all answered gloomily. The pitch was in view from the castle grounds and it looked enormous.
Kinsley handed Oliver another broom and he held it out for them to get a closer look. "Now, I'm going to ask again, what is this?"
More silence. Chloe sighed inwardly. Why did Flying have to turn out like this? The one class she really was looking forward to. Maybe he was asking for a specific sort of broom.
"The lettering is worn down," Chloe spoke up, squinting at the broom. "But I'm pretty sure.well, I think it's an old Shooting Star."
Oliver nodded. "Ten points to Gryffindor. She's right. It's an old Shooting Star. Terrible shape. Do you see the cracks along the handle and how broken and misshapen the bristles are? The alignment is shot to ribbons and you couldn't fix it if you wanted to. It's not going to corner worth a damn. Anyone want to guess what this broom is worth?"
Chloe shrugged. The rest of the Gryffindors looked at each other blankly.
Oliver cracked the broom over his knee, and it snapped with a loud pop. He threw the two halves behind him, narrowly missing Kinsley.
"That's how much," Oliver said to their gaping expressions. "Your school seems to think that Quidditch needs next to no funding and leaves you those pathetic excuses for broomsticks that are worth their weight in firewood kindling to fly on!
"Therefore," he continued, "today's lesson is to safely fall off your broomsticks, because I refuse to teach anyone how to fly on those pathetic excuses.of whatever those are. Your homework is to write home to your parents and ask them to demand more funding for magical sports and donations to the school Quidditch fund."
Meghan's interest was sparked like a fuse on a stick of dynamite. "You mean.we're going to protest?"
Oliver started tossing them each brooms and grinned with a wicked twinkle in his blue eyes. "Of course not, Weasley. But these brooms would make a right pretty bonfire on the head of the school board's front yard."
"I might like Flying after all!" Meghan answered with enthusiasm.
~*~
After class, Chloe followed Meghan to the broom shed. Class had been tough, despite the fact that she already knew how to fly. Oliver worked them all very hard, and throwing oneself off a broom onto the ground was very painful, Chloe had discovered.
They were filthy. They both had dirt going up one side of their robes, leaves and grass in their hair and felt very sticky and sweaty. The sooner the broomshed could be cleaned, the better.
Meghan rapped on the tin door and they poked their heads inside.
Kinsley was pushing a huge lumpy gray pile of..well.something out of the corner. "Come in and get to work then." He peered at Chloe. "What are you doing here? I thought Oliver only told the smart-aleck to come clean."
Chloe shrugged. "I'm Chloe. I reckoned you might want an extra hand."
"I'm not a smart-mouth," Meghan retorted. "He asked a question and I answered it."
Kinsley jerked his thumb towards a broom resting on a rusty wall. "You got what you deserved. Go sweep." He pushed his hair out of his face, standing up. "You can haul these outside since you want to help so much, Cassie."
"Chloe," Chloe corrected him. "She's Meghan."
"That's nice," Kinsley said, shaking his head.
Chloe grudgingly picked up an armful of the smelly gray cloth. "What are these things?"
"Old Practice uniforms," Kinsley answered, zapping a spider web with his wand. "I'd guess they've been in here for about a decade.who knows if they washed them."
"Gross," Chloe muttered, setting to work.
They worked in silence for a long time and the sun was starting to set when Kinsley stopped scouring the side of the wall. "Who is the blond boy in your year? The one that no one talks to."
Chloe paused and glanced at Meg. "That's Aidan."
"Aidan," Kinsley repeated.
"And we don't talk to him because he doesn't talk to us," Meghan added.
Kinsley continued scrubbing the wall, the metal brush grating against the tin wall. "So, what's the deal with him? He's shy? Stupid? Crazy?"
Chloe shrugged. "He doesn't want to talk to anyone. He only speaks to the teachers and Finn when he feels like it."
"Then why don't you talk to him?" Kinsley asked, pushing up his robe sleeve again. "He's in your year."
"We don't like each other," Chloe replied flatly, scrubbing the floor as hard as she could.
Kinsley turned and smiled. "You don't like each other? Because you talk so much?"
"It's a little more complicated than that." Chloe dunked her scrub brush in the water and moved to another spot on the floor.
"Leave her alone," Meghan said, coming to Chloe's defense. "If you want to help him, go ahead, but leave Chloe alone."
Kinsley laughed slightly. "So you and Aidan have a past, eh?" he said, amused. "What he'd do? Steal your teddy bear?"
"It's none of your business," Chloe snapped. "Why are you picking on us?"
"You two are really a piece of work, you know that?"
Meghan slammed the lid on a Quidditch trunk. "Thanks."
"Hey there," Kinsley said, holding his hands up. "Don't get your feathers all blown the wrong way. I'm just making conversation."
"Or sticking your nose where it doesn't belong," Meghan retorted.
Kinsley laughed outright and pushed his hair back again. "Okay, but let me get this straight...you two don't talk to Aidan because something happened a long time ago. That makes the rest of your house not talk to him."
"No," Chloe frowned. "That doesn't make sense at all. Why are you trying to make this our fault?"
"You're in Gryffindor, right?"
"Of course," Meghan scoffed. "Can't you read?"
"And so is Aidan," Kinsley said simply. "He's in your house and you've never spoken to him. None of you have."
Chloe rubbed her forehead with the back of her palm. "If you feel so sorry for him, you talk to him. He's in your house too."
"Wouldn't make any difference. He's in your year," Kinsley answered. "Obviously you have something in common as you're in the same house. And do you know what I think?"
"I think you should worry about winning a Quidditch match," Meg said acidly.
"I think you two are the ones that your house is going to follow the leads of. You two don't talk to Aidan, so the rest of your house follows suit."
Chloe was silent. He just didn't understand.
"You might as well be in Slytherin. You're snobs and no better than he is if you say he won't talk to you. It works both ways, you know."
Chloe shoved the bucket of water over and felt hot tears spill over her cheeks and she looked at the floor.
Meghan rushed to Chloe's side and hugged her shoulders protectively. "You big bully!" she shouted at Kinsley. "Go work with your stupid Quidditch team. Why can't anyone leave her alone?"
