I fly something old on Quidditch Pitch

Professor Olivers

January 07, 2015 10:00 PM

Flying Lessons by Professor Olivers

With her clipboard in hand, Florence watched as her younger students filed onto the Quidditch pitch. For some, this might be their first flying lesson ever; for others, it would be a nice way to practice before Quidditch tryouts. Florence hoped that the first-years would decide to join the sport and revive the teams in Crotalus and Teppenpaw particularly. It would be nice to have four houses competing for the Quidditch Cup again instead of just two. The class was geared towards first-years, but any second-years who hadn’t mastered flying with at least an E their first year were welcome. Flying was usually a pretty easy class, so she didn’t expect many of the second-years to join in.

As Florence waited patiently, watching as the second-hand on her watch tick a minute past the designated time, she wondered when she had become more lenient with the first-years. She was a retired actress a couple years past fifty with no children, a deceased husband, and a boyfriend in Chicago. Her life had taken an odd turn once she had decided to teach at Sonora, but it had been a turn for the better. She still liked those punctual students much better and the seventh-years no doubt knew her as a strict professor, but at least for these flying lessons she didn’t have the heart to lock the first-years out of the Quidditch pitch. It was a big change from the stickler she’d been before.

She had come in as a Charms professor, but Florence had grown comfortable on the grassy pitch. It was a nice day for flying: warm and slightly cloudy. It almost made her want to get on a broom and fly around herself. After a couple of minutes passed, she cleared her throat and smiled at her students. “Over here, everyone,” she said, directing them over to the pile of school brooms. If they had a broom from home, they were allowed to use them during Quidditch matches, but for this flying lesson she wanted everyone to use a school broom.

“Good morning. Welcome to Flying Lessons. I am Professor Olivers, but you can call me Coach Olivers if you prefer. I am the Charms professor here at Sonora, but I am also the current stand-in Quidditch coach. Flying lessons are required for all first-years, but for those who already know how to fly there are other options. However, for this class period all students must be on a broom. Every lesson will begin with roll call and then the more experienced flyers can break off to either play informal scrimmages, toss a Quaffle around, or fly laps around the pitch. As long as you do not disturb the lesson or hurt yourselves or each other, you are free to do what you like within reason. I will not bring out a Snitch or the Bludgers, so don’t ask.

“Before I let you go, I’m going to take roll first. Please answer when I call your name.” She made her way through the list briskly before letting the experienced flyers go to the other end of the pitch with a school broom. They had to be close enough for Florence to keep an eye on them, but far enough that they wouldn’t disturb the beginners. Once the group had split, Florence turned her attention to the new flyers.

“Everyone, please grab a broom to begin with and put it down on the ground next to you.” She waited until the students each had a broom and directed them to put it on the side of their dominant hand. “Now, hold your wand hand out—that’s your dominant hand—and say, Up!” The broom she had by her side leaped into her hand. “The trick is to be firm when commanding your broom. Don’t be shy; be confident.” Confidence was the key to acting, her former occupation and passion. She had been a stage actress for twenty-three years, and some of what she had learned during that time bled into her teaching strategy. “Once your broom is in your hand, mount it either astride or side-saddle. Let me know if you want to ride side-saddle and I will adjust your brooms. Then simply kick off—not too hard—and let the broom take you a couple feet off the ground and no higher.”

OOC:
Welcome to Flying! By posting in this class, you will earn points for your house. There is a minimum of 200 words per post or three paragraphs, but the longer and more creative a post is, the more points you will receive. Points are awarded for how well you write, not how well your character does in a lesson. Keep your posts realistic, relevant to the lesson as much as possible, and creative!

If you have any questions, tag Professor Olivers on the OOC board or check the FAQ.

Florence will be present and will stop any situation before it gets out of hand. Make sure you don’t write for other characters without their permission. However, if your character wants to ride side-saddle, you can safely assume Prof. Olivers adjusted their brooms. Otherwise, have fun with your posts!

Subthreads:

No lesson necessary. by John Spencer with Barnaby Pye

Learning to fly! by Anna Clarissa Cooper-Flemming with Lauren Song, Teppenpaw, Anna Clarissa

Neither one thing nor the other by Jemima Wolseithcrafte, Teppenpaw with Owen Brockert, Teppenpaw

I fly something old by Ginger Pierce, Teppenpaw with Sutton Nicolls, Pecari

Never again. by Aislinn Nicolls, Aladren

0 Professor Olivers Flying Lessons 0 Professor Olivers 1 5

John Spencer

January 08, 2015 2:36 PM

No lesson necessary. by John Spencer

Since his older brother had left England to attend Sonora however many years ago, Jack had been waiting for the day he would officially begin school in America along with him. His older sister had gone the year after, and now Jack was here several years later for his first year. It was still slightly unbelievable. When he’d woken up the first morning in a foreign bed, he had gone through a mixture of confusion, delight and excitement. It didn’t mean that he didn’t miss home. He was beyond overjoyed that his house-mate and room-mate was from England as well. He hoped to get to know him better over the course of their schooling, but for now he looked forward to Flying Lessons.

Adam had told him that Flying class was really just a time for the experienced flyers to play. An hour or so on a broom tossing a Quaffle around sounded like an ideal class, though Jack was also looking forward to learning how to use his new wand. He was disappointed to learn he couldn’t use his own broom during the lesson, however, but any old broom would be fine. Mother never let him fly on his own back home, but Jack had disobeyed her often enough that he felt comfortable in the air.

Dressed in his impeccable school robes and his book bag over one shoulder, Jack made his way to the Quidditch pitch, excited to see where he’d be playing with his team in the near future. He hadn’t yet signed up for the Aladren Quidditch team, but there was nothing that could stop him from doing so. Jack enjoyed learning and reading quite a bit, but he could safely say he equally enjoyed playing Quidditch. At least, he’d really enjoyed watching Quidditch since he’d never been quite old enough to play until now.

