A/N: My second installment of snapshots in Hooch's life, as I try to capture her character in both humorous (I hope) and dramatic moments. Please leave a review and tell me your thoughts about this. Thanks!

Disclaimer: Please refer to the first chapter.

7.

"Hooch? What kind of name is that?"

In her first week at Hogwarts, Rolanda Hooch had gotten used to being disconcerted. Right now she wished she had a biting retort ready, but she always thought of those sarcastic witty comebacks lying awake at night.

So instead she turned around calmly and confronted the voice that had mocked her name, and found her eyes staring at a pair of broad shoulders in profile. She craned her neck backwards and sideways. An equally broad face, bright with good humour, grinned down at her. Reassured by the grin, Rolanda decided she might like this big girl and replied with an edge in her voice, "It's my name."

The giantess roared in laughter and slapped her hard on the back. Rolanda choked on her mouthful of pumpkin juice.

"Good answer! Good!" And she laughed again.

Rolanda, wondering whether all Gryffindors were this strange, plucked up more of her nerves and asked, "What's your name?"

"Gwendolyn Morgan," the big girl said, her brown eyes daring her. Ro accepted the challenge.

"Gwendolyn? What kind of name is that for you?"

Gwendolyn Morgan shouted again with laughter. The other students at the table didn't bat an eyelash. They were used to her noise. Later Ro would discover Morgan could and would laugh easily at anything except Quidditch. For Gwendolyn Morgan Quidditch was serious business.

8.

Where am I?

Her foot hesitated on the staircase as she realized she had no idea where she was; she did not even know what floor of Hogwarts she climbing up to. She bit her lip and looked around, surveying the empty landing. Why couldn't they hand out maps or something? Her memory wasn't worth nuts, this was the thousandth time she had gotten lost, there were no nearly headless knights to help her this time, she was going to be late for Charms again—

Then she caught herself. It wasn't like her to be this panicky. She was late anyway. She wasn't going to get into any more trouble. She could not, she asserted, daring the fates. Forcing a grin, she took a step up.

And her right foot fell through air and the vanishing step and she dropped, her right leg wedged painfully between two stone steps.

9.

The school doctor got her fixed up quickly with movements and incantations that seemed too well practiced.

"Don't be so embarrassed. You weren't the first, nor will you be the last," She was told briskly. Her throat was hoarse from yelling and her bruised leg still ached.

"Why can't they get rid of those steps?" she asked plaintively. She knew she was whining but she couldn't bring herself to care.

He only shook his head with a slight smile and said, "Water?" She accepted proffered glass resignedly. Only the second week and she had already been sent to the infirmary.

10.

Transfiguration!

"Ah," Rolanda grabbed fistfuls of her hair in overdramatic frustration. She was too tired to even draw out her groan. Other students glanced amusedly at her and she smiled crookedly back and tried again. And again...until the common room emptied and the hands on the clock tiptoed steadily towards midnight.

"Help me?" she finally asked a short redheaded boy. He shook his head and shrugged with an I'm-as-bad-as-you-are expression. Before she could protest he had disappeared.

The match stayed a match despite her efforts. She itched to light it on fire instead.

11.

Flying lessons!

As if she needed them. On the signal Ro leapt on the Cleansweep Two and the broom jumped eagerly into the sky. Merlin's beard, she'd missed this. Flying. Even if the Cleansweep was wobbly and drove splinters into her palm. Fine, she missed her old but beloved Silver Arrow as well. She didn't even care when the instructor called her down for flying too high.

There was only one problem, now that Ro had rediscovered her love. Why, oh why couldn't first years join the Quidditch team?

She'll figure out a way.

12.

The redheaded boy waved his wand and muttered. The match turned willingly into a shiny thin twig-like object with a sharp point. There was no denying that it was a fine needle. It seemed to mock her as Rolanda stared in astonishment.

"So why didn't you help me yesterday?" she demanded.

The boy shrugged.

"Stop doing that. It's infuriating when you pretend to be modest," she retorted to his silence. "How come you hide it all the time? You're good at Transfiguration!"

Now the boy blushed as red as his hair and mumbled, "WellyouknowIdon'twanttoshowoffandum…"

Rolanda waited for a translation. The boy cleared his throat.

"Well, um, I don't, you know, want to show off and…um, yes," he said awkwardly, many awkward moments later. He moved his hands in small circles as he talked, and even his ears grew red as he talked.

"That's not showing off. It's showing that you're good."

"And I don't pretend to be modest," he added, surprisingly fiercely. "I don't."

"Okay," Rolanda said, backing off with new respect for him. He did have some backbone after all. They surveyed each other intently. Finally she said, uncomfortably, "What's your name? I mean…maybe I should say first. I'm Ro—"

"You're Rolanda Hooch. I know. Everybody knows," he interrupted, grinning a little and continued, "I'm Basil Weasley."