Kinsley's face softened some when he saw Chloe start to cry, so he kneeled by her. "Look, kid, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you cry. Your friend is right, it isn't any of my business and I was too hard on you...please don't cry."
Chloe wiped her eyes, embarrassed. She hadn't been so sensitive about things until she came to school. "It's okay."
Faintly, the bell that signaled it was dinnertime tolled from the castle.
"Come on," Kinsley said, taking her hand and pulling her up. "You two go to the castle and get cleaned up so you can eat dinner. Don't worry about the broom shed. Are you okay?"
"Yeah, she's great," Meghan said sarcastically. "She really loves being insulted. Those are tears of joy...."
Kinsley gave Meghan a withering look. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt her feelings."
" ~*~
Hermione was just finishing a letter to a parent when the fireplace in her office blazed up. She set her quill down and walked over to pull the piece of parchment, fluttering in the purple flames.
Request to speak to Hermione Granger-Weasley. Harry Potter.
Hermione lifted the top of one the pretty ceramic jars that lined the fireplace mantle, next to Laura's picture. She dropped a pinch of gray powder into the flames.
The flames spluttered and flickered brightly and then Harry's profile appeared, his elbow resting on his desk, chin in his hand.
"And then what happened?"
"This giant.great toothed beast picked up my hiding spot and shook it as hard as he could! You should have.the roar sir, you should have heard the roar!"
Hermione could just see a pair of excited hands with wrists clad in Auror blue waving excitedly in front of Harry.
"It picked up your hiding spot. Shook you and roared at you," Harry repeated, tapping the side of his face with his fingertips.
"Oh yes, sir!" screeched the Auror, his hand hitting the edge of Harry's desk with enthusiasm. "I never saw anything like it, and then I was almost thrown into a pit! Everything was shaking so hard I thought my teeth were going to rattle right out of my mouth!"
"And then?"
There came a sound of boots stepping forward. "Then the emergency backup team arrived to get him out of the mess, sir. Had to memory wipe the Muggles, they heard him screaming his head off, sir." The boots stepped back again.
Harry ran a hand through his hair, causing it to stick up briefly and then join the other hairs in their usual disarray. "A giant great toothed beast."
"Yes, sir!"
"Lieutenant Phipps?" Harry nodded toward the direction of where Hermione supposed the boots to be standing.
"Sir?"
"Take Silvas out for a nice lunch and politely explain a dumpster and a rubbish truck. Sounds like he's had a very.enlightening first day in the Muggle world. You're dismissed."
Harry picked up his quill and scratched his name on a parchment. He took a drink from a mug and swallowed hard when he noticed Hermione smiling at him.
''Sorry!" he said wiping the side of his mouth, turning his chair to face her. "I didn't expect those officers to be here...."
"It's okay," Hermione answered. "I have an appointment with someone, but not until later."
Harry picked up something off his desk. "Hermione, we've been friends for a long time, right?"
Hermione nodded pleasantly. "It seems like just yesterday we were running around Hogwarts, getting into every scrape.."
Harry smiled ever so briefly. "Sure. And through all those years, we've helped each other."
Hermione paused a beat. "Yes...."
"And if one of us makes a bad decisi-"
"What?"
Harry jerked what he had been holding into view. Hermione was just able to glance at the heading. "YOU HIRED OLIVER WOOD?!"
Hermione's mouth opened indignantly. "Harry! What on earth?"
Harry shook the magazine fiercely. "Have you lost your mind?! Do you REMEMBER Oliver?"
Hermione rolled her eyes. "He's an adult, Harry. For heaven's sake, I can't believe you're reacting like this. He played professional Quidditch, what more could you ask for qualifications?"
"QUALIFICATIONS!?" roared Harry. "I want my daughter back in one piece at Christmas!"
Hermione watched his glasses slide down his nose in his passion. "I don't appreciate you questioning my judgment in what makes a good teacher."
Harry snorted. "I have very good faith in your judgment, but not concerning Flying!"
"Oliver is a very good teacher," said Hermione. "You, Harry, are the first person to complain about him."
"Because he's probably already scared them into submission," Harry groaned. "How could...how could you put Oliver in charge of groups of children! Please tell me you gave him a psychological screening."
Hermione burst out laughing. "Are you listening to yourself? Have you had a psychological screening for yourself? You're blowing things out of proportion!"
"You putting things under-proportion!"
Hermione sighed and tapped her nails on her desk. "Harry, under proportion is not a real phrase...."
"Hermione! Would you listen to me?"
"You're just worried about Chloe," Hermione said in a soothing tone. "Remember how you would always tell Remus and Sirius they were worrying too much about you?"
Harry held up the magazine he was holding and cleared his throat. "There are a few drawbacks to this selection though. The first, and largest, being that Oliver Wood is obsessed with the subject of Quidditch."
"That's dedication!" Hermione said, shaking her head.
Harry didn't reply, but kept reading. " He eats, sleeps, and breathes Quidditch and has serious problems with anybody who disagrees." Harry raised his eyebrows. "Let me tell you what the subtext is... Oliver likes Quidditch a lot. Nothing should come in your way of getting a Quidditch Cup, because if you just happen to die in the process, they can solder it to your gravestone!"
"You of all people know better than to believe everything you read from the press. I refuse to trust the opinions of some reporter wanting to sell more Quidditch magazines!"
"Article written by Ron Weasley," Harry read to himself in a thoughtful tone. "Oh."
Hermione snapped her head up. "He said he was writing an article on the new Bludger designs suggested by the League! He didn't know who the new Flying Instructor was until a week ago! I told him over dinner!"
"You've got a nice little mention," Harry said casually. "But, Hermione, it's just some reporter wanting to sell more Quidditch magazines! Surely you're above reading yellow press...."
Hermione sighed. "May I see the article?"
"My point is proven," Harry said, sticking the magazine on the end of a pair of fire tongs. It plopped on Hermione's hearth with slightly singed corners.
"This is unbelievable," Hermione fumed, flipping through the magazine. "If I wasn't his wife, I would sue him!"
"Well, it is an editorial," Harry put in, obviously very pleased with himself. "I'll leave you to that article."