The pitch smelled like grass and the clouds were keeping the sun from blinding him. It was an absolute lovely day, the perfect weather for flying. The pitch was enormous and the hoops seemed to stand thousands of meters tall. He could hardly wait to get on a broom, but first Professor Olivers had her speech to make. She sounded like a stage actress, but Jack didn’t really keep up with the theatre scene, especially the American one. For all he knew, she’d been a Charms professor her entire life. If she was the Quidditch coach, the Charms professor and taught Flying Lessons, he would be seeing an awful lot of her this year. Best to get on her good side. He waited somewhat impatiently for the fun to begin, but roll call came next. As a Spencer, his name usually came towards the end, and he answered, “Present,” when she finally called him.

At last, Professor, or Coach, Olivers dismissed the experienced flyers and Jack snatched a broom before striding off towards the opposite end of the pitch. After a few steps, he mounted his broom and flew the rest of the way there, revelling in the breeze pushing his hair back, and he took a deep breath of the desert air. It was much drier than back home, Arizona, but he didn’t mind it too much. It was different and that’s all that mattered. Jack made a half-circle on his broom and went to pinch a Quaffle from the few Professor Olivers had left out. He tossed the leather ball in one hand as he held his broomstick with the other and called out to one of the other experienced flyers. “Care to scrimmage?” he asked politely, finding a thrill in being able to say that without his anxious mother breathing down his neck.

40 John Spencer No lesson necessary. 299 John Spencer 0 5

Anna Clarissa Cooper-Flemming

January 09, 2015 9:26 AM

Learning to fly! by Anna Clarissa Cooper-Flemming

Anna Clarissa was wearing her school robes like she'd been told to (which was weird because it made her feel like some private school kid - which she kind of was, she supposed) and had gotten to flying lessons five minutes before on time, which was long enough to get a good feel for their professor. She seemed pretty nice and she was holding a clipboard, which was pretty par for the course in terms of P.E. teachers that Anna Clarissa had. In elementary school one time she'd won their end of the year push-up contest and gotten a squishy stuffed fish as a prize, but in general P.E. was one of those classes that Anna Clarissa didn't have many feelings about. She got to run around which was fun but sometimes they did boring fitness tests and not anything else.

However, since she was now in magical school, the curly haired Pecari had high hopes for P.E., if only because it meant she was going to learn to fly a broom. Anna Clarissa had learned how witches got warts (toads, so she knew to avoid them) and about the different options for familiars (toads were also on there) and how to buy a wand (it was a lot like trying on sneakers) and now she was going to learn another important witch skill: flying. She was pretty pumped.

"Here!" she piped up, when Coach Olivers called her name.

The kids who already knew how to fly went off to do their own thing and Anna Clarissa nodded. She hadn't been here for very long yet, but it was already pretty clear that there was some sort of divide between the kids who'd grown up magic and the kids who hadn't, at least among the first years. She was hoping that once they all started learning magic things would even out.

Then it was time for Anna Clarissa herself to learn how to fly. She picked up a broom when the Coach told her too (the handle was dark and a little bit warped on one end but otherwise it seemed like, well, an old-fashioned broom). Then, she put it on the ground next to her above her left hand.

"Up," she commanded. The broom rolled over in the grass but didn't up. Anna Clarissa frowned. "UP," she directed, more forcefully. The broom didn't even move that time and the hazel-eyed girl determined that yelling wasn't going to get her anywhere. She thought for a second and tried a different tactic. "Up." Anna Clarissa said again, this time in the tone of voice that she would use to order the family's dog off the couch (but only if mom was watching; clandestine couch-cuddling with the dog was pretty okay in Anna Clarissa's book).

It worked! The broom shot up into her hand and the Pecari grinned, then slid her left leg over the handle and kicked off, adjusting things until she was about four feet off the ground.

"Hey wow nifty!" she exclaimed, looking around.

0 Anna Clarissa Cooper-Flemming Learning to fly! 0 Anna Clarissa Cooper-Flemming 0 5

Jemima Wolseithcrafte, Teppenpaw

January 10, 2015 12:39 AM

Neither one thing nor the other by Jemima Wolseithcrafte, Teppenpaw

Jemima did not feel a great deal towards flying classes. Flying was something she knew how to do, so she supposed it was nice to have a class where she could say that. It wasn’t something she took a great deal of interest in though. She did it relatively frequently because Ingrid, her closest sister in age, was obsessed, and wouldn’t be happy until Jemima gave in and played with her. She was rather looking forward to the break in that she’d get from being at school. She loved Ingrid dearly but was much happier when she could persuade her to do something else, like accompany her for a walk.

She made her way down to the pitch, the notice she’d seen in the Teppenpaw Common Room on her mind. She wondered whether her surname had been noted with hope. Wolseithcraftes played Quidditch. She felt mean for thinking it but she was almost glad Teppenpaw didn’t have a team. She had heard of people being pressured into joining if there was just one more space to fill, and she was sure she would have been a target for that sort of thing. But with no spaces filled, she thought they might just be left alone. Free to sign up if they were really interested but no one was going to bother press ganging seven people into being on a team they didn’t really want to be part of.

She listened attentively to Coach Olivers, even though her older brother and sister had told her what to expect, and indeed the Coach said it almost verbatim. She took a school broom, calling it up with ease. She mounted it the standard way. Mother said that anyone who assumed that to be dirty must have a filthy mind. Jemima didn’t quite know what she meant by that, as she couldn’t imagine what anyone might imagine this looked like other than riding a broom, but she knew it meant she was meant to ride this way and not mind what anyone else said. She and Ingrid had tried to find out more by sneaking away a pamphlet entitled ‘The Dangers of Side-Saddle’ which mother had said they were too young to read but it turned out to be descriptions of horrible injuries and how much more likely they were to befall you from not riding properly, even at low altitudes. Whilst Ingrid had found it fascinating, it had been almost enough to put Jemima off flying any which way round, but most definitely from perching precariously at right angles to her broom.

