To Fly Without a Broom PV Archer Duncan

Yes, Avis was still there when Hans returned - technically. She was standing on the stone viaduct, yes, but mentally, she was soaring above London on a sturdy broom, grinning as the wind whipped her hair back and she effortlessly dodged an incoming bird, until - SNAP.

Thankfully, Avis was not in London. She was at Hogwarts, weakly holding a broom that could drop out of her trembling hand at any moment. She watched as Hans mounted his broom, and if he looked back at her, he would see a frozen Avis, trying her very hardest to look at not frozen as possible. "Er..." She muttered, glancing down at her broom. "You have to, um, check the broom first. You know, safety and all that?" Her statement ended as a question, a fact in which she cursed herself. She didn't need his permission to do a safety check. She examined her broom without really seeing it. It certainly didn't matter, not if she wasn't planning to get on her broom.

No. Wait. Avis was terrified of flying, of the takeoff, the flight, the falling from the sky. It was irrational, she knew it. Even if she broke every bone in her body, the infirmity could heal her in record time. If she went to them. Not that she was planning to. She didn't need another scolding from the nurse. But there was one thing she was more scared of than flying - judgement. Priorities.

And Hans seemed...confident. Which was what Avis was supposed to be. She shifted the broom to her other hand, her fingers itching the twitch on the other. She bit her lip as they danced across her leg, before turning the broom horizontal. Step 1: completed. She glanced at Hans with the slightest bit of pride slipping into her expression.

Before immediatly wiping that off her face. What coward actually got proud of turning a stick sideways? Clearly, Hans was going to think she was an utter loser for that. The only way to remedy that was to take another step: Mounting the stick.

Her sheer determination pulled her leg over the broom, and she was mounted. She deliberately didn't look in Hans direction - she did not want to see the look on his face.

The easy part was done.

@Archer Duncan

banner by Oonagh Brown || interacting as Hans Jenssen

And so there they were, two students holding onto two brooms with questionable condition, with one having promised the other a lesson out of all things. Hans, however, allowed the characteristic arrogance to wash over him, seeping swagger into every motion as that cocksure grin spread across his lips. He had been flying for three years, ever since he was first introduced to Durmstrang’s brooms, and had sat through theory far longer than that. He was a racer — this was quite literally his domain. So if he was about to have a bout of imposter syndrome regarding his place on the team or qualifications to teach, that could wait until far, far later. He had every right in the world to be confident, and so he did, willing the emotion into his very bloodstream.

Avis seemed unsure of herself frozen in place as he mounted his broom and gestured for her to do the same, but at least Hans wasn’t. That pride, that intolerable pride, should have been enough to cover for the both of them.

Then Hans cocked his head ever so slightly, perhaps in curiousness, almost taken aback at the statement on safety. It was insulting for her to assume that he had not already when he chose the two brooms, which at least seemed to be more acceptable than the others thrown into the pile in the Quidditch pit. Hans may be as much of a Hell-Chaser as Valentin Schnell but he knew the lines between controlled danger and recklessness. If he was about to go cliff diving, which Hans thought was a perfectly accurate compliment to the sport of racing, he had enough sense to do it on a sturdy broom at least. He did not need two deaths on his hands, and one of them including his own at that. But, nevertheless, he said nothing, finding not point in the interjection as she already begun doing the mandatory processes herself.

Still looking indecisive, Hans knew he was dealing with no Oonagh, so displaying that record patience, he waited as the girl deliberated between her fears and her own pride. He watched as the peer pressure settled in, and knew that feeling better than anything, a taunt in his head that pushed him to do something he would never otherwise, and a creeping sensation of humiliation if he didn’t. The responsible side of him urged at himself to reassure her that she would receive no judgment from backing down, but only rarely, only when called for in dire, was Hans a responsible boy. Schoolteachers often asked, “If he were to jump off a bridge, would you?” Now that question was literal, and jumping off a bridge may be exactly what Hans was going to do this glorious afternoon.

Therefore he allowed himself an encouraging look at Avis when she finally looked alive again, rather than no different from a stone statue. She shifted the broom nervously and turned it onto its side, the first step completed, if it could even be regarded as one (for purposes of today, Hans would be supportive). Opposed to what Avis might expect, Hans did not find her a loser for being “proud of turning a stick sideways”, and in fact offered her another smile at the, well, accomplishment, returning her pride with his own.