"Wait," Hermione glanced up at him. "Do you know if Ginny got a letter I sent her awhile ago? I never got a reply from her and I reckoned she was just busy with everything."
"Letter," he said slowly. "We get so many, what was it about?"
"Oh, about Chloe. I'm sure you two discussed it."
Harry squinted, appearing to think hard. "Oh, yes. About that Howler?"
"Yes, so you got it?"
"Oh yes," Harry nodded, "I definitely...uh, came across it. I think Chloe understands what we expect of her now. "
Hermione smiled, satisfied. "I knew a letter would solve the whole problem. It was so minor to begin with, but I knew Ginny would want a letter. The communication between you two is wonderful!"
Harry smiled with a funny look on his face and was silent.
There was a loud rapping at Hermione's door and Harry seemed to be glad to hear it. "Right! I'll let you get back to work."
Hermione plopped the magazine on her desk with a heavy sigh after Harry disappeared. "Come in, please."
Her door creaked open and Oliver strolled into her office, perfectly cheerful. "Deputy."
Hermione pulled a stack of parchment from her desk. "Mr. Wood, we have a serious problem."
"I agree," Oliver said, nodding with gusto. "I knew I could depend on you, Hermione. A fellow Gryffindor alumna! Go Lions, eh!" He shook his fist enthusiastically at her.
"You are not paid to advocate funding for this school," Hermione replied, watching Oliver's cheerleader face fall flat. "Enlighten me as to why I've been sent over two dozen owls from parents, asking why they must send money to the Flying teacher."
Oliver's genuine smile returned. "Think of it as a fundraiser!"
"Four Hufflepuffs were in sobbing fits. What is going on in your class?"
"A rigorous training program," Oliver answered promptly. "Those Badger pansies have another think coming if they think they're going to get by with the flying they've been practicing. You'll have the best flyers this side of Europe! Give me my funding, and I'll get it done twice as quickly."
Hermione decided to go with a different tactic. "Oliver," she said kindly. "I'm on your side, really, but it's extremely hard to get money like you're asking for."
Oliver's dimples appeared and he shot her another photo-shoot grin. "We can solve that problem ourselves. I have many ways of overcoming that hurdle."
Hermione felt a headache coming on, but she mustn't let Harry know that she felt that hiring Oliver wasn't exactly the wisest choice she had made. "Oliver, I appreciate.your.avant-garde teaching tactics.but.."
"So you're coming to the demonstration then, Deputy?"
Hermione frowned, trying to possible work out how she had forgotten an upcoming school event. "I'm sorry?"
"The bonfire demonstration in front of the head of the school board's yard," Oliver said, in a voice that could have also asked her to an afternoon tea. "I'm sure the Headmaster would like to come too."
Somehow, Hermione managed not to scream.
~*~
Author note : Thanks to Anne, Ami, Michael, and Jilly for beta reading.
I had a guest author this chapter! Michael wrote Ron's Quidditch article at my request. Thank you, Michael!
Come visit the new improved Chloe's Bookshelf. You can find us at www.geocities.com/caitlyn_mc
From the Desk of Harry James Potter
Dear Ginny,
Since I am such a kind, considerate husband, I decided not to wake you up to report on the doings of your darling dog this morning. I felt that the offenses would probably look much nicer on paper, as clear, concise arguments for kicking out the miserable scrap of fur.
If being awakened at five bloody AM is one of joys of owning a dog, I would like to share this joy with someone else. Particularly someone far, far away that can't bother to tell us about it. That horrible little mongrel had the nerve to wake me up this morning by CHEWING on my hand. Have you ever been awakened by the sensation of someone GNAWING on your first finger?
Coated in dog spit, I got up, only to STEP in what I believe was a strategically placed pile of dog mess. Or perhaps I should just put it as you do, "Shoebox did his business." Yes, all over the rug.
After preparing a small, meager breakfast before leaving for work, as I do work extremely hard, saving lives all day.I accidentally dropped my slice of toast on the ground. Feeling extremely lucky, that it actually landed butter side up, I reach down for it, only to discover, that the five ounce dog had found the strength to ZOOM across the kitchen floor and practically CHOKE himself gobbling down MY slice of toast, like a deranged glutton. The bloody piece of toast was bigger than him.
Angered, yet calm and collected, I resolved to shut the pig in the pantry as proper punishment, until one of his more adequate owners saw fit to discover him. It was then, just before I was about to leave for work, that I made the startling discovery that the family 'pet' has it in for house elves. The shrieking and yapping coming from the pantry was loud enough to wake the dead. To pacify our resident house elves, (might I add, they were in the house first.before this little nightmare came along), I released Shoebox from the pantry only to realize he "Did his business" on the floor again and he saw my boots as an extreme threat to his well-being, due to him viciously trying to attack them. I thoughtfully resisted the urge to stomp on him, as I felt it would be slightly inconsiderate of me to not allow my son the joy of owning this wretched animal.
Anyhow, now that I am slightly behind in my morning paperwork, I shall offer you the following words with the utmost sincerity, to you, my beautiful wife.
I love you. Very much.
I hate the bloody dog. Very much.
Love,
Harry
P.S. I'm sending carbon copies of this letter to Sirius so don't even bother.. This means war between the dog and me, you know. You should probably let the mutt know about my perfect win/loss record in past wars.
~*~
September passed as quickly as it had come, and the castle was a sight to be seen with the autumn leaves falling to the ground in bright reds, yellows, and shocking oranges that reminded Chloe of the none other than the Canons and the upcoming Quidditch season.
They spent free afternoons on the grounds and in the courtyards, enjoying the crisp weather. They studied, and Meghan and Chloe tried to help Finn as much as they could, but mostly, they all preferred to watch Monster scamper wildly after leaves blown around by the wind and joke with each other.
Chloe was taking a break from her Defense Against the Dark Arts studying and lying on the grass, halfway paying attention to Meg trying to help Finn with Transfiguration.
"Did you write to your dad about our Astronomy lesson?" Meghan asked, while Transfiguring a pebble into a marble.
Chloe smiled to herself, remembering.
