Flying Lessons on Quidditch Pitch

Coach Kinsell

March 27, 2017 4:26 AM

Flying Lessons by Coach Kinsell

It was funny how the one thing Tim Kinsell had always sworn he’d never do had turned out to be the thing that finally felt right. Teaching. His parents had done it, his sister had done it, some of his cousins too. Some people said it was in his blood, but as a youngster Tim had had far greater aspirations than sitting in a stuffy classroom lecturing a bunch of equally stuffy kids.

Tim had wanted to be a professional Quidditch player but unfortunately he’d just never quite made the cut. He’d continued to to play in the amateur leagues for quite some time whilst he searched for another career path. He went to university a couple of times, worked in stadium design, sold Quidditch gear and brooms, but nothing ever stuck. He was a good salesman but it didn’t seem to be his calling. And then he made a career change that changed his life forever - he became a Quidditch commentator and eventually he got his big break. It wasn’t the kind of big break he’d been dreaming of since he was a young boy, but his name was a least known by the biggest Quidditch fanatics nationwide.

Through that he had begun to get involved with lower level youth clubs and such and coaching them had made him realise what it was he was really supposed to be doing. So here he was.

“Welcome to flying lessons,” Tim clasped his hands together as he spoke, his eyes scanning over the group of small children gathered in front of him. He had a nice, clear voice and an air of complete confidence. “My name is Coach Kinsell and I will be teaching you to fly this term.”

“I am aware that many of you will be at different levels and some of you will never have touched a broom before but please don’t worry,” Tim smiled. “I’ll have you flying in no time.” He wasn’t planning to push the students faster than they were comfortable with but was confident in his own abilities as an instructor.

“Before we get started, I need to take a quick roll call,” Tim said, reading the names off his list. Taking a register was a chore he wanted to get through quickly, although he knew he should probably take the time to try and remember who answered to which name. He’d pick them up as the year progressed, or at least he would try.

“You will see I have laid out the school brooms for you. Take your place behind a broom each. If you have brought your own brooms, please leave them over there for this lesson.” He didn’t care if some of the students had their own brooms for the first lesson - he wanted to see who was actually competent before he took their word for it. He’d been a cocky young kid once and knew exactly how easy it was to overestimate one’s abilities.

“For those of you who haven’t flown before, please pay close attention whilst I demonstrate,” Tim stood before the line of students and broomsticks with his own laid down beside him.

“First things first, you need to hold out your wand hand and then you’re going to say ‘up’ to command the broom to do just that,” Tim explained before proceeding to do just as he had described. “Up!” He spoke firmly and the broom instantly leapt up to meet his hand.

“It’s quite simple,” he smiled at the first year class. “Be confident and don’t worry if it doesn’t happen for you straight away. Once you’ve achieved that, you may mount your broom and stay up in the air for as long as you feel comfortable. Have a little fly about if you’re happy doing so.”

Tim knew he shouldn’t encourage the kids to show off because of health and safety grounds but he was tempted to. He hadn’t seen any of the Quidditch teams yet and was interested to see if there was any talent at the school.

“Give me a shout if you need help or have any questions or anything,” the new Quidditch Coach told the class. “Be safe and watch out for each other when you're in the air. Now get to it!”

Subthreads:

This broomstick is not a skateboard by Jennifer White with Cleo James, Crotalus

I have my doubts by Zevalyn Ives, Aladren

8 Coach Kinsell Flying Lessons 1445 Coach Kinsell 1 5

Jennifer White

March 28, 2017 4:14 PM

This broomstick is not a skateboard by Jennifer White

The first flying class was something to which Jen had been looking forward, but also had been dreading in equal measures. Despite growing up with her Mom, who was a witch, Jen had never shown any inclination to ride a broomstick, so she hadn’t ever tried. It wasn’t as though broomsticks were exactly cheap, so buying one just to leave it gathering dust in her bedroom hadn’t seemed like a sensible option anyway. She already used her skateboard to get around, and since that was fine for Muggles to see - plus she loves skating and was good at it - Jen would be among those first years who had never rode a broom before. If she liked flying, she could have something to distract her from leaving her skateboard at home. However if she hated flying, her life for the next few months would be Hell. A lot was hanging on this class.

Her black and white canvas shoes were almost entirely concealed by the wide hems of her jeans that dragged in the grass as she made her way to the small gathering of students who had arrived before her on the pitch. Unsure quite how serious Sonora Academy was about its students being in uniform robes all the time, the Aladren had kept hers on, despite her reservations about robes and broomsticks being a good combination. The coach didn’t say anything about robes one way or the other, so Jen decided to wear hers for now and take it off if it did actually become a problem.