She scooted a little way from the novice fliers, so as not to be a bother, but did not pursue the groups that were heading eagerly for balls and goals. She flew gently back and forth a little, more drifting than really flying. After a little bit, she noticed someone else near her. She wasn’t sure if it was a new flier who had got off to a good start, or someone who, like herself, was more experienced but not really into sports. She was sure there had to be some. More or less every magical child grew up learning to fly but not everyone loved Quidditch.

“Hello there,” she called out, “Just looking to drift around too?” she added hopefully.

13 Jemima Wolseithcrafte, Teppenpaw Neither one thing nor the other 304 Jemima Wolseithcrafte, Teppenpaw 0 5

Barnaby Pye

January 10, 2015 3:40 AM

I should hope not. by Barnaby Pye

Barnaby wasn’t sure if he was looking forward to flying lessons. Though he was required to attend Quidditch matches with his father and though his brother had taught him how to fly along with the basics of the game, it wasn’t something that was high on his priorities. But flying and Quidditch had always been Alfie’s thing and Barnaby was meant to be breaking through Alfie’s standard and become the superior of the Pye sibling, so in order to do this, he would be required to participate in the activity and probably enjoy it as well and so he paid Professor Skies the utmost attention whilst she began the lessons. She was an odd sort of teacher and certainly more outspokenly dressed than any of the other professors seemed to be, but Barnaby wasn’t there to dig up things on Skies and so he noted the odd dress and continued on with his life. He had never been one to dwell too long on unnecessary details, instead committing to memory or paper scraps bits that he thought were important or would resurface later.

After Skies dismissed them, he joined the rest of the experienced fliers at the other end of the pitch as he knew he didn’t want to hang around while the rest of the class learned how to command a broom properly. As he flew, he thought about his different choices for friends. He’d had a day and a half to observe his other classmates but still hadn’t enough time to figure out who amongst his classmates might measure up to Tarquin. Barnaby frowned, thinking of his freckled mate who more likely than not would be staying in the United Kingdom to attend Hogwarts. A familiar voice roused him from his thoughts and for a fleeting second Barnaby thought it was Tarquin. However, no sooner did that thought enter he frowned, scolding himself for even coming up with such a ridiculous notion.

Barnaby tilted his head slightly, appraising his roommate before deciding that joining the Aladren Quidditch team and preforming well in Flying Lessons, however, were two entirely different things. “Sounds fun,” he said with a large smile. It didn’t matter if he didn’t like to play Quidditch that much—he knew how and Spencer was to be his roommate for the next seven years so it was crucial to be on his good side and show interest in the things he liked. He was already starting off kind of slowly. Barnaby had already risen early the two days they had been there so as to go over his books before having a quiet, solitary breakfast the moment Cascade Hall opened and leaving to the Labyrinth Gardens in order to have some quiet time to think—he had found that he liked to have mornings to himself to clear his head and prepare his brain for the day. However, companionship was something that everyone needed and Barnaby had found that having Tarquin by his side while they went through their solitary motions was nice as it gave him the opportunity to bounce ideas around such as what it was their fathers actually did.

“I’ve not much experience though,” he said as he got into a better position to scrimmage. “I only ever played with my brother, so consider yourself warned and prepare for some truly awful playing.” Though he was clearly joking, Barnaby also felt that it was partially the truth. Unlike other children his age who had grown up enjoying Quidditch, it had always been something of an obligation for Barnaby. While he enjoyed the occasional fly, he lacked the passion to play so his skills were caught between that and the desire to never do anything halfway.

10 Barnaby Pye I should hope not. 298 Barnaby Pye 0 5

Barnaby

January 10, 2015 4:38 AM

*OOC Correction by Barnaby

Definitely wrote Skies instead of Olivers... Not really sure why. My apologies!

10 Barnaby *OOC Correction 298 Barnaby 0 5

Owen Brockert, Teppenpaw

January 10, 2015 6:39 AM

Which two things are you not? by Owen Brockert, Teppenpaw

There were two classes Owen was a little nervous about at Sonora and one was Flying. His Healer had indeed cleared him for it, so he didn't have to sit out which would have been embarrassing. His mother had, though, strongly discouraged him from doing too much of it since his asthma was primarily aggravated by exercise. Quidditch, even if he'd been inclined towards it in the first place, was completely out of the question.

Still, flying had to be better than walking, Owen reasoned, trying to think positively. After all, he was riding something whereas too much walking left him a little winded. Yet, the Teppenpaw didn't have much enthusiasm for the class in general really, being that it...made him remember that he had asthma in the first place. Owen really disliked being sick, it held him back from doing things, either because he honestly didn't feel well or because his mother wouldn't let him.

Flying itself he was rather indifferent to. He'd found things he was way more interested in anyway such as writing. The first year liked nothing better than tucking himself away, scratching down ideas for hours, stories pouring out of him without stopping. Owen had written more than one short story in one sitting. Granted, now that he was at school, he'd really had yet to sit down and concentrate but ideas were still flowing through him. All his life he'd had a fantastic imagination, only now he wrote things out rather than acting them out like he had when he was little, when he'd designed rather elaborate games with his toys. Owen had nothing against people who did like flying and Quidditch, but it didn't necessarily stimulate his imagination too much anyway, and thus he'd really been mostly okay living without it. There were other things though, like looking around the attic or going to a museum or even having a pet that he'd been prevented from doing. And the thing was, Owen could have had a pet, animal dander didn't bother him at all, unless perhaps there was a lot of it, like being around three hundred cats or something.

He stood with his classmates, listening to Professor Olivers' instructions. Well, none of it sounded too bad, though the Teppenpaw wasn't that confident about flying having not even been on a broom in quite some time. It took him a few tries to get his broom up but he managed to mount it and take off albeit a bit wobbly at first. Owen drifted off before anyone could ask him to join in the form of Quidditch they were allowed to play. He didn't want to reject anyone for fear they'd be hurt or think he was stuck up or that he'd be left out of things later. Yet, Owen didn't want to explain why he couldn't play either.

“Hello there. Just looking to drift around too?”