~*~
Things weren't looking cheerful when the Slytherins decided they were going to torment the Gryffindors in the first Astronomy lesson of the year. The fact that they outnumbered the Gryffindors two to one enthralled them and they had done nothing but jeer at them from their side of the room
Kincaid was vowing murder under his breath if another parchment wad zoomed across the room. Meghan was busily sketching ugly caricatures.
Chloe buried herself in her Astronomy book and hoped that maybe Aidan Malfoy would crawl over there and join them. He didn't seem to care about the taunting and was reading calmly.
When a parchment ball hit poor Posy Biddle in the neck, Kincaid bolted up like a shot and glared at the Slytherins. "You let the person who threw that come over here and I'll punch his ugly face in!"
"He's talking!" laughed a Slytherin. "Sounds like a big stupid ape!"
"Ignore them, Kincaid," Calixta said with a toss of her shiny black hair.
"At least he doesn't look like an ape," Chloe said, smoothing out a star chart that had been tucked in her textbook.
Meghan picked up the parchment they had thrown at Posy and uncrumpled it. "Isn't it nice of them to give me the paper to draw them on?"
It was times like this when Chloe truly loved being in Gryffindor. The people in her year were wonderful and she always felt as though she belonged with them. She liked something different about every one of them. Except one. He was just there. They paid him no excess attention, because that's what it seemed like what he wanted.
Chloe wanted more than anything to beat him at the academic contest. She simply had to. The very thought of Aidan winning something to represent Gryffindor, when he was so very much not one of them, made her skin crawl. He might as well been a House Ghost, following them all around. Not that Aidan talked to Nearly Headless Nick either.
Chloe's nightmares came and went, but there had not been another incident where she woke up screaming. She only sat up, her heart racing, and stared at the curtains of her four-poster until she drifted back to sleep. If sleep didn't come, she got her Bauble out of her trunk and read until she couldn't keep her eyes open.
Meghan didn't know any of this was going on, and Chloe didn't dare tell her. She was sure Meg would write to her parents. On the days that she got little sleep, Chloe felt even more incentive to work even harder in her classes.
The door opened and a pretty woman walked in. She had red hair and green eyes with lots of eyelashes. "Good evening, class," she said smiling with a perfect smile. "Welcome to Astronomy, I'm Professor Hubble."
"She can't throw students off the Astronomy Tower," Chloe whispered. "I think that's just a story to try and scare first years."
Professor Hubble's robes were a deep earthy green and along the bottom hem, there were shiny beads that tinkled as she walked. "Shall we call the roll before we get started?" Again, she smiled perfectly at them and sat on the edge of the table, crossing her ankles. "I'd like to learn everyone's name this evening."
The Slytherins were glancing at one another, obviously not quite knowing what to make of this new breed of teacher.
The roll call went as usual, with Professor Hubble taking extra care to pronounce their names correctly. Then....
"Meghan Weas--," Professor Hubble said, drifting off at the end of Meghan's name. She looked up sharply and her eyes darted from student to student.
Meghan gave a funny look to Chloe and tentatively raised a hand. "Erm. Present."
"Weasley," Professor Hubble repeated to herself. She gazed at Meghan, her attention drawn to Meg's red curls. Professor Hubble pressed her lips together, with her perfectly applied maroon lipstick, and made a checkmark next to Meg's name.
Meghan stared back, utterly mystified.
"Another," Professor Hubble was murmuring to herself. "I can't believe it...they just keep appearing..." She looked up and smiled brightly. "Tell me, Meghan, who are your parents? Your name looks quite familiar to me."
"Penelope and Percy Weasley," Meghan said, for once, not knowing what to do with herself. "I have a brother and a sister here too...maybe that's why?"
Professor Hubble's sandaled foot caused the beads on her skirt to jingle as her foot ticked. "Yes, I know your brother and sister. They're very well behaved.it never occurred to me to think them to be related to those Weasl-- , well, that's beside the point. Do you have any uncles?"
Meghan did a quick count on her fingers by way of habit. "Six."
"Six?" Professor Hubble raised an eyebrow. "An Uncle Bill perhaps?"
Meghan nodded slowly, almost reluctantly.
"I see..." Professor Hubble said in a testy voice. "I used to know him. You'll have to send him an owl, telling him about this class...." She glanced down at the roll and smirked slightly.
Meghan slunk down in her chair, her blue eyes very wide. "Okay."
~*~
"She seems okay," Finn said happily afterwards "I really liked using the telescopes. I understood the whole lesson!"
Meghan's jaw dropped. "Are you kidding?"
Chloe burst out laughing and smoothed her hair away from her face. "Meghan Weasley," she teased in her best Professor Hubble voice.
"I thought she was going to eat me!" Meghan cried. "Did you see the way she looked at me?! She was going to pull a cauldron out of the back and make a stew out of me!"
"You'd be a terrible stew," Chloe grinned. "Maybe a nice broth and noodles. I like her. I think she's nice."
Meghan took a swing at Chloe with her sketchpad. "This isn't funny! She really hates me, and only because I'm a Weasley! I can tell!"
"You could write to Uncle Bill," Chloe suggested, dodging the sketchpad and laughing.
"Oh yeah," Meghan scoffed. "Dear Uncle Bill, Could you kindly tell me what you did to Professor Hubble to make her want to shove me off the side of the Astronomy Tower?"
"Sounds okay," Chloe replied with a merry look in Finn's direction.
"Shove it," Meghan scowled. "Teachers always love Cath and Morty.and when it gets to me, they decide they should get rid of the bad egg!"
"There's one in every dozen," Chloe sighed dramatically.
Meghan shrieked and took off after Chloe down the corridor. "I'm going to tell her who your mother is!"
~*~
Hogwarts Hero Returns to his Roots
By Ronald Weasley, Quidditch Today Correspondent.
By now, the story is legendary in European Quidditch. It was the final day of the league season, and the second place Chudley Cannons were playing at home against first place Puddlemere United, and the winner of this game would almost surely win the league. The biggest side story of the game was the Chudley Cannons star Keeper was playing against the team that originally signed him.
Any fan of Quidditch can tell you the rest. Five minutes into the game, that Keeper, the legendary Oliver Wood, tore his rotator cuff muscle in his right arm (a muscle in the shoulder that allows the arm to move in a circle), and therefore could not throw the Quaffle the entire game. Every time he made a save, and there were many that night, a Chaser had to come back and take the Quaffle from him to restart the attack. He played heroically that night, and inspired his Cannons on to victory and the League Championship.