Surprisingly enough Avis was not done and soon, as the smile grew on Hans’ lips, her leg was over the broom and she was mounted, into that familiar position Hans had seen far too many times before at the starting line, fierce eyes set upon each other as wind howled in their ears. Right now, though, he reminded himself, he was simply instructing, not racing, and thinking this was a competition would mean leaving a bewildered Avis in dust as he sped towards the clouds. And she was already doing far better than he had expected from an acrophobe.

“Okay then, you’re doing well!” He exclaimed in encouragement. “Let’s handle this step by step then. You’re in the air, now let’s take off a little. Not too steeply, don’t rush it, and keep the tiles beneath you for now.” So you don’t fall to death, was, of course, the words he did not need to add. At least a tumble onto the stone would be better than into the abyss below. He displayed this to Avis by pointing his broom at a slight angle then rising a few feet into the air, nothing of the steep accelerations the racer was used to but he figured he had to compromise his fun for the purpose of Avis’ studies. He could always crash land some other day, and definitely not in front of his keen learner.

All this, Hans knew, was child’s play.

Avis frowned as Hans grinned that grin. That hadn't even started, and his mouth was curving up in a way that boasts of confidence. Even if Hans wasn't being arrogant, his confidence sure was, twisting between them like a sharp chasm, dividing his swagger and her self consciousness. But Avis kept her expression stoic and her hands still.

His confidence flew out of him in a way that Avis wished would happen ever to her. Not for flying. Nobody needed to be confident in flying. But for spells, for dueling. To look at a problem and think "I've got this." No doubts, no feeling like you were always ten steps behind, since the first 11 years of your life were spent without knowledge of this whole new world just behind the train station.

But Avis shoved that thought into the deepest alcove of her brain. She. Was. Fine.

Avis finally risked a nervous glance at Hans, and winced as he returned a bright smile. He was so encouraging, so supportive that it was almost worse. Avis couldn't believe that anyone would be that excited for turning a broom horizontal. So what did he really think?

No, there was no correct response Hans could have given. Avis' mind would have twisted any response he gave.

A pulsing in her hand drew her gaze down to her mark, the black slowly spidering out under her thumb. Frick. Was it getting worse?

Her mind spun. Hide it. Thankfully for everyone involved, Avis' hand landed on the broom, wrapping itself around the shaft tightly until the mark was hidden from view and both hands were tightly gripped.

Step 2 was done.

"You’re in the air, now let’s take off a little. Not too steeply, don’t rush it, and keep the tiles beneath you for now"

For now? "For now?!" her panicked gaze flew over the border to the water far far below. Surely he wasn't...

She stared at Hans, her feet still firmly planted on the hard, safe ground. Sitting on a broom was one thing. Going upward was another thing entirely.

@Hans Jenssen

banner by Oonagh Brown || interacting as Hans Jenssen

To his statement, meant to comfort Avis with the promise they weren’t actually taking off so soon, was met with panic instead as she repeated the words are to him. Unfazed, his gaze stayed on Avis as she gawked at the landscape he was about to fly over this afternoon. To him it was barely anything, and to him it was beautiful scenery from an aerial view. So Hans just shrugged, casual as ever, as if they weren’t discussing a matter that could cause serious injury when handled incorrectly, “If you don’t want to, I won’t push your boundaries, but what’s the fun in staying on solid ground when you could feel the wind in your face and the empty sky below you?”

Holding up a hand when he figured he wouldn’t sway her so easily, he made an offer, “Well, how about I show you how easy it is first and when I circle back, you can see if it’s for you?” Keeping his eyes on Avis in return for his stare, he commanded his own broom further above the cobblestones, and ignoring the allure of the waters below, made a quick round on the viaduct. His feet felt as if they were practically still on the ground. In fact, Merlin’s sake, it felt wrong to be flying so close to land; it felt wrong to be flying at all with something solid beneath him. “See?” He said, spreading out his arms, “Baby steps. I’m sure you can do it.”

