After Class pv|Frederick

〚 •• ✎ •• 〛

| Location: Quid Training Pitch, after Flying class | Date: 12/02/26 | Word count: 427 |
────────────────────────────────────────────────────────

To be completely honest, Frederick had thought he would enjoy Flying lessons much more before coming to Hogwarts. Whenever his parents asked what he was most excited to experience at his new school, Quidditch was always his first answer, which made them laugh and ask again, clarifying that they meant actual subjects. In that case, Flying lessons were his second choice, of course. Once classes began, however, the restless boy discovered that every subject had both a practical and a theoretical component and Flying was no different. In his imagination, Frederick had pictured himself spending the entire lesson soaring through the air and learning daring maneuvers. The reality, unfortunately, fell quite short of that expectation.

Easily bored by lectures, he did his best to pay attention and absorb the theory, but deep down, his focus was fixed on the moment they would finally mount their brooms and take to the skies. In the end, as soon as the practical portion began, Frederick would completely forget that he hadn’t enjoyed the earlier part of the class. Already familiar with his broom and a few basic techniques, he carried out the professor’s instructions with ease. Still, the time always felt far too short. He was certain he could have kept flying for hours without growing tired.

When that day’s lesson finally came to an end, Frederick guided his broom down toward the snow-covered ground, landing smoothly on the soft white surface. He dismounted and exchanged a few words with fellow Gryffindors who were landing nearby, along with the Hufflepuffs who shared the