Only Cannons fans, and former teammates, can tell you the rest of the story. Wood first plied his future trade at the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, where he was a member of the Gryffindor House Team, and Captain beginning his Fifth Year. While he was there, he won only one House Championship, due solely to events beyond his control.
The hero has returned to his roots, now. This time, though, not just Gryffindor, but all four houses will get to benefit from his long experience and single-minded drive, for he has been named Hogwarts Flying Instructor, to replace the retiring Madam Hooch. Although Gryffindor can most certainly use his leadership, as the current team is in a sorry state, Wood is going to have to remain unbiased.
There are a few drawbacks to this selection, the first, and largest, being that Oliver Wood is almost obsessed with the subject of Quidditch. He eats, sleeps, and breathes Quidditch and has serious problems with anybody who disagrees with this lifestyle. Deputy Headmistress Granger, who hired him to be the Flying Instructor, clearly believes that this personality trait will make him a good instructor for his young charges.
An obstacle he faces is the lack of funding for Quidditch. Due to budget troubles, Hogwarts has found it easiest to cut funds for Quidditch, as opposed to showing any real creativity in stretching the budget in other ways. In particular, Deputy Headmistress Granger has shown a real lack of flexibility when setting the budget for what is obviously necessary to turn out properly educated and well-rounded students. If the past is any indication, though, Oliver will not only turn around the budget and the Quidditch at Hogwarts, he will take them to new heights not seen for quite some time.
~*~
The grass smelled fresh and damp after a cool afternoon shower and the bottom hems of their robes grew damp as they trekked out onto the castle grounds.
"Gryffindor hasn't won a game in seven years," Chloe said. "And no one seems to want to do anything about it. I tried asking a few older students who was on the Quidditch team, but none of them seemed to know."
"Maybe the Quidditch team doesn't want to admit to it," Meg grinned.
"They hired a new Flying teacher," Alexander commented. "I wonder what they'll do about it."
"You shouldn't have any troubles with Flying," Chloe told Finn. "Remember? My dad said that he was on the Quidditch team with your mum."
"Is he sure?" Finn said. "My mum really doesn't seem the broomstick type. But, maybe I'll be good at Flying."
"Flying is okay," Harry Carrington said, walking next to them with his comfortable lope. "Falling s'not so bad either."
"Yeah, it's the hitting the ground part that's a real bother," Alexander teased. "Carrington has tried for years to learn how to bounce."
"Of course she's the broomstick type!" Chloe insisted. "I've heard some really great stories!"
The rusty door to the broom shed screamed in protest when someone pushed it open completely. A younger-looking wizard appeared, balancing a trunk on one of his shoulders, striding towards them energetically.
"Is that the teacher?" Posy asked, saying what they all were wondering.
"That's.." Chloe stared hard.
The man was within speaking distance of them before she could finish her thought.
"Call me Oliver," he said dropping the trunk forcefully on the ground. He crossed his arms over his khaki flying robes and looked them over. "I'm not a professor and you're not going to like me enough to call me sir or Mr. Wood. Oliver will suit me fine."
"That's Oliver Wood!" Chloe whispered to Meghan. "He's a real professional Quidditch player!"
"Let's get something clear," Oliver continued, kicking the trunk open with his boot. The trunk held an old Quidditch set. "I'm not here to prance around like some damn teacher. So don't expect me to act like one. This isn't a Flying class."
"Could have sworn that's what the time-table said," Alexander muttered out of the corner of his mouth.
"Line up!" Oliver barked.
The first-years tripped over one another to try and comply with him as quickly as possible.
Oliver pulled the Quaffle out of the box. It was extremely worn out, Spellotaped in several places and looked very tired and sagging. "Do you know when the last time Gryffindor won a Quidditch cup?"
Chloe was in mute amazement. It was like he jumped out of one of her Quidditch cards.
He stopped pacing and swung around, face to face with Aidan Malfoy. "Well?!"
Aidan's mouth opened slightly, taken by surprise. "I don't know," he stuttered.
"He doesn't know the answer!" Chloe whispered delightedly.
"Wrong!" Oliver bellowed, hurling the Quaffle at Aidan.
Aidan caught the old Quaffle directly in the stomach with a loud 'Oof!' and he stumbled backwards and fell.
The first-years all gave a collective gasp of shock.
Chloe and Meghan shared an astonished glance. Was that allowed?
"Help him up!" Oliver said with exasperation. "Are you in the same house or not?"
Kincaid and Alexander came to their senses and grabbed Aidan by the elbows, hauling him to his feet. "Come on, mate," Kincaid grunted.
Aidan brushed off his robes and didn't reply.
"Why don't we make this a little simpler...." Oliver didn't seem fazed by their reactions and reached into the trunk and pulled out a Beater bat.
Calixta gave a small scream.
Oliver rolled his eyes. "Oh for pity's sake, you're in Gryffindor. Suck it up!"
He hit the bat rhythmically against his calloused palm and paced around them again. "Now then, in the past four years, how many games has Gryffindor won?"
"Is this a.quiz?" Harry squeaked.
Oliver turned slowly. "Is this a quiz?" He smiled slightly and shook his head.
The Gryffindors sighed with relief.
"NO!" Oliver roared, swooping down to Harry's level. "IT'S NOT A BLOODY QUIZ! IT'S THE INFORMATION YOU WILL MEMORIZE IF YOU WANT TO MAKE IT OUT OF MY CLASS!
"The answer, boys and girls, is ZERO. EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU SHOULD BE HANGING YOUR HEADS AND SOBBING WITH SHAME!"
They all hung their heads as if they had lead weights attached to their foreheads. Calixta was even choking with small sobs, probably more out of fear than shame.
"I'm just going to drop out of school and become a starving artist," Meghan was vowing under her breath. "I'll live a lot longer. and starving has to be better than this.
"That's better," Oliver said in a perfectly normal calm tone. "Now, can anyone tell me what we're going to do about this?"
Chloe lifted her eyes from the grass slowly. "Learn how to fly better than everyone?"
