6.5 - A Special Kind of Flyer
The brisk Scottish air intermingled with the warm updraft that was radiating from the field below. It produced a maelstrom of varying tendrils that caressed Natalie McDonald's skin. She was slightly disappointed that some of the sensation was robbed, even by the somewhat sheer robes she was wearing now. At home, she would often fly in something far more scandalous, but here she had to behave. She idly gyrated in the updraft from the pitch, and the warm air rising past her lifted and swirled her long hair around her. Through trial and error, she had pinpointed a spot just back from mid-pitch as the focal point for the warm currents. Around her, her robes fluttered lightly.
When she closed her eyes, she could see intricate designs on the insides of her eyelids. They swirled and danced to the rhythm that her heartbeat created. The patterns ebbed and flowed smoothly. Under her hands, the Arrow's handle thrummed slowly. She had only brought it out at Hogwarts once or twice before. The majority of the time it sat politely in her single most valuable possession, a broom locker that could hold five brooms and still be a convenient size to strap to the top of her school chest. The Arrow was a temperamental beast; but it hadn't surprised her in a while. Back when she had finished the last of the really big jobs, it had taken her for a proper ride, now and again. Once she found herself over Saskatchewan, dangling from one knee with her hair nearly dragging on the rooftops, and wearing (or not wearing, such as it was) nearly enough to make a proper hand towel.
As she gently drifted in a semi-circle, she picked out the various witches and wizards. She knew a few of them, even though she wasn't exceptionally outgoing. Harry Potter, of course. Everyone knew him. He was staring at something she couldn't see with an expression she also couldn't see. Next to him, Ginny's brother Ron was kicking at something on the ground. She hadn't talked to Ron hardly ever, but Ginny was nice enough. She said hi now and again.
Down by the lake, Owen Cauldwell was chatting up Laura something...Natalie just couldn't remember her name off the tip of her tongue. Owen had done his best to chat Natalie up as well, and there was even some genuine chemistry, but she liked her men a little more fearless. She considered Owen squarely within the realm of possible, but not likely.
"You look a bit lonely up here."
Malcolm Baddock wasn't a totally bad sport either, as far as Slytherin house went. Of course, that was a bit like saying he wasn't as painful as most needle-sticks. It was still a needle-stick.
"I'm not," she replied, without opening her eyes.
"Lonely?"
"Not a bit."
"Mmm. Well I think I could change your mind."
Natalie studied Malcolm. "If you can catch me, I'll consider changing my mind."
Malcolm smiled. "Promise?"
Natalie leaned into the Arrow, which responded obediently. She wasn't going to open it up any where near all the way. She wouldn't need to. Malcolm was on a Comet.
She started with elementary flying, taking the Arrow nearly straight up the Ravenclaw tower. She purposefully kept it low, though. She didn't want to totally crush Malcolm...that would be mean. Just as important, she didn't want to shatter the tower windows, which she thought she may have been able to manage had she really unwound.
She overshot the tower and leaned back, letting the broom pitch all the way into a back roll and then dive bombed down the other side. For all its strengths, the Arrow did not corner like a modern broom. If it was still moving forward, and the handling was a matter of attitude adjustment, she could handle it like a modern broom. If it was in a full-on deadfall, the smart girl had to give the Arrow time to pull out of the dive. Natalie was a smart girl, and she flew smart.
Also, there was the slim chance that Malcolm and his Comet might implant themselves into the ground. That wouldn't do.
She nosed up and slid around the owelry in a wide arc, letting the broom spin and when she was facing Malcolm, who was still managing to keep up with her, goosed the Arrow. She rumbled over Malcolm's head close enough to hear him gasp, and then let the Arrow free a bit more. She was now approaching what she reckoned to be the Comet's top speed, so she leveled off. She let the broom drift downward and swooped under the bridge. She wrapped around the pillars with a deceptively slinky speed. She had the arrow tuned to accelerate at a rate many reasonable fliers would consider somewhat suicidal, so even though the Comet would almost certainly be able to corner at almost the same velocity, the Arrow could slide through lateral turns and reach a truly hair-raising speed just an instant later. The Comet's cornering speed was very likely its top speed.
Occasionally, she would catch a glimpse of Malcolm, but when she started lacing through the trees and columns he started to lose her, or just as likely, his nerve. She even lapped him several times, and once let the flap of her robe slap him in the face. She eventually shot the Arrow over the lake, where the broom was the most impressive. The cushioning charm, which started further up on the Arrow than on most brooms so as to keep wind buffeting down, interacted with the high velocity and proximity to the lake to create a parabolic arc of spray, which coalesced into a rainbow in her wake. Once she was near the middle of the lake, she leaned back, let the broom do what it did, and rocketed into the sky. She still had something in the piggy bank, but no Comet was ever going to catch her; ever.
"Next time, McDonald!" Malcolm's voice drifted to her from what seemed to be very far away. Natalie waggled the broom and waved delicately. She drifted in a slow spiral to her spot over the pitch. She continued to drift in a lazy circle, dreamily picking out faces she knew and letting the Arrow point her where it would.
Back home, the endless fields of wheat rippled with a rustling sigh and a girl could fly for a whole day hearing nothing but her own thoughts. Here above Hogwarts, such was sadly not the case. It was still peaceful enough, if a girl could shake the punters. And Natalie could always shake the punters.
It was going to take a special kind of flyer to catch her.