When he was younger, sports coach had somehow made it to the list of jobs he would have considered, if only for a summer as a teenager. A romantic idea, looking back on it, and probably not one he would have thought reasonable at his current stage, but even though Avis was almost his age, he had to admit it was kind of amusing. Rewarding, even if nothing much was happening. “Listen, I barely know you, so you can do whatever you like, buuuut…” He urged, drawing out the word, “Just try it with the ground beneath you first, it’ll be fun!”

“If you don’t want to, I won’t push your boundaries, but what’s the fun in staying on solid ground when you could feel the wind in your face and the empty sky below you?”

Avis stared at him blankly, speaking slowly and enunciation each word in case he hadn't heard the words that had come out of his mouth only a moment late. "The empty sky below me..." She gestured off the side of the viaduct toward the large amount of "empty sky" that she absolutely did not want to fly over.

“Listen, I barely know you, so you can do whatever you like, buuuut…” Oh for holden's sake, no. Avis was not about to give up when this random kid had gone all the way to get a broom for her from... wherever they were kept. Probably near the grounds, right? Or the training pitch. It occurred to her that she - the Hogwarts student - had no idea where the brooms were kept. Meanwhile, this decidedly not Hogwarts student had managed to aquire them in the short time he had been here.

This probably should have been a concerning thought for Avis; however, she did not care in the slightest. She knew where the library was, and that was really all that mattered. She shrugged it off and focused back on the broom. She hadn't actually flown one since September. Maybe October. At least as much as she could avoid. But in the interest of not looking like an utter coward, And not making this thread take twenty years, Avis was going to blast this baby all the way to space. Squatting down a little bit, Avis picked up her feet behind her, frowning as the broom shook a bit.

Her head was actually lower than if she were simply standing, but her feet were in fact off the ground, which meant she was flying. It wasn't so bad, at this height, practically the same as a pommel horse. Tipping forward the slightest bit, Hans was going to quickly learn that Avis did not particulary know what "slighest" nor "bit" meant, as she shot forward much faster than she intended to, much higher than she intended to, flying off the top on the viaduct an over the so called "open sky".

Avis' balance was never good, but stressful situations certainly didn't help, and she fought to keep her broom upright.

@Hans Jenssen

Turns out either Avis had more guts than she was letting on, or she was just very bad at controlling her broom. If it turned out to be the latter, however, she was certainly good at hiding it with kept composure. Just as Hans was about to compliment her on getting her feet off the cobblestoned ground and into air — baby steps, but he had patience, Avis shot forward and up at a far faster speed than Hans had imagined, almost as if she was taking off for a race herself. “See?” Hans called, laughing, as he zoomed to her side, “You have the natural talent!”

The barrier to success, often, was purely psychological, and while Hans never believed in “manifestation”, whatever that meant, he certainly did the connections between thinking one would fail and actually failing. Certainly when he had been told flight could have been accomplished on the brooms and carpets described in stories Hans was more than sceptical, and more than concerned when he mounted his own broom. Yet the experiences in return, the wind whipping at his face and tousling his hair, being alone and at peace so high above all else in humanity — that was worth all the hesitance.

Realising that, unaccustomed on a broom, Hans flew closer to Avis. The magical world had blessed all its witches and wizards with the power of flight — how could people choose to pass up the opportunity? Whether a hang-gliding experience or laps in the sky on a broom, wizard or Muggle, everyone should at least feel flight once in their life. There was no greater ecstasy. “So?” Hans asked over the wind, positioning himself slightly lower than her just in case things went south, “How are you feeling?”

Glancing forward, he cocked his head and offered, “Do you wanna try making some distance?”

“So?...How are you feeling?”

How was she feeling? How was she feeling? Terrible. Worthless. Like she was about to plummet a million kilometres down into a dark expanse of water that probably held crocodiles and sharks and a whole assortment of child-eating bacteria. And Hans should have known that. Not that Avis was going to tell him. All things considered, her back was straight, her hands and face were only a few shades paler than normal, and her breathing, though rapid, was quite enough to be heard only by her panicking brain. Yes, Avis was doing a wonderful job of hiding her fear, while simultaneously hoping that Hans would just understand it and help her.