"Yes," Oliver nodded, still perfectly calm. A few more people ventured to glance up again. "This is not a Flying class. Every single one of you will learn not only how to fly, but how to play Quidditch also. This ridiculous policy that the school has about optional broom training does not APPLY to any member in Gryffindor house. AUDEN!"
A young man hurried out of the broom shed, hauling a wheeled cart full of broomsticks. He had a finely featured face, lanky build and dark honey colored hair. Chloe recognized him from the train ride as the boy that had accidentally burst into their compartment and she had later found out that he was in Mortimer's year.
"This is Kinsley Auden," Oliver announced, clapping a hand on Kinsley's shoulder. "You will treat him with the same respect that you treat me. I am allowing him to help out in class, as he is your Quidditch Captain."
Kinsley gave a casual two-fingered salute and winked, before tossing brooms out of the cart onto the grass. Oliver surveyed his work and inspected all the brooms closely.
Alexander snorted. "What a brown-noser."
"He is not!" Calixta answered, who had been staring raptly at Kinsley.
"He's in third year and he's the captain?" Chloe said in bewilderment.
"Well, that explains the not winning any games...."
"It's his first year as captain and second year on the team," Alexander informed them.
"Okay," Oliver said, tromping back over to them, robes flapping. "We're going to start from the very beginning, as not all of us are familiar with Flying."
He held out a broom with one hand and jammed it into the ground, bristle side up.
"Can anyone tell me what this is?"
There was a pregnant pause as they eyed him and the broomstick carefully. Meghan, of course, was the first to break down.
"A broomstick," Meghan snorted, trying to keep a straight face. "Used for sweeping or flying."
"Wrong!" Oliver said, glaring at her. "Give me five push-ups and ten points from Gryffindor. Kinsley, give me another broom."
Meghan's mouth dropped open and her hands landed directly on her hips. "The ground is dirty," Meghan replied, her head cocked to the side. "Why would I get on the ground when that's exact opposite where we want to be in this class. Doesn't flying take place the air?"
Chloe sighed and began composing a letter to Aunt Penny and Uncle Percy in her head.
Dear Aunt Penny and Uncle Percy,
I'm really sorry, but Meghan was shaken to death by the Flying teacher today. She didn't have a good time to begin with the Astronomy Professor and something about Uncle Bill...but then she decided to take on Oliver Wood because she refused to get her robes dirty.
Oliver's chin lowered as he locked gazes with her. Meghan was unfazed, obviously angry enough to fight back. "You are pushing your limits," he said cooly.
"You're yelling at us for something we didn't do," Meghan replied huffily.
Chloe elbowed Meghan sharply. "Meghan!"
Oliver crossed his arms, and surprisingly, he was very calm. "Would you prefer to run around the Quidditch pitch instead, your highness?"
"Hmph!" Meghan answered, doing her five-pushups. "I don't like flying."
"Glad to hear it," Oliver said, glancing at his watch. "You're a Weasley, aren't you?"
"Yes," Meghan replied grumpily.
"Then we'll get along nicely, won't we? Stay after class and help Kinsley clean the broom shed," Oliver replied, "Next time any of you decide to get cheeky with me, I'll make the entire class run laps around the pitch. Is that clear?"
"Yes," they all answered gloomily. The pitch was in view from the castle grounds and it looked enormous.
Kinsley handed Oliver another broom and he held it out for them to get a closer look. "Now, I'm going to ask again, what is this?"
More silence. Chloe sighed inwardly. Why did Flying have to turn out like this? The one class she really was looking forward to. Maybe he was asking for a specific sort of broom.
"The lettering is worn down," Chloe spoke up, squinting at the broom. "But I'm pretty sure.well, I think it's an old Shooting Star."
Oliver nodded. "Ten points to Gryffindor. She's right. It's an old Shooting Star. Terrible shape. Do you see the cracks along the handle and how broken and misshapen the bristles are? The alignment is shot to ribbons and you couldn't fix it if you wanted to. It's not going to corner worth a damn. Anyone want to guess what this broom is worth?"
Chloe shrugged. The rest of the Gryffindors looked at each other blankly.
Oliver cracked the broom over his knee, and it snapped with a loud pop. He threw the two halves behind him, narrowly missing Kinsley.
"That's how much," Oliver said to their gaping expressions. "Your school seems to think that Quidditch needs next to no funding and leaves you those pathetic excuses for broomsticks that are worth their weight in firewood kindling to fly on!
"Therefore," he continued, "today's lesson is to safely fall off your broomsticks, because I refuse to teach anyone how to fly on those pathetic excuses.of whatever those are. Your homework is to write home to your parents and ask them to demand more funding for magical sports and donations to the school Quidditch fund."
Meghan's interest was sparked like a fuse on a stick of dynamite. "You mean.we're going to protest?"
Oliver started tossing them each brooms and grinned with a wicked twinkle in his blue eyes. "Of course not, Weasley. But these brooms would make a right pretty bonfire on the head of the school board's front yard."
"I might like Flying after all!" Meghan answered with enthusiasm.
~*~
After class, Chloe followed Meghan to the broom shed. Class had been tough, despite the fact that she already knew how to fly. Oliver worked them all very hard, and throwing oneself off a broom onto the ground was very painful, Chloe had discovered.
They were filthy. They both had dirt going up one side of their robes, leaves and grass in their hair and felt very sticky and sweaty. The sooner the broomshed could be cleaned, the better.
Meghan rapped on the tin door and they poked their heads inside.
Kinsley was pushing a huge lumpy gray pile of..well.something out of the corner. "Come in and get to work then." He peered at Chloe. "What are you doing here? I thought Oliver only told the smart-aleck to come clean."
Chloe shrugged. "I'm Chloe. I reckoned you might want an extra hand."
"I'm not a smart-mouth," Meghan retorted. "He asked a question and I answered it."
Kinsley jerked his thumb towards a broom resting on a rusty wall. "You got what you deserved. Go sweep." He pushed his hair out of his face, standing up. "You can haul these outside since you want to help so much, Cassie."
"Chloe," Chloe corrected him. "She's Meghan."
"That's nice," Kinsley said, shaking his head.
Chloe grudgingly picked up an armful of the smelly gray cloth. "What are these things?"
"Old Practice uniforms," Kinsley answered, zapping a spider web with his wand. "I'd guess they've been in here for about a decade.who knows if they washed them."
"Gross," Chloe muttered, setting to work.
They worked in silence for a long time and the sun was starting to set when Kinsley stopped scouring the side of the wall. "Who is the blond boy in your year? The one that no one talks to."
Chloe paused and glanced at Meg. "That's Aidan."
"Aidan," Kinsley repeated.
"And we don't talk to him because he doesn't talk to us," Meghan added.
Kinsley continued scrubbing the wall, the metal brush grating against the tin wall. "So, what's the deal with him? He's shy? Stupid? Crazy?"
Chloe shrugged. "He doesn't want to talk to anyone. He only speaks to the teachers and Finn when he feels like it."
"Then why don't you talk to him?" Kinsley asked, pushing up his robe sleeve again. "He's in your year."
"We don't like each other," Chloe replied flatly, scrubbing the floor as hard as she could.
Kinsley turned and smiled. "You don't like each other? Because you talk so much?"
"It's a little more complicated than that." Chloe dunked her scrub brush in the water and moved to another spot on the floor.
"Leave her alone," Meghan said, coming to Chloe's defense. "If you want to help him, go ahead, but leave Chloe alone."
Kinsley laughed slightly. "So you and Aidan have a past, eh?" he said, amused. "What he'd do? Steal your teddy bear?"
"It's none of your business," Chloe snapped. "Why are you picking on us?"
"You two are really a piece of work, you know that?"
Meghan slammed the lid on a Quidditch trunk. "Thanks."
"Hey there," Kinsley said, holding his hands up. "Don't get your feathers all blown the wrong way. I'm just making conversation."
"Or sticking your nose where it doesn't belong," Meghan retorted.
Kinsley laughed outright and pushed his hair back again. "Okay, but let me get this straight...you two don't talk to Aidan because something happened a long time ago. That makes the rest of your house not talk to him."
"No," Chloe frowned. "That doesn't make sense at all. Why are you trying to make this our fault?"
"You're in Gryffindor, right?"
"Of course," Meghan scoffed. "Can't you read?"
"And so is Aidan," Kinsley said simply. "He's in your house and you've never spoken to him. None of you have."
Chloe rubbed her forehead with the back of her palm. "If you feel so sorry for him, you talk to him. He's in your house too."
"Wouldn't make any difference. He's in your year," Kinsley answered. "Obviously you have something in common as you're in the same house. And do you know what I think?"
"I think you should worry about winning a Quidditch match," Meg said acidly.
"I think you two are the ones that your house is going to follow the leads of. You two don't talk to Aidan, so the rest of your house follows suit."
Chloe was silent. He just didn't understand.
"You might as well be in Slytherin. You're snobs and no better than he is if you say he won't talk to you. It works both ways, you know."
Chloe shoved the bucket of water over and felt hot tears spill over her cheeks and she looked at the floor.
Meghan rushed to Chloe's side and hugged her shoulders protectively. "You big bully!" she shouted at Kinsley. "Go work with your stupid Quidditch team. Why can't anyone leave her alone?"
Kinsley's face softened some when he saw Chloe start to cry, so he kneeled by her. "Look, kid, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you cry. Your friend is right, it isn't any of my business and I was too hard on you...please don't cry."
Chloe wiped her eyes, embarrassed. She hadn't been so sensitive about things until she came to school. "It's okay."
Faintly, the bell that signaled it was dinnertime tolled from the castle.
"Come on," Kinsley said, taking her hand and pulling her up. "You two go to the castle and get cleaned up so you can eat dinner. Don't worry about the broom shed. Are you okay?"
"Yeah, she's great," Meghan said sarcastically. "She really loves being insulted. Those are tears of joy...."
Kinsley gave Meghan a withering look. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt her feelings."
" ~*~
Hermione was just finishing a letter to a parent when the fireplace in her office blazed up. She set her quill down and walked over to pull the piece of parchment, fluttering in the purple flames.
Request to speak to Hermione Granger-Weasley. Harry Potter.
Hermione lifted the top of one the pretty ceramic jars that lined the fireplace mantle, next to Laura's picture. She dropped a pinch of gray powder into the flames.
The flames spluttered and flickered brightly and then Harry's profile appeared, his elbow resting on his desk, chin in his hand.
"And then what happened?"
"This giant.great toothed beast picked up my hiding spot and shook it as hard as he could! You should have.the roar sir, you should have heard the roar!"
Hermione could just see a pair of excited hands with wrists clad in Auror blue waving excitedly in front of Harry.
"It picked up your hiding spot. Shook you and roared at you," Harry repeated, tapping the side of his face with his fingertips.
"Oh yes, sir!" screeched the Auror, his hand hitting the edge of Harry's desk with enthusiasm. "I never saw anything like it, and then I was almost thrown into a pit! Everything was shaking so hard I thought my teeth were going to rattle right out of my mouth!"
"And then?"
There came a sound of boots stepping forward. "Then the emergency backup team arrived to get him out of the mess, sir. Had to memory wipe the Muggles, they heard him screaming his head off, sir." The boots stepped back again.
Harry ran a hand through his hair, causing it to stick up briefly and then join the other hairs in their usual disarray. "A giant great toothed beast."
"Yes, sir!"
"Lieutenant Phipps?" Harry nodded toward the direction of where Hermione supposed the boots to be standing.
"Sir?"
"Take Silvas out for a nice lunch and politely explain a dumpster and a rubbish truck. Sounds like he's had a very.enlightening first day in the Muggle world. You're dismissed."
Harry picked up his quill and scratched his name on a parchment. He took a drink from a mug and swallowed hard when he noticed Hermione smiling at him.
''Sorry!" he said wiping the side of his mouth, turning his chair to face her. "I didn't expect those officers to be here...."
"It's okay," Hermione answered. "I have an appointment with someone, but not until later."
Harry picked up something off his desk. "Hermione, we've been friends for a long time, right?"
Hermione nodded pleasantly. "It seems like just yesterday we were running around Hogwarts, getting into every scrape.."
Harry smiled ever so briefly. "Sure. And through all those years, we've helped each other."
Hermione paused a beat. "Yes...."
"And if one of us makes a bad decisi-"
"What?"
Harry jerked what he had been holding into view. Hermione was just able to glance at the heading. "YOU HIRED OLIVER WOOD?!"
Hermione's mouth opened indignantly. "Harry! What on earth?"
Harry shook the magazine fiercely. "Have you lost your mind?! Do you REMEMBER Oliver?"
Hermione rolled her eyes. "He's an adult, Harry. For heaven's sake, I can't believe you're reacting like this. He played professional Quidditch, what more could you ask for qualifications?"
"QUALIFICATIONS!?" roared Harry. "I want my daughter back in one piece at Christmas!"
Hermione watched his glasses slide down his nose in his passion. "I don't appreciate you questioning my judgment in what makes a good teacher."
Harry snorted. "I have very good faith in your judgment, but not concerning Flying!"
"Oliver is a very good teacher," said Hermione. "You, Harry, are the first person to complain about him."
"Because he's probably already scared them into submission," Harry groaned. "How could...how could you put Oliver in charge of groups of children! Please tell me you gave him a psychological screening."
Hermione burst out laughing. "Are you listening to yourself? Have you had a psychological screening for yourself? You're blowing things out of proportion!"
"You putting things under-proportion!"
Hermione sighed and tapped her nails on her desk. "Harry, under proportion is not a real phrase...."
"Hermione! Would you listen to me?"
"You're just worried about Chloe," Hermione said in a soothing tone. "Remember how you would always tell Remus and Sirius they were worrying too much about you?"
Harry held up the magazine he was holding and cleared his throat. "There are a few drawbacks to this selection though. The first, and largest, being that Oliver Wood is obsessed with the subject of Quidditch."
"That's dedication!" Hermione said, shaking her head.
Harry didn't reply, but kept reading. " He eats, sleeps, and breathes Quidditch and has serious problems with anybody who disagrees." Harry raised his eyebrows. "Let me tell you what the subtext is... Oliver likes Quidditch a lot. Nothing should come in your way of getting a Quidditch Cup, because if you just happen to die in the process, they can solder it to your gravestone!"
"You of all people know better than to believe everything you read from the press. I refuse to trust the opinions of some reporter wanting to sell more Quidditch magazines!"
"Article written by Ron Weasley," Harry read to himself in a thoughtful tone. "Oh."
Hermione snapped her head up. "He said he was writing an article on the new Bludger designs suggested by the League! He didn't know who the new Flying Instructor was until a week ago! I told him over dinner!"
"You've got a nice little mention," Harry said casually. "But, Hermione, it's just some reporter wanting to sell more Quidditch magazines! Surely you're above reading yellow press...."
Hermione sighed. "May I see the article?"
"My point is proven," Harry said, sticking the magazine on the end of a pair of fire tongs. It plopped on Hermione's hearth with slightly singed corners.
"This is unbelievable," Hermione fumed, flipping through the magazine. "If I wasn't his wife, I would sue him!"
"Well, it is an editorial," Harry put in, obviously very pleased with himself. "I'll leave you to that article."
"Wait," Hermione glanced up at him. "Do you know if Ginny got a letter I sent her awhile ago? I never got a reply from her and I reckoned she was just busy with everything."
"Letter," he said slowly. "We get so many, what was it about?"
"Oh, about Chloe. I'm sure you two discussed it."
Harry squinted, appearing to think hard. "Oh, yes. About that Howler?"
"Yes, so you got it?"
"Oh yes," Harry nodded, "I definitely...uh, came across it. I think Chloe understands what we expect of her now. "
Hermione smiled, satisfied. "I knew a letter would solve the whole problem. It was so minor to begin with, but I knew Ginny would want a letter. The communication between you two is wonderful!"
Harry smiled with a funny look on his face and was silent.
There was a loud rapping at Hermione's door and Harry seemed to be glad to hear it. "Right! I'll let you get back to work."
Hermione plopped the magazine on her desk with a heavy sigh after Harry disappeared. "Come in, please."
Her door creaked open and Oliver strolled into her office, perfectly cheerful. "Deputy."
Hermione pulled a stack of parchment from her desk. "Mr. Wood, we have a serious problem."
"I agree," Oliver said, nodding with gusto. "I knew I could depend on you, Hermione. A fellow Gryffindor alumna! Go Lions, eh!" He shook his fist enthusiastically at her.
"You are not paid to advocate funding for this school," Hermione replied, watching Oliver's cheerleader face fall flat. "Enlighten me as to why I've been sent over two dozen owls from parents, asking why they must send money to the Flying teacher."
Oliver's genuine smile returned. "Think of it as a fundraiser!"
"Four Hufflepuffs were in sobbing fits. What is going on in your class?"
"A rigorous training program," Oliver answered promptly. "Those Badger pansies have another think coming if they think they're going to get by with the flying they've been practicing. You'll have the best flyers this side of Europe! Give me my funding, and I'll get it done twice as quickly."
Hermione decided to go with a different tactic. "Oliver," she said kindly. "I'm on your side, really, but it's extremely hard to get money like you're asking for."
Oliver's dimples appeared and he shot her another photo-shoot grin. "We can solve that problem ourselves. I have many ways of overcoming that hurdle."
Hermione felt a headache coming on, but she mustn't let Harry know that she felt that hiring Oliver wasn't exactly the wisest choice she had made. "Oliver, I appreciate.your.avant-garde teaching tactics.but.."
"So you're coming to the demonstration then, Deputy?"
Hermione frowned, trying to possible work out how she had forgotten an upcoming school event. "I'm sorry?"
"The bonfire demonstration in front of the head of the school board's yard," Oliver said, in a voice that could have also asked her to an afternoon tea. "I'm sure the Headmaster would like to come too."
Somehow, Hermione managed not to scream.
~*~
Author note : Thanks to Anne, Ami, Michael, and Jilly for beta reading.
I had a guest author this chapter! Michael wrote Ron's Quidditch article at my request. Thank you, Michael!
Come visit the new improved Chloe's Bookshelf. You can find us at www.geocities.com/caitlyn_mc