When Sophie didn’t see Juliet at lunch, she knew that something was wrong, so she did what every loyal and concerned family member would do: hike up to the staff quarters and barge into her space. The Juliet she found was quite a shamble. How had she gotten so low without striking Sophie’s notice? It was definitely about her Quidditch thing, the team not wanting her back and all that. The end of Juliet’s professional career. After a long, serious talk, Sophie told Juliet to continue laying in bed and brought some ice cream (sometimes when things were bad, it was important to let yourself have those days) and promised to handle Flying Lessons today if she promised in return to make another go of it on Thursday, when they would meet next.
The blonde probably could have just gone and gotten Isis, as substituting was her literal job, but she instead decided to just run them herself. If nothing else, Sophie missed having cause to stand on the Pitch, brooms at the ready all around her. She was a former athlete too, after all, much longer retired. She wasn’t sure she’d been on a broom since her school days, which were already longer ago than she really wanted to admit.
“Surprise, it’s me again!” she joked as the first years arrived, as they would have met her the day before in their first Potions class. “As you probably realize, I am not the Quidditch Coach. I’m your friendly Potions professor, Sophie O’Malley. Unfortunately, Coach Grase could not make your lesson today.” Sophie paused briefly. “She sends her regards and assures that you are in very capable hands. I’m not a professional like she is, but I used to play on this very field, back when I was in school. You’re looking at a former Pecari Quidditch Captain!”
“But enough about me,” she insisted. “If you’re an experienced flyer, I won’t bore you with silly introductions. Grab a broom from the stack over there”--she gestured to the pile nearby--”and take to the air. Just don’t do anything stupid because I need a moment to talk to the rest of these guys before I can really keep an eye on you. Feel free to do laps or, if you want, there’s a few Quaffles over here you can throw around.” The small professor paused to allow the shuffle of broom-grabbing and movement, since otherwise it would have just distracted from what she was saying anyway. In the meantime, she eyed the first years before her and, now able to observe better here as opposed to her classroom where they were seated, checked if any were already taller than her. At just under five foot tall, it wasn’t too far-fetched a concern.
“Great, now for you new fliers,” Sophie smiled. “Your turn. Go get a broom.” She had been, during this whole time, leaning casually against her own broom, but she now sat it on the ground and stood upright. “Now, what you’re going to do is hold your dominant hand over the broom and say ‘Up’. Like this: Up!” The broom shot into her hand in a quick but controlled fashion. “Once you’ve gotten that far, I want you to mount your broom, gently kick off, and hover in the air for a few seconds before coming back down. When you feel ready, go ahead and try flying higher. Don’t worry if other people progress faster than you, either; there’s no shame in taking your time. If you have a question or concern, I’ll be down here watching you guys. So go ahead and give it your best shot!”
OOC: All mentions of Coach Juliet Grase were approved with her author. Remember not to have anything too dramatic and painful happen to your character; if they fall off the broom, Sophie would catch them before they hit the ground. Make sure to follow site rules: not writing for anyone else, using a minimum of 200 words, and doing your best to be creative. Now fly, my pretties, fly!
Kit marched down to the Quidditch Pitch in excitement for flying lessons. She had never ridden a broom before, which was going to make it a little difficult if she wanted to tryout for Quidditch. Of... more
Kir didn’t need flying lessons. He had grown up in a comfortably middle class household (a step or two down from his father’s own upbringing but still comfortable and pleasant) that felt brooms were... more
In direct contrast to how she felt about the library, Emerald eyed the pitch with a total lack of enthusiasm. Sport had never been even a slight interest of hers. She didn't have moral qualms about... more
Flying was not one of the lessons that Sawyer was looking forward to. It wasn’t the actual riding on the broom that made him nervous, but the actual height. He was a creature that much preferred the... more