He looked to see one of the girls he recognized as one of the other new Teppenpaws. "Yes." Owen replied. "I'm Owen Brockert, of the Western Brockerts." He introduced himself. "Excuse me for not bowing, it's hard to do when in flight." He was lacking in experience on a broom enough that there was no way to be successful in doing such.

11 Owen Brockert, Teppenpaw Which two things are you not? 300 Owen Brockert, Teppenpaw 0 5

Jemima

January 11, 2015 2:13 AM

Neither a flyer nor a non-flyer by Jemima

The boy was one of the new Teppenpaws. She recognised him from the feast and… around, though she hadn’t had a chance to talk to him yet. She was glad of the chance to rectify this now, even though the fact they were both just looking to idle away the time was not promising for their house’s Quidditch fortunes…

“Pleased to meet you,” she smiled, “I’m Jemima Wolseithcrafte of Chicago. And that’s ok - I think there’s some situations where it’s just assumed to be ok not to,” she added about the bowing. Though if he was apologising, perhaps she had that wrong. “Though I extend the same for not curtseying,” she added, just to be safe. She didn’t want to mess up as soon as she found herself in a conversation with someone from her own social class. The Brockerts were another family whose multiplebranches she had double checked after her mistake with the Pierces but they all seemed to be reputable, so she felt that she ought to try to make a good impression.

“It’s nice to meet someone proper,” she observed, with a smile. She really liked her room-mates and she was sure mother didn’t mind her trying to get on with the people around her - in fact, she had encouraged this as good common sense - but it was always going to be a little bit complicated. Double checking her manners aside, she was much more in her comfort zone talking to Owen, who was the sort of friend she was supposed to make. As another plus, he already seemed to share her non-love of flying.

“So, what do you like doing?” she asked. “Seeing as you don’t seem likely to fill your time with Quidditch.”

13 Jemima Neither a flyer nor a non-flyer 304 Jemima 0 5

Jack, Aladren

January 12, 2015 2:38 PM

Why is that? by Jack, Aladren

Though Jack wanted to pursue a friendship with his room-mate and fellow Brit, he was a bit discouraged by Barnaby's aloof lifestyle. So far Jack hadn't had a very positive experience with his house-mates, and he wondered if all Aladrens were expected to be solitary, unsociable creatures. If that were the case, then he was slightly offended to be thought of as such. He hoped to catch a classmate in Flying Class to pursue friendships outside of his house. It didn't seem as though his house-mates were going to prove to be interesting companions as far as he could see.

When Jack posed the invitation to play, he was preparing himself to be rejected. Perhaps Aladrens enjoyed solitude more than conversation and Jack didn't know how not to converse whilst on the pitch. The professionals talked all the time. However, his room-mate agreed to play, smiling in a way that made Jack slightly suspicious. He didn't have to feel the need to over-compensate, but he allowed it to slide along with Barnaby's next comment. They were all first-years; Jack wasn't expecting to play with a renowned Quidditch player. Though perhaps his cousin Rupert had been rather advanced in Quidditch for his age, if Adam and his mother were to be believed.

"That's all right," said Jack, tossing the Quaffle to Barnaby. "I've only practised throwing at makeshift hoops back home. Are you thinking of joining the Quidditch team? I think it would be loads of fun." After Barnaby stated his thoughts on joining, Jack decided to begin their scrimmage. "You can start off; I'll guard first."

With that Jack nodded at him and soared forward towards the hoops away from the beginner class. He was a bit unsteady on the school broom, but he didn't doubt he would get used to it soon. He would wait for Barnaby to fly over before attempting to block his shot. Jack would make a rubbish Keeper, but he wasn't interested in that position anyway. He wanted to be either a Beater or a Chaser, someone who was actually in on the action.

40 Jack, Aladren Why is that? 299 Jack, Aladren 0 5

Ginger Pierce, Teppenpaw

January 13, 2015 10:27 AM

I fly something old by Ginger Pierce, Teppenpaw

Ginger arrived at the pitch a bit early for her first flying class. She had allowed time for getting lost but hadn't needed it. Saul had found one of his old map drawings of the school for her, from back when he called himself Saul the Guide and handed them out to new Pecaris. Despite the years since he graduated, it still seemed to be mostly accurate. Plus, well, the Pitch was kind of hard to miss anyway.

While she waited for the teacher to begin, she chatted casually with her classmates, then she fell quiet as Olivers checked her watch and started talking. Ginger shifted from one foot to the other, physically unable to stand still, but attentive. She was pleased to hear that she would be free to fly freely rather than being stuck ground-side with the kids just learning, but was not at all disappointed by the restriction from bludgers and snitches. Quiddtch was something she knew about, but it wasn't something she obsessed over or anything. Her family only even owned a handful of brooms and most of them were at least as old as she was.

"Here!" she called out when Professor Olivers got to 'Pierce, Ginger,' making sure to wave her hand back and forth in case the lady was looking for a red-head. Ginger's hair was very definitely black, which a number of people found counter-intuitive to matching her with her first name. She did look like a Pierce, though, far more than many of the Californians did, so if the lady was familiar with any of her Eastern relatives, she might be identified that way. She had the same dark hair, blue eyes, and pale skin coloring that the Eastern Branches all shared. Well, she would have been pale skinned if she'd spent as much time indoors as they did. Right now though, coming off a sunny California summer, she was quite nicely tanned.

When the role call was finished, she collected a school broom, noting with interest that it was the same make as her cousin Jose's broom that she'd learned to fly on. Old it might be, but comfortable and familiar, which were two quality that could not be underestimated in a broom. She mounted and kicked off with ease, and decided she'd began with a couple easy laps of the pitch, just to get into the swing of flying again. As they had been pretty well surrounded by muggles for most of the summer, it had been a few months since she'd last flown on one.

Seeing another student not far off, she waved grandly, hoping to entice the other first year to join her. Laps were much more fun with somebody else to fly them with.

1 Ginger Pierce, Teppenpaw I fly something old 302 Ginger Pierce, Teppenpaw 0 5

Owen

January 15, 2015 1:44 PM

Yeah, me either, I suppose. by Owen

Owen realized a little bit late that this girl wasn't someone he necessarily had to bow to in the first place. He'd noted that many of the girls had unfamiliar names, but that could also have meant they were foreign as the first year didn't know those well. Even Alessa, for whom genealogy was a hobby, didn't know them by heart the way she did American families. He was pretty convinced his second cousin could recite the families she was related to in her sleep. If he bowed to a Muggleborn though, he'd likely never hear the end of it. Plus, they wouldn't understand pureblood customs and would laugh at him. Then again, a Muggleborn wouldn't know how to fly. She could have been halfblood or from a family not part of society though.

Fortunately, she quickly introduced herself as Jemima Wolseithcrafte and Owen relaxed slightly. She was someone he would have bowed to, so his apology was not a mistake as it turned out. Especially given that she wasn't offended, he thought some proper girls might have been and Owen really didn't want to offend anyone. Period. He didn't want enemies, didn't want to be disliked by others. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Wolseithcrafte." He replied. "You can call me Owen, this school is full of Brockerts." Granted, as Uncle Mortimer had the title of Headmaster, he supposed that Duncan would be the only other Mr. Brockert, unless there were more that weren't on the wagon with him. The other male cousin he'd met was Tristan, who was a Spaulding.

He was glad that Jemima wasn't bothered by his lack of bowing. Conversely, he didn't mind her lack of curtseying. Owen knew that it was good manners to do so, but there were just situations where it seemed...rather awkward and between his minimal experience on a broom and his minimal experience with socializing, he didn't need things to become more so. Nor did he want to do anything like fall and hurt himself. Or have Jemima hurt herself.

Apparently though, he was proper enough in her eyes and he felt a bit relieved. "Agreed." Any training he'd had in etiquette was in dealing with others in his social circle. Tobi hadn't been, which had been sort of a good thing, given how nervous Owen had been at the feast and the fact that sitting was another one of those situations where it was awkward to bow. Still, he didn't really know how to handle non-purebloods. He'd be nice to everyone, he didn't think he had it in him to be truly mean, but there were just...different rules from what he understood.

"I love writing!" Owen replied, his face lighting up, as it always did when he talked about his favorite hobby. "What about you?" He asked.

11 Owen Yeah, me either, I suppose. 300 Owen 0 5

Jemima

January 17, 2015 4:26 AM

So, what are we instead? by Jemima

“Thanks,” she smiled, “You can call me Jemima. I mean, there’s only two other Wolseithcraftes but it’s…. friendlier.” He had allowed her first name privilege and she was sure it was written down somewhere about reciprocating and treating people equally (so long as they were your equals) but mostly she did it because it just seemed like the nice thing to do, and she couldn’t go around calling him Owen and having him call her Miss Wolseithcrafte because that would just be strange. “It’s shorter too. Just about,” she joked. Ingrid had tried several times unsuccessfully to shorten her name but nothing she could come up with worked or sounded nice, and Jemima tended to ignore her until she dropped them, so it didn’t really save time in the long run.

“I like art,” she smiled, “Mostly painting but I like making things too. My room-mates and I are going to decorate our dormitory,” she explained, “What sort of things do you write about?” she asked, pleased that she had found someone else who had a hobby that wasn’t sport or reading complicated textbooks for pleasure. She supposed trying new foods was also on her list of interests, and she’d had a chance to share that with Lauren and Ginger at the Opening Feast. All in all, Teppenpaw was proving a good place to meet people who liked to do the things that she liked, and she was starting to feel pleased to have been put there, even if it wasn’t quite as smart and admirable as being an Aladren. It suited her. And, whilst she could be downcast that somewhere not smart or admirable was what suited her, at the moment she was enjoying being around people who seemed to understand her.

She drifted a little as she chatted to Owen, because it was much easier to keep one’s balance on a moving broom than on a static one. In spite of her initial luke-warmness, she thought she could grow to quite like this class… Just drifting along, making conversation with someone nice… It wasn’t a bad way to spend an hour and get credit for it.

13 Jemima So, what are we instead? 304 Jemima 0 5

Sutton Nicolls, Pecari

January 18, 2015 7:29 PM

I fly on a board by Sutton Nicolls, Pecari

Flying lessons was something that Sutton was looking forward to, because she assumed there would be no homework, quizzes, or tests. It wasn’t that she was unintelligent, because she wasn’t. She was actually fairly smart. Maybe not Aladren smart, but she could certainly do better than average grades. However, she didn’t apply herself. It was something that her grade school teachers had said at every parent/teacher conference. Her only concern was passing so that she could play sports, especially hockey.

One of her favorite things in hockey was the way the wind whipped across her face as she flew across the ice. And in skateboarding, there were air tricks. It was amazing flying through the air if only for a moment. But now, in flying, she had the chance to be up in the air continuously. That was another reason that she was looking forward to this class. So much so, that she had arrived slightly early to the class. Normally, she made it to a class right on time, sometimes late, and almost never early. But she had made an exception.

Shifting from foot to foot, not really knowing what else to do with herself, she waited for class to begin. Once it did, she got excited for a minute until the professor announced that she was going to do roll call. How boring! She took great interest in a string hanging off of her jeans and tugged at it. It didn’t come off and all she succeeded in doing was making it longer. When her name was called, she said here, but they still had nearly half the alphabet to get through. In the meantime, she continued playing with the piece of string.

Finally, roll call was over and the lesson had begun. She wasn’t an experienced flyer even though her parents were both magical, but due to the area they lived in, having a broom was impractical. Not to mention that practicing without the use of invisibility charms was near impossible. But she did know about the idea of flying and about Quidditch, which made the idea of flying seem less intimidating since the existence had always been a given.

Following instruction, Sutton put her hand over the broom and commanded, “Up!” Easily, the broom came to her hand, which was due to her high level of confidence in sports. She felt completely at ease as she swung her leg over the broom. It was a little uncomfortable, but so was anything that was unfamiliar. When she had first held a hockey stick, it had felt strange, but she had become more comfortable with it and having her own had felt even better, because it had fit her. This one was a little bigger than one she would have chosen for herself, so it took more effort to adjust to where she was going.

As she was beginning to get more familiar with this broom, she saw another girl wave at her. She waved back, nearly taking her broom down, but righted herself quickly enough and flew over to where the girl was. “Hey there! This flying thing is pretty cool, right? Have you flown before? You look like a natural. I’m Sutton, by the way. What’s your name?” She had a bad habit of talking to quickly when she was excited and this was definitely exciting. Hopefully, she hadn’t overwhelmed the girl.

0 Sutton Nicolls, Pecari I fly on a board 311 Sutton Nicolls, Pecari 0 5

Aislinn Nicolls, Aladren

January 18, 2015 7:53 PM

Never again. by Aislinn Nicolls, Aladren

Flying lessons were absolutely unnecessary for someone such as Aislinn. She had no intention of ever flying on a broom and for good reason. There were so many flying related injuries every year. One could argue that flying was important in terms of travel and she supposed that for some it was, but there were also other ways to travel such as floo powder and apparation. Plus, there were always muggle ways to travel. All of which, to her, rendered flying unnecessary and therefore, this class was unnecessary.

Not to mention, this class was just waiting to bring down her overall average. She just knew it. She was by no means athletic in any way. She loathed sports. The only thing that they ever served to do was to make her sweaty and humiliated. She was always the last picked for teams, because they knew how awful she was at sports. She inevitably was the person to lose the game for whatever team she was on. In baseball, she could never hit the ball and in dodge ball, she was always the first one out. She was so bad at them that she couldn’t even ride a bike to this day.

In most classes, she was always sure to sit in the front of the classroom, always eager to learn, but now she stood towards the back, hoping to go unnoticed. The only time she spoke was when the professor called her name for role. Then, came the dreaded moment. The moment when she was supposed to get the broom to come to her hand. She did as instructed and put her hand over the broom. “Up!” The broom did absolutely nothing. She tried again and still nothing. “Up!” The broom moved a bit. She said it again, but the broom stayed on the ground. Getting frustrated, she tried again a few more times. Finally, the broom came up to her hand, but it was slow moving.

Perhaps, it was her reluctance that was affecting the broom, which if so, she could understand why. She had no desire to get on the broom. Unenthusiastically, Aislinn got on the broom. It was wobbly and hard. She clung to it for dear life and only hovered a couple feet off the ground. She didn’t dare go up any higher for fear of falling. She couldn’t wait for this class to be over. She couldn’t wait to get off the broom. “I hate this. I hate this. I hate this.” She said this while her knuckles turned white from gripping the broom and her eyes were squeezed shut.

0 Aislinn Nicolls, Aladren Never again. 297 Aislinn Nicolls, Aladren 0 5

Lauren Song, Teppenpaw

January 20, 2015 9:50 PM

Me too! by Lauren Song, Teppenpaw

Lauren was a little nervous about flying lessons. She knew what a broom looked like and had watched a couple of Quidditch games with her brother when their uncle happened to get free tickets. But besides all that, Lauren had never actually handled a broom by herself. Or at all. She never liked looking foolish especially in front of people she didn't know. Using a wand was okay in her book because her body wasn't physically moving around, but flying was a whole other thing. She would have to somehow get into the air and not fall back down. Brooms meant balance, and the only balance Lauren had ever needed was on a bicycle. She hoped that would help.

Coach Olivers was also the Charms teacher, and Lauren wondered briefly if she had ever played Quidditch herself. Maybe Coach Olivers had been on a professional Quidditch team before being a Charms professor. The professors here had to have had some kind of cool job before deciding to teach for the rest of their lives. Teaching was a little boring in Lauren's point of view, but she didn't know much about it. When Coach Olivers called her name, she said, "Here!" in a voice quieter than usual. Being at a magical school was a little intimidating. Though Lauren had grown up with magic in her household, her mom had wanted to raise her and her siblings in a muggle environment. That meant going to elementary school with kids she couldn't tell about magic. Here, it was different. Everyone was in on the secret and Lauren liked the environment a lot more, though now she didn't feel as special.

It was time to get an actual broom, and the Korean-American witch picked one up with the rest of her classmates. It was a little heavier than she had imagined, but really cool-looking. She'd never been interested to hold an actual broom, but here she was with one in her hand. She put it down on the ground and watched as Coach Olivers put it down and commanded it into her hand.

Well that was intimidating.

Lauren looked down at the lifeless broom on the ground next to her. She put her hand over it, imagining some kind of power emanating from her hand. "Up," she said, using her don't-mess-with-me voice that only came out when she was telling her siblings what to do or teaching her dog to do a trick. She was surprised by the broom slapping itself into her hand at the blink of an eye. "Whoa," she said, teetering slightly at the force of it. She smiled a little to herself and sat on it. She kicked off gently, and the broom actually moved! Lauren felt like a natural flyer; maybe in some past life she had been an avid Quidditch player.

There was a curly-haired girl who looked fascinated by all of this, and Lauren tried to figure out how to push her broom forward to catch up to her. Maybe the other girl could be a potential friend; while Lauren liked her roommates, it would be good to get to know other classmates. She moved her hips forward, but that didn't seem to do anything. So she kicked the ground a little harder as she leaned forward, and the broom suddenly shot forward.

A muted scream escaped her, and Lauren pulled the broom back so hard she almost flipped over. She fell off the broom and crashed to the ground. Luckily she'd only been a few inches off the ground, but it was still embarrassing. And it hurt. Lauren sat up and brushed the grass off her uniform. There would definitely be grass stains that she would have to rub out somehow and probably a bruise on her hip. Lauren wondered if the other girl had seen everything, and the thought made her want to cover her face. How embarrassing.

0 Lauren Song, Teppenpaw Me too! 0 Lauren Song, Teppenpaw 0 5

Anna Clarissa

January 22, 2015 9:18 AM

Need some help there? by Anna Clarissa

There was a noise like something in distress, and Anna Clarissa turned her head around, searching for whatever had made the noise. She must have shifted a little bit too, because the broom kind of moved with her a little bit. The movement had unsettled her balance a little bit, so the curly-haired Pecari took a second to move around a little bit so she wouldn't fall off and hurt herself. It wouldn't be a bad fall - she'd had worse from the monkey bars on the jungle gym by her cousin's house - but in general, Anna Clarissa felt as though falling was to be avoided.

Apparently not everyone thought that way though, because there was another girl currently on the ground brushing herself off in such a way that indicated she had not been on the ground previously. Suddenly, Anna Clarissa understood why the coach hadn't wanted them to go up very high. If they had, she could see how they could get very seriously hurt. And if someone fell down and broke their arm, how would they use their wand? Were wands okay with being used in both of your hands? Maybe some of them were but some of them weren't, like ambidexterous wands. The first year had tried to learn to be ambidexterous in fourth grade but had quickly gotten bored.

"Hey wow are you doing okay?" Anna Clarissa called from her broom, suddenly realizing she had no idea how to get it down. She nudged it a little bit and instead of going down it went to the side. Well, there was only one thing to do then.

Anna Clarissa maneuvered herself in such a way that she was able to slip off the broom while keeping her hands on the stick part. She looked down - her feet weren't quite touching the ground, but it wasn't that far away. The Pecari let go, and in turn the broom fell to the ground and made a satisfactory thumping noise. Anna Clarissa walked over to her new friend and brushed an extra blade of grass off the other girl's robe. "You wanna be careful with brooms," the Pecari said confidently. "They're ornery." A word she had picked up from her roommate Izzy.

0 Anna Clarissa Need some help there? 0 Anna Clarissa 0 5

Owen

January 22, 2015 5:09 PM

Friends, I hope by Owen

Owen returned the smile. Maybe he and Jemima would get to be really good friends, he'd really like that. He'd never actually had a friend before. "Agreed." He felt being nice to others was one of the more important things in life and he was glad to see Jemima seemed to think being friendly was good too. Despite a small part of him having wanted to be in Aladren, he was glad to be where he was now so that part was further shrinking.

The first year chuckled. "Mine's shortened significantly. Are those other Wolseithcraftes siblings or cousins?" Owen asked. "The other Brockerts here are all my distant cousins." Uncle Mortimer was his closest relative currently at Sonora, but he wasn't sure he wanted to specifically mention that. Of course, the last names made it pretty clear that they were related, but Jemima wouldn't know his family tree and he didn't want to take a chance of appearing snobby. Or maybe her relatives didn't like his uncle.

"I don't really know them that well though." He admitted. "I basically just met most of them on the wagon ride here." They had seemed nice enough but Owen had still felt rather left out given that they did know each other. Even Duncan who was no more closely related to them than he was seemed close enough with at least Serena. He didn't think that they'd meant to exclude him or necessarily realized he felt that way though.

"Oh, that's really cool!" Owen replied. He really appreciated artwork and enjoyed the beauty of it. "Mostly I write fantasy stories. Short ones right now." Though he really wanted to write a full novel some time and create a whole fantasy kingdom of his own that he could create a whole series of novels based around.

He tried to think of a reciprocal question. "So, um, what do you like to paint?" Okay, that was a little awkward but he couldn't think of anything better.

11 Owen Friends, I hope 300 Owen 0 5

Ginger

January 23, 2015 8:43 PM

I've not seen a flying board before by Ginger

Ginger realized with no small amount of chagrin that she had drifted near to the beginner lesson and had addressed, not an experienced flier who might want to fly laps with her as she had hoped, but one of the newbies who had to stay with the professor. Not good. Coach Olivers had clearly instructed the experienced fliers like Ginger not to interfere with the lesson.

She tried - belatedly - to try to cover her look of panic, and eased her broom closer to the other students, hoping Coach Olivers hadn't noticed the interloper join the beginner lesson. Maybe if Ginger pretended she'd been here all along and was just doing what all the other newbie fliers were doing, she wouldn't get in trouble?

Besides, it wouldn't be terrible to stick around and give advice, right? That's helping, not interfering, isn't it? And it would be more useful than just flying laps, too.

"I don't fly often," she admitted humbly, pleased by the compliment to her ability, "But I was taught by two of my cousins who were both Pecari Quidditch Captains in their day." She smiled warmly at the other girl who seemed really nice, if nearly as fast a talker as Ginger was when she got excited. "I'm Ginger, by the way," she added in introduction.

"You seem to be doing pretty well," she continued, basing the assessment on a comparison to the other beginners, some of whom hadn't gotten their brooms UP off the ground yet. The other girl was definitely still shaky in her flight, especially compared to Ginger, but some practice ought to sort that out before long. "Is this your first time on a broom?"

1 Ginger I've not seen a flying board before 302 Ginger 0 5

Jemima

January 31, 2015 9:32 AM

That sounds good. But I don't think it gets a passing grade. by Jemima

“My brother and sister,” she confirmed, when Owen asked about her family, “Wow… That must be kind of strange,” she commented when he mentioned that everyone else with his name was only a distant relative. It was hard for her to get her head around that there could be lots of people who were your family around but for you to not really know them. Not that she was very close to Francesca and Theodore, but they were still her brother and sister. She still knew them and could go to them if she needed help. Maybe Owen was all on his own in spite of his family running the school, and that seemed an odd idea. “But it’ll be ok, cos we’re in Teppenpaw and everyone there seems super nice, so I’m sure you’ll feel right at home anyway, even if you don’t have close family” she added sincerely.

“That sounds good. I like fantasy stories,” she smiled.

“Um, I don’t really know,” she admitted, when he asked what she liked to paint. “I’m still experimenting. I have this big book of art projects and studies that I’m working my way through to try to get better and learn more techniques and things. Though I prefer bright things. Like acrylic paint or pastels - in spite of the name, you get some really vibrant colours. I find sketching and water colours a bit boring,” she explained, hoping that she at least sounded a little like she knew what she was talking about. She loved art and she tried really hard to be good at it but she knew there was a lot about it that she still didn’t understand. She wasn’t very good at explaining her opinions using grown up arty words, and was worried that people would catch her out this way and then not take her very seriously. She rarely credited the notion that she might not talk like a grown up because she wasn’t one and that no one but her expected her to. The idea only crossed her mind in the form of looking forward to the day when she did know enough and was clever enough not to have to worry.

13 Jemima That sounds good. But I don't think it gets a passing grade. 304 Jemima 0 5

Barnaby, Aladren

February 05, 2015 7:31 PM

Flying and Quidditch kind of go hand in hand... by Barnaby, Aladren

So it would seem that Spencer was not like Tarquin in that he did enjoy the rough and tumble sport of Quidditch. However, he had been sorted into Aladren and Barnaby knew that something like that wouldn’t have happened for no reason. It was just illogical (unless, perhaps, Spencer just hadn’t been well-suited for any other house for a variety of reasons and Aladren just happened to be the one he had the most traits in common with). Barnaby pondered over this thought before deciding that it wasn’t something that mattered either way to him much in the long run because either Spencer would be a good Tarquin or he wouldn’t and if he was then Barnaby would get to know him over the years and if he wasn’t then so long as he didn’t have any plots to take over the world he wouldn’t be of much concern to the eleven-year-old (Barnaby hated how people referred to themselves as being almost a certain age as it made them sound juvenile. When he turned twelve in January, he would no longer be eleven but never before then.

“I don’t know, I do enjoy flying though,” Barnaby replied truthfully as he caught the Quaffle with relative ease. After all, there was no point in lying about something that would very soon be made quite public and if Spencer did try out and Barnaby said he was going to and then didn’t show up for said try-outs well… He didn’t even finish the thought, thinking about how bad that would be for his credibility—something that he wanted to build up over his time at Sonora so that once he graduated plans could be laid into action and he would not have too many dissenters who could go against him. He gave the Quaffle a few experimental tosses. It was a different weight than the ones Alfie had used but that, Barnaby decided, was because Alfie was weird and as an extra challenge had gotten a house elf to sew weights into the seams of his Quaffle. “Perhaps, are you?” There, best leave at that, he thought. To keep his answer simple and truthful was the best option.

Spencer took his place and Barnaby tucked the Quaffle under his arm, flying straight towards the goal with the speed he could muster on the school broom. He didn’t have his own broom (having used Alfie’s when Alfie wasn’t home or Tarquin’s when the needed to use a broom for practical, “scientific” (if wizards had such an equivalent) reasons for “research” ) and as such was used to not knowing the ins and outs of a specific model of broom. The self-created wind nipped his cheeks a little, his pale skin blossoming with a healthy blush, and he squinted his bright blue eyes to keep them from drying out. As much as Quidditch wasn’t his Thing, Barnaby did enjoy flying and as such a smile appeared on his lips. Once he reached an appropriate throwing distance, he flipped his head in an awkward manner to get some of the blonde strands that had fallen out of his normally impeccably neat hairstyle, and took his shot.

It was by no means perfect, and Barnaby realized after he had thrown it that perhaps he had given his arm too much force without transferring it all to the ball, but such was the experience of one who wasn’t used to playing Quidditch all the time. The Quaffle seemed to wobble a little, but Barnaby wasn’t sure if that was just an effect from the dratted hair that had fallen back into his face or if that was what was actually happening, and he waited with baited breath to see the fate of his shot.

10 Barnaby, Aladren Flying and Quidditch kind of go hand in hand... 298 Barnaby, Aladren 0 5

Jack Spencer

February 13, 2015 3:55 AM

So they say. by Jack Spencer

His room-mate’s answer was vague, and Jack wondered briefly if Barnaby was afraid of playing but didn’t want to admit to it. Jack himself had never been a fan of bludgers, though with a bat in his hand he fancied he’d be a bit more confident, but he didn’t want to be afraid all the time and never do anything. His mum was like that, afraid for her children, and hardly let them have any fun when they weren’t with their tutor. It was thanks to his older siblings that Jack got out of the house at all; moving to London must have been his mother’s greatest fear the way she treated them. Even sending them to Sonora after the incident however many years ago made her nervous at times. Jack was forever grateful Dad had decided to take a stable job at the hospital where he was at home regularly. Otherwise Mum would have gone mental.

“Yeah, I’m going to,” said Jack. “I love watching it, but I’ve never played before. I hope I’ll snag a spot on the team.”

Now that they were separated by distance, conversation had stopped. He watched as Barnaby took a flying start from his position, and Jack’s heart leapt up to his throat momentarily. It was nerve-wracking, having someone fly straight at him with the intent to throw something at him, but he held his ground as long as he could bear it. A hair-flip later and the Quaffle was in the air heading towards one of the hoops. Jack did his best to hold onto his broom, one hand gripping it like a vice and the other stretched out to block it. He was able to whack it out of the air with the palm of his hand, but it dropped quickly downwards. Jack flew down quickly to scoop it back up, his blood pumping and his pale cheeks flushed from his nerves.

“Nice shot,” he said pleasantly, his brown hair mussed from his short flight. “I’ll take a turn.” Without waiting for a reply, he flew back down the pitch with the Quaffle under his arm, eager to take a shot at real Quidditch hoops. When he was at the halfway point, Jack turned around and began flying the opposite way towards Barnaby, thinking of the appropriate way to shoot a goal. He’d seen loads of professional players make brilliant shots and faux passes that distracted the Keeper from doing his job. He thought he’d try one pass just to see what it felt like despite his inexperience. At the appropriate distance, Jack turned to the side and threw the Quaffle at the top hoop by throwing it over his head with his right arm. It fell flat; there wasn’t nearly enough power in his throw, but it was difficult to flick his wrist in just the right way whilst pushing the Quaffle with his fingers. At least now he knew what it felt like; it was just a bit embarrassing to be caught with such a bad throw.

40 Jack Spencer So they say. 299 Jack Spencer 0 5