After roll call, Jen walked up behind a broomstick that seemed to have fewer bent and broken twigs in its tail that others, and instructed it up. Her voice caught in her throat the first time, which was just typical. Hoping, but not really caring, that nobody had seen, Jen tried again. This second attempt allowed her voice to expel naturally through her throat, and the broomstick obeyed her command. It was satisfying. As far as she could tell, getting the broom into your hand was the easy bit. She had been listening for instructions on how to mount the broom, but none had been delivered. Just mount it.

“No problem,” Jen muttered as she grasped the broom handle firmly with both hands and swung a leg over. Actually it was surprisingly easy, she thought. So, as the first two tasks had been accomplished with no drama, Jen saw no reason to concern herself that pushing off and hovering would be anything beyond her capabilities. She bent her knees, and pushed as hard as she dared. With a thrill of exhilaration, she rose about a foot into the air, drifted sideways slowly, and gently bumped into another person. “Student flier, still learning,” she said in an apologetic tone, in lieu of an actual apology.

0 Jennifer White This broomstick is not a skateboard 388 Jennifer White 0 5

Cleo James, Crotalus

April 02, 2017 3:02 AM

Your powers of observation astound me by Cleo James, Crotalus

Cleo had struggled through her first days at Sonora, feeling incredibly homesick but lessons were providing a somewhat enjoyable distraction. She had lived her life on the fringe of magic - aware of it, and its capabilities, but having only a limited access to it. She and her dad lived in a small Muggle town, as he was keen to keep one foot grounded in the world he’d grown up in. Behind closed doors, they used magic - simple things, like locking up shop or completing household chores. Nothing flash, nothing attention grabbing, and Cleo most certainly had not been permitted to try anything of it herself. It was exciting to finally have her own wand, and to be able to explore this part of herself that she had always known existed but never been able to show before. Flying was a particularly fun aspect of that. As a child, she’d learnt to ride a bike and that had been all well and good, it was fun and it was useful for things like getting to the allotment on Sundays, but she knew that there was the option to fly - that she had that power, that the technology existed in her world, and sometimes when she was hot and sweaty from pedalling up a particularly challenging hill, she couldn’t help but wish she’d been able to glide smoothly up on a broomstick instead. Sometimes she had dreams where she’d be pedalling and her bike would take off…

She stood waiting with the other first years, wearing her green school robes. Her brilliantly blonde hair was only just long enough to tie back, and made a small, stubby ponytail when she did so. She had done this, along with removing her small gold hoop earrings, before this class on the grounds that it seemed roughly equivalent to P.E. and those were the rules. She also had tied it back the previous period for Potions because that was a bit like science. In elementary school, science experiments had mostly been things like ‘what floats?’ or ‘make a model volcano!’ which had not required health and safety procedures, but she knew that as one progressed into more dangerous territory, tying one’s hair back and wearing goggles were mandatory. Sonora didn’t seem to be overly concerned with potential threats to their eyesight (perhaps they could just magic it better if they got potions exploding in their faces, although she really still thought that would hurt quite a lot and would rather not have the experience) but keeping her hair tied back had made her feel a little safer whilst peering into a bubbling cauldron of mysterious ook. Cleo wasn’t generally a timid or overly cautious person. She could be a little unthinking and impulsive at times, which was why she liked a few simple rules to help keep her from doing something stupid.

She listened carefully to the directions from their Quidditch Coach. Get a broom. Be confident. Fly. Ok… She could handle that. She went to pick a broom, trying not to elbow others out of the way but also not be elbowed herself (she probably leant slightly more towards the former fault though, if she had to be categorised) and came away with something that looked like it wasn’t about to fall apart.

“Up!” she told it. Her voice was enthusiastic and eager, as she was very keen to fly, but apparently this wasn’t quite the same as ‘authoritative’ because the broom merely twitched.

“Up!” she told it, with a hint more frustration. Whilst her dad did his best not to spoil her, and believed that a level head was a very important feature in a person, the fact remained that Cleo was an only child of a single parent. The world fairly naturally revolved around her, with limited competition for her getting exactly what she wanted most of the time. This new combination of feelings seemed closer to the mark, as the broom jumped into her hand. Excited, she swung a leg over it and… then what? She pushed gently with her toes, not wanting to shoot off like a rocket, but that didn’t really give her enough height for her toes to clear the ground, and she did a couple of awkward bunny hops along near ground level before managing to give enough of a kick to be actually up in the air, whereupon she was directly knocked into by someone flying sideways. She lost her balance, tumbling onto the ground. She wasn’t anywhere near high enough to be badly hurt, but it was her elbow that hit the ground first and it smarted.

Student flier, still learning, the other girl threw at her. Although she sounded vaguely sorry, it didn’t escape Cleo’s notice that she hadn’t actually said she was. Growing up, Cleo had had a rather short temper. It was a bad habit, which her dad had patiently corrected, but it had never really gone away, it just tended to lie dormant. Angry to Cleo meant fire - a lot of her accidental magic as a child had revolved around setting things alight when she was cross or upset - and for this reason she pictured the emotion like a dragon. It wasn’t gone, but most of the time it was sleeping. Now though, the dragon raised its head. Bumps happened, she could rationally see that, and had that been all, and had the girl apologised properly, she probably could have got the dragon to put its head back down and go back to sleep, but the fact that this girl didn’t actually seem to care that she’d just knocked Cleo over made her not want to. Why should she control her feelings for someone who didn’t care that they’d just pushed her over? Pain was also a great catalyst for temper. Although it would fade very quickly, at that moment her elbow still hurt. She rubbed it, glaring at the other girl.

“We all are,” she said tartly, standing up and brushing her robes down, “That’s why we’re in a flying class.”

13 Cleo James, Crotalus Your powers of observation astound me 389 Cleo James, Crotalus 0 5

Jen

April 06, 2017 6:04 AM

Sarcasm is lost on me by Jen

It was unfortunate that the other girl had fallen off her broomstick, but she didn't have to be such a sour grape about it. It wasn't as if Jen had been zipping around at high speeds with the sole intention of unseating her classmates. She had barely nudged the grumpy heap of limbs on the ground giving her attitude. “I'm glad you understand,” Jen replied, with insincere cheerfulness.

The Attitude had righted herself, and, reassured she hadn't caused the other girl any damage, Jen diverted her attention back to her broomstick. It still was drifting sideways, but at a slightly different angle now. She lightly tugged and twitched the broom handle, her long fingers curling with unfamiliarity around the polished wood. After a short series of jumpy movements she successfully ceased moving, an uncomfortably short distance from the girl she'd already hit (or lightly touched,as was more accurate). “Close call,” she said, wondering if her successful collision prevention would pardon her initial transgression in the eyes of the Attitude.

Speaking of eyes (or thinking of them, at any rate), there was a smudge on her glasses that Jen would very much like to clean, but that would necessitate taking her hands off her broom, and she didn't think that was the best plan right now. Not that she thought flying with minimally obstructed vision was ideal, either, but it was by far the lesser of two evils in the given scenario.

0 Jen Sarcasm is lost on me 388 Jen 0 5

Zevalyn Ives, Aladren

April 06, 2017 11:35 AM

I have my doubts by Zevalyn Ives, Aladren

Zevalyn held serious doubts about this. Well, to be fair, she had a lot of doubts about many of the things she had encountered at Sonora, but broom riding? There was no way this fit into her idea of How The World Worked. Broomsticks simply did not have the aerodynamics to allow for flight. It was ridiculous and trope-y and she resented the brooms' very existence.

She took one anyway when instructed to do so because she was a good student and disobeying a teacher's direct order was not a thing she could do without greater cause than that she had some vague notion that riding a broom played into a Hollywood stereotype she wanted no part in living.

She put her hand out over the blasted thing and grudgingly told it, "Up." Naturally, as she expected, nothing happened.

This was like that David Eddings series. The Will and the Word. She'd done the Word, but with no Will behind it, it couldn't work. She wondered if the specific word mattered. She'd feel a little better about this whole thing if they were using a more respectable word. Up sounded so . . . elementary. Wouldn't it sound more adult, more credible and scientific if they decried Ascend or Elevate instead? At least the spells from classes all sounded vaguely Latin, which gave them all an air of classical age and respectability.

"Up" just sounded petulant.

Some of her classmates were started to get into the air now, and she couldn't let a bunch of eleven year olds show her up. She gathered her Will together and gave it a real try now, "Up!" she ordered, because for all she knew, it was keyword activated and the specific word did matter. Maybe later, once she'd gotten it working on the default setting, she could experiment and try other variants.

A twitch and a small rise then it fell back into its grassy cradle.

Annoyed now that she'd made a real effort and still failed, she became determined to best this glorified wooden stick. She narrowed her eyes at it and demanded, "Up!"

Less response than last time; just the twitch this time, no rise. And barely any twitch either.

Calm. She remained irritated, but she tried to settle herself and not rush through it. Magic was a delicate art. She couldn't remember which fictional character said that, but she was pretty sure they were right. Almost every book she'd read with magic in it insisted you needed to center yourself and work from a place of calm. Even those that did value strong emotion tended to get violence or fire from anger, and that really wasn't what she was going for here.

So calm. Breathe in. Breathe out. Hold her hand over the broom, ready to catch it. Believe it would work. It defied all physics, but her classmates were getting it, so empirical evidence proved it could be done. Gather Will. Release it with the Word. "Up!"

The broom leapt up into her hand.

Okay, good. Achievement earned. Ten XP. Not bad.

She was still reluctant to actually get astride it though. Looking at one of her nearby classmates, who had already managed to mount theirs, she asked in some concern, "Isn't that uncomfortable? Sitting on a skinny stick like that? Doesn't it give you a wedgie?"

1 Zevalyn Ives, Aladren I have my doubts 380 Zevalyn Ives, Aladren 0 5