Shoot For the Moon, You'll Land... Somewhere Solo

☽⦙ Date | Beginning of November, 2024 ⦙☾
☽⦙ Thread With | Me, Myself, and I ⦙☾
☽⦙ Hex Code | #810B2D ⦙☾

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The best thing about owning your own broom was the fact that you didn't have to worry about finding a broom if you snuck out to fly at night. This is how Dori found themselves walking through the halls leading out of the castle with their Silver Arrow in their hand sewn back sling for it. They also carried a tote bag over their shoulder with water and some snacks for the physical labor that they were about to put themselves under. Muggle clothes came in handy in a time like this, an all black athletic set helped them cling to the walls (especially under their black cloak) to try and stay invisible to any patrolling prefects or adults. Six years of doing this kind of stuff, you get kind of good at sneaking out. Though, there was always still the thrilling adrenaline of the possibility of getting caught thrumming through their very veins.

Once they were outside they tucked themselves under a particularly large tree to un-sling their broom and release it from the bag straps. The sewn "case" was folded up and gently slid into the tote bag before they mounted up and flew the short distance to the Quidditch Stadium. It had to be right in the middle of the night, no later than 1:30am at the very latest. They could've just done flying practice in the daylight, but they wanted the solitude that came with the deep wash of midnight black sky, illuminated by the light of the moon.

As this wasn't the practice flight yet, they let themselves enjoy the cold November air dancing over their skin as they reached their arms up to stretch, then letting them fall slightly to be outstretched on either side of them. They were their own Rose at the front of the Titanic. Their eyes fluttered shut as they breathed in the fresh air, let themselves feel weightless... except... they really couldn't feel weightless. There was too much weighing on them, all the time. So, their shoulders sagged and their arms dropped all the way back to hold the broom once more. Deflated by the sudden inability to feel even the slightest bit of carefree atop a broom.

This used to be a fun activity for them, novel even, the idea of flying. Though, Percival Gray made them feel like shit about not having access to flying in muggle houses in their first year. But over the years it became so novel that over time it barely registered as something they once didn't have the ability to fathom as something more than a far away fantasy. It really only occurred to them when they were back home and weren't allowed to fly anywhere that it would remind them that this is a privilege that they held.

And there was that forever nagging question, why were they chosen to be magical?

Especially since they ended up being mediocre at best with every magical endeavor that they tried. They still could barely handle transfiguration class, and every time there was animal transformation involved they cried. Their grades were great, sure, but they felt like they had to constantly work so hard to keep them at the level they wanted them to be. This was rarer than a once in a lifetime opportunity for them, especially since there was the possibility that in their whole blood line they were the first wizard. It was terrifying, honestly. And now they were in their sixth year, and what did they really have to show for it?

At this point they had reached the stadium and they decided on a random Gryffindor decorated spectator stand to drop their stuff off and do one last broom check before they put it through the wringer. Dori made a note to give the broom a good spa day soon, it had been awhile since they had done a deep clean and polish of their flying instrument. For now though, it was in perfectly fine condition. The point of this midnight practice session was aim. They needed to be better at hitting their targets more consistently while flying for the Hufflepuff broom racing team, and luckily the hoops provided the perfect option for practice while flying at high speeds weaving in-between the stands. "Ugh, this is dumb. No- it's fine. It'll be great. Who needs sleep." They murmured to themselves, getting more non-nonsensical and grumpy as they finished getting ready.

Their broom flew to their hand easily at the command of the familiar 'Up!' and it was less than a second later that Dori pushed off and started doing a couple warm up laps around the whole of the pitch, twirling their wand in their hand to get their hand warmed up as well. Honestly, they didn't even know if this was good and practical practice. But, it's what they had and the idea they thought of that didn't involve begging their captains for good drills to run by themselves at midnight by themselves.

Dori had to be better, their aim more precise, if there was a way to practice their evasive tactics they would. They needed their house to be proud of them, for Professor Browne to be proud, to be able to come home and tell their parents of everything they accomplished, for Elsi to never have to make another double-sided win and lose poster for their sports matches.

Their speed started to pick up, they leaned down to the more aerodynamic pose rather than sitting straight up on their broom and enjoying the flight.

Sometimes they wondered why they still did sports, after all these years. Quidditch was their first, it was beautiful, and magical- and then... it was ruined for them forever. By one game. The echoing sound of a boy's bones breaking by their captain's pure grip strength that they'd never forget. And- all of their duelling loses. Their first duel was at least a win against Opeila and Adonis, way back when. But that's... where it ended for a long time. The second duel they had was especially cruel, as it was them versus a Ravenclaw named Callie for most of it, as both of their partner's had been knocked out quite early. But still, a loss. The third one against Gryffindor, a loss. The fourth one against Slytherin, extremely weird for reasons they didn't know at the time, their partner knocked out for most of it again. The fifth one against Ravenclaw, their partner lasted longer, but left alone on the piste, again. The sixth one against Gryffindor, especially cruel as her partner went down in the first few rounds, and once again... alone. Against two duellists. The seventh, their first as Dori instead of Willow, against Ravenclaw and alone at the end. Their eighth duel, after six losses in a row, finally... a win. But their ninth, they lost again.

They couldn't do it anymore, they couldn't bear looking up at the stands to see Elsi double-checking which side he had visible. They couldn't watch partner after partner fall and leave them helpless on the piste. They trained so hard in healing, they just the healing internship for Goddess-sake just to try and be able to keep their duelling partners up for a little longer, and it barely ever mattered. Their efforts, their practice, barely ever mattered... so why did they keep trying?

At this point, they were at the full speed they usually hovered around for broom racing. They pulled their broom off of just doing laps and started to weave through the spectator stands. Started to make their maneuvers riskier and harder. As they pulled around to the goal posts, they tried to aim for the top one "Saggita!" They casted far too late, and the arrow completely over shot and missed.

It was just more practice, they had always needed to work harder to achieve what people were around magic their whole lives knew by the time they even got to Hogwarts. Even Elsi seemed to have it easier than them, which- honestly, if he just put a little more effort into it he'd be even better off but instead Dori was left trying to keep him awake in class and writing him notes in a way that worked for him which was completely different from how Dori wrote their own notes. That's just what they always had to do, work harder to keep up.

They rounded the other side of the pitch, and aimed for one of the hoops that was lower, trying to time it better... and... now! "Saggita!" This one dinged off of the side of the hoop, an improvement but it wasn't perfect. Maybe they should've worn gloves, it was still fairly cold out. Next time, that'll help.

Broom racing was going fine, they even crossed the finish line with Serena last year. But... they still could've gotten there faster, or easier. They weren't a professional broom racer, so surely there was room to get better... on top of... everything else that they were doing at school.

Another turn, another aimed shot. "Saggit- ah!" They cut a corner too close, and almost collided with a spectator tent. Luckily they were able to change course last second, but they spell died with their exclamation. They focused on regaining their speed after the re-route.

There wasn't that much happening in their life, school was kind of- their whole life. That was the point of a boarding school. You had to throw yourself in as much as you could, and that's how you make friends and expand a wizarding resume. Prefect twice, headliner writer, broom racer, part of the healing internship, a sixth year now. And yet... no idea what they wanted to do with their life so what resume were they filling out? Jack of all trades, mediocre at none?

Ok, this time they weren't going to nearly collide with a spectator stand, "Saggita!" This time, the arrow soared through the center of the hoop they were aiming for. A breath they didn't realize they had been holding released into a frosty cloud of air. But, one success wasn't good enough.

That was kind of the whole thing, right? One success wasn't good enough. They had to be able to succeed over, and over, and over, and over, and over. They couldn't trace the planters of the seeds of doubt that had grown into unmanageable vines over their ego. They had a guess for contributing gardeners, but at the center they could only see themselves.

That was their whole night. Another lap, another shot. Miss. Score. It didn't matter, do it again. Don't think about the fact that you have things to do tomorrow and haven't slept yet. You've been slacking, you need to do better. Think about Hufflepuff. Think about your parents. Think about Elsi, who thinks you're the universe, and every star within it is an endless possibility that exists within you. Your possibilities are exploding, shattering before your eyes. You have to do- better. You cannot fail them, because if you fail them people will get hurt.

It was only when they saw the first rays of light peeking over the horizon that they even thought to stop. They finally slowed, taking cool down laps that let the pain slowly creep into their bones and muscles. Their whole body screaming in protest when they moved to dismount next to their bag. Their whole body felt locked into the position of being on the broom, so they took a minute to stretch out their limbs. They lifted their sleeve up to wipe the tears away they insisted were from the wind away, but the only person they had to convince was themselves and even they didn't quite buy it.

Luckily, it was a Saturday so hopefully they could task a friend with bringing them food under the pretense that they weren't feeling well or something. It wasn't like Dori didn't keep ample snacks for in between meals on the weekend. Then if they stayed in bed all day they could study more, with less interruptions. They took out their water and took a few sips before remounting just to fly closer to the castle. As soon as it felt reasonable, they dismounted once more to walk the rest of the way. A nice little walk to cool down.

Once they returned back to the Hufflepuff dorm, it was off to the showers then back in bed to take a quick nap before starting on their homework.

The last thought that flitted through their mind as their eyes slid shut like an iron vault was a brief hope that Elsi wouldn't notice that they wouldn't be at breakfast today.

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