A/N: Better late than never: much thanks to my friend Doug, who played the role of editor-in-chief for the beginning chapters. Sorry I was late with that, but credit where credit is due…read on, then!
Chapter 8—Learning to Fly
History of Magic was so boring that it was almost a relief from the chaotic mass hysteria that magic seemed to spark. The teacher was a ghost, a real, semi-transparent, pearly white ghost, named Professor Binns. Rumor had it that he didn't even know he was dead, yet. Ryan couldn't tell, herself, but she was fairly certain that even the most avid of history scholars couldn't stay awake when he began to lecture. There was just something about his voice that made everything he said vastly uninteresting. Five minutes into class, she saw that Ben had marked out "History of Magic" on his schedule and scribbled in "nap time." Fitting, she thought.
By the time Ryan collapsed on her bed back in the Ravenclaw dormitory, she was completely drained by the day's activities. She didn't even realize she had landed on Tabby until her cat began to claw. Wincing, she allowed her cat to escape, then tore off her tie and opened the collar of shirt, It was unbelievably stifling. The only other girl in the room looked up from arranging posters around her bed.
"Muggle-born?" she asked kindly. Ryan didn't even bother looking up at the girl.
"Does it show?" she muttered. The other girl giggled and sat beside her. This time, Ryan did look up. The girl, with her blonde curls and blue eyes, could have very well been Penelope's little sister.
"Just a little. Penny told me that if the first day didn't drag you over a bed of needles backwards, then you weren't of this planet."
"Penny's right. Hi, I'm Ryan Lapitske." She stuck out her hand. The Penelope-Clone smiled, showing a dimple, and shook her hand.
"I'm Fi, Fiona Clearwater." So. Penelope-Clone—Fi—actually was Penelope's sister. How had she managed to miss that during attendance in class? Then again, she had been very absorbed in all that was going on around her, she couldn't remember anybody else's name, either.
"Good to meet you. Are you Muggle-born as well, or did…Penny…just forewarn you?" Fi smiled, revealing the dimple again.
"Muggle. But I don't see the big deal, I mean, there are plenty of pure-bloods who are absolutely dismal at magic. But there's this Gryffindor—Granger, Hermione Granger—who's Muggle-born, but she's absolutely brilliant." Ryan chose simply to nod, still trying to mentally translate. Pure-bloods were obviously wizard-born children. But why were they given the title "pure" and Ryan and the Clearwaters had to put up with "Muggle-born?" It didn't quite make sense to her. And she had never heard of this Granger girl, so she couldn't say if she was brilliant or if she had the brains of a door-knob. But Ryan was beginning to suspect that a student's comings and goings were watched a lot more closely than anyone would admit, even outside of one's own house.
"Does everyone always know what everyone else is doing?" asked Ryan. Fi looked a little unsure.
"Well…I don't really know…I only know what Penny tells me, but all the older students know who Granger is, Granger and Weasley."
"Weasley? You mean Ginny Weasley that we have Herbology with?"
"No, no, her older brother. Or, one of them, at any rate. They're friends with Harry Potter, so almost everyone knows what they get up to."
"Harry Potter, the famous wizard," Ryan mused, "the one who defeated…" she trailed off, unsure of how to continue.
"You-Know-Who," finished Fi promptly. "That's what we call him. People will know what you mean. He's a year older than us, you know."
"What, You-Know-Who?"
"No! Harry Potter! Penny was in her fourth year when he came, and…have you heard what he did last year?"
"No, of course I haven't." Fi looked excited at her chance to be a story-teller.
"Oh! Penny told me all about it. You see, Dumbledore helped create this thing called a Philosopher's Stone, and…" For the next half an hour, they talked, Fi relating the tale of Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, and Ryan asking questions or adding in her own comments. But mostly she just listened. And he was just my age! If he can fight off an evil Dark Lord, I can probably at least pass my classes… Maybe she could do this after all, even if she wasn't a "pure-blood." Neither was Fi, and she seemed to be doing fine. She didn't stick up her nose, like the twit that made fun of Tabby. The idea she had been half-considering about running away and following the train tracks home was put on the shelf temporarily.
It came out again a few days later, when she read a notice in the common room.
"Flying lessons! Brilliant!" said Ben gleefully. Ryan wished she could share in his joy, but instead found herself feeling slightly sick at the prospect of leaving the ground on nothing but a broom. To make it all worse, they would be sharing the lessons with the Hufflepuffs, and she was far from confident that Mel would get out of the lesson alive. She shuddered at the thought of her friend on a broomstick. Fi shared her reluctance, it seemed.
"It sounds awfully dangerous, if you ask me," she said, chewing her lip anxiously. "Of course, people like Cho are just naturals at it, but someone could really get hurt…"
"No one asked you, and that's what the hospital wing is for," snapped Ben. He hadn't taken a shine to Fi the way Ryan had. But Fi didn't like Ben much, either, so it wasn't much of a loss either way.
"You pure-bloods rely too heavily on magic as a crutch," she countered icily, staring down her nose. "When you come from a family of Muggles, like Ryan and myself, you come to appreciate…" She kept talking, but Ben talked right over her.
"You're just jealous, and you know it! It's like an amputee scolding me for using my arm! But…" They talked at each other a few more seconds, voices started to rise, then they turned to her and said, at the same time,
"Right, Ryan?" She moved back a step, hands put up protectively.
"Oh no. This one is strictly between the both of you."