Really, this was all his fault for not being a mind reader.

A sharp wind cut through the air, and it was all Avis could do not to bail off the side. Back at home, it had been awfully easy to just slip out of her problems, but she had learned the last time she tried that that people tended to get annoyed if one dove off of a broom in order to protect oneself. Not to mention the lack of safety below her. Because of this, Avis was forced to actually deal with her problem. Oh the horror.

She tilted her broom just into the wind, counteracting the force pushing her the other way, although her muscles fought her movements every step of the way. “Do you wanna try making some distance?” Avis barely even heard the question, so focused she was on not slipping over the edge of her broom. In hindsight, it probably hadn't been the best of ideas to try to teach a student how to ride a broom on a bridge far above anything safe, but it seemed Hans was the type of person to teach his child how to swim by chucking them off the deep end, except in this case, over the edge of a giant chasm.

The wind finally paused in its gust against humanity, which should have been great. If Avis had realised this in time. Instead, she was so consumed in her thoughts that she didn't realise the air was still, yet she was still tilted sideways. As any broom rider would do, she instinctively yanked her broom the other way. Control, however, was still not Avis' friend. She pulled the broom far too far over, and her overcorrection put her in a much worse spot than before.

Shrieking, Avis hugged the broom with all her might. Screw the whole "bravery" thing. That was for people whose biggest problem was what people thought of them. Dying was a whole different ball game. Avis' momentum took her all the way around until she was gripping on upside down like a sloth giving a tree it's last hug.

@Hans Jenssen
I couldn't justify Avis being able to successfully fly being not above ground, and the only other option was a spectacular failure. I'm unsure how Hans will help her out with this but assuming he does, we can wrap up the thread there? Should make an interesting relationship I would love to develop further, Avis having "embarresed" herself so badly.

Well, Hans was no betting man, but if he were, he would have bet that everything would soon… go to shit. It was not that he placed no trust in Avis, it was simply that he might not have been the greatest teacher. Lacking the gentleness and patience coaching would have required it was not entirely incorrect for Avis to think he was the type of teacher to just throw a child with the inability to swim into the water. Whether it was walking or running, swimming or flying, these things were meant to come naturally. After all, one species of bird or another tossed their chicks off cliffs so they could grow their wings. But, he could digress, at least with a safety net.

Which, he supposed, was the reason for his presence today. Despite the balance and confidence she seemed to have found flying bare feet above solid ground was very different from flying over a chasm that opened above a river an eternity below them. While Hans would have been eager to dive down and do a classic pull up in the very last second, perhaps even graze the water, he could imagine not everyone shared his taste for such thrills, certainly not one still wobbly on her broom. And soon enough, the idea of “trying for some distance” became the least prioritised in Hans’ mind.

Instead, as Avis’ broom lopsided and toppled, Hans, in position already below her, swept even lower to accommodate for her fall. Although in the strategies of races he had always been going for speed, he too had practiced the save manoeuvres in case a teammate was to get knocked off their broom, and while it certainly wasn’t his signature move, it must have meant something when he caught Avis and reached out for her broom. Gripping the flimsy school issued equipment in one hand while shifting his weight so Avis could hold on in the other, he seemed fairly unfazed as he exhaled and reassured, “I got you.”

Soon enough, he pulled them upwards, careful not to go at a steep angle and instead attempting a rise. Although much slower than his normal sudden accelerations and sharp turns in altitude, as long as Avis was not in danger of falling off again, all could be tolerated. Commanding his broom forward as it reached above the viaduct, he steered it to the centre of the bridge and allowed a gentle downwards landing, the vehicle now floating just high enough above the ground to match the seat of a bicycle. “At least we tired,” he said, mounting off and gesturing for Avis to do the same. “And at least you flied, and for what it’s worth, you did well.”

Although he did not have a watch on him, the dips of the sun suggested he should have gone for preparations. After all, he still needed to return to his tent to get a much more pristine, hand made broom, on top of having to return the two he had borrowed. Turning to face the girl, he said, “I have the race to get to, but I’ll see you around Avis! It was nice meeting you, thanks for letting me teach you, however well that went.” She must have either had a great deal of trust or a great deal of stupidity.