However, she privately agreed with Fi. When flying lessons rolled around, she was positive that she wanted to keep both feet firmly planted on the ground. Being brave is for the Gryffindors, she thought. Ravenclaws are supposed to have better sense. But she dutifully trudged out to the lakeside.
Most of the Hufflepuffs were already there. Mel looked like she wanted to crawl into a hole somewhere, but her friend Robina was a sharp contrast: Eager and stupidly excited. There were two rows of broomsticks. Flying broomsticks. Sad-looking and bent, true, but if they really flew…
The teacher, yellow-eyed Madam Hooch, took charge.
"Come now, everybody, form up! Stand by a broom, go on." They did so. "Now, extend your right hand over the broom and say 'Up!'" This had mixed results. Finnian's broom shot into his hand, but no one else seemed to have the same luck. Ryan's broom rose about two inches, then fell. Robina's broom whacked her in the shins. Mel's rocketed backwards about two yards. One Hufflepuff boy ended up chasing his broom around the assembled students. Ben's flew up…and nailed him a good one upside the head before falling back on the ground. Ryan snickered.
"Be quiet, Ryan," he muttered, rubbing the back of his head. "I'd like to see you do better." Ryan examined her broom once more, and tried to concentrate on the broom floating up to her hand.
"Up!" Nothing. She tried to banish every fear she ever had about heights. "Up!" This worked better; the broom rose up a few inches. She visualized herself on the broom, soaring around in the air. Surprisingly, her stomach didn't turn at the thought this time. "Up!" Third time was the charm, this time; the broom slowly rested securely in her hand. She turned to grin at Ben, but he was conveniently looking the other way, watching Robina massage her aching shins.
When everyone was in position on their brooms, regardless of how they ended up there, they were finally ready. It was only about ten minutes into the lesson, and already Ryan felt like kicking something. The girl who had insulted Tabby, Elise Duffy, was most definitely a pure-blood, and seemed to think that all Muggle-borns genetically lacked the ability to do anything correctly. By contrast, pure-bloods automatically did everything perfectly. So Ryan and Fi should be pitied; they obviously shouldn't have even come to school in the first place.
"Oh, Lapitske, try not to scream," whispered Elise. "It's so embarrassing and pathetic." Ryan gritted her teeth in what she hoped passed for a smile. She would not hit her house-mate.
"Why, thank you for that bit of advice, Elise. I'll try and keep that in mind." Then she gave up. She couldn't fake being polite any longer. "Just be sure you don't scream when you fall on your butt." Elise's insufferably smug smile slipped ever-so-slightly. Ryan felt slightly pleased and pushed her luck a little further. "Oh, by the by, do you think you can lean to the left a touch? I can't see around your ego." The smile dropped like a stone.
"You listen here, you slimy little—" Before she could finish, Madam Hooch blew her whistle, bringing them all to attention.
"Now then. When I sound the whistle again, you will push off gently and hover. When you hear it after that, touch down by leaning forward slightly. Not enough to fall off! One…two…three!" The whistle sounded, high and shrill. Ryan kicked off perhaps a bit too energetically; she rose about a yard off the ground. She felt silly, but she wasn't the only case, or the worst. Finnian was about a foot above her, and Ben was only slightly lower. Elise had successfully gotten off the ground, but bumped back down to earth a few seconds later. Mel was in a tangled heap where she had collided with one person and a domino-effect had ensued, leaving most of Hufflepuff house out for the count. Robina, of course, had escaped all this and was hovering perfectly, a exactly twelve inches in the air.
Ryan giggled with glee. She was actually flying! It wasn't nearly so bad as she had feared it would be. Madam Hooch was paying her victory no mind; instead, she was picking people up off the ground, correcting what they had done wrong (in most cases, it was merely being in Mel's vicinity). But no one had bothered to tell the airborne ones what to do. Experimentally, she leaned forward and nudged it into motion. Like a car starting up on a cold day, it jerked forward a few inches.
"Wow!" said Finnian, and kicked his own into motion. She tilted the broomstick up and moved it again until she was level with him. Ben put a little too much power in, and shot past her, ruffling her robes in the down-draft, trying to maneuver his own broom. Ryan concentrated on her own broom, trying to turn it right and left, stopping, starting—
"Look out!" She wasn't sure who shouted, but a split-second later, something ran into her right side, knocking the wind out of her and, additionally, knocking her off of her broom. For a few seconds, she felt that she was seemingly suspended in mid-air. Then the ground rushed up to meet her. Wham!
For the second time in as many moments, her wind was completely driven from her as something very large landed on top of her. From what she could gather from her hearing that was fading in and out by turns, the class seemed to be having a good chuckle at her expense. I'll never laugh at Ben or that Slytherin girl again, she mentally promised, thinking of the times that she had made fun of other's shortcomings. Madam Hooch came over to haul off whoever had run into her. Someone stuck out a hand to help her up. She accepted, and as soon as she was on her feet, her hand was being heartily shaken.
"My name's Finnian McKey, call me Finn."
"Ryan Laptiske, call me Ryan," she quipped. Finn smiled at that, a big, goofy grin. Madam Hooch dragged Ben up to join them.
"Lovely. I'm sure you all will get to know each other quite well…in detention. I expressly told you not to move!" Ryan slumped her shoulders. Well, she had wasted no time in getting into trouble, had she? "Now, can we please continue, with no more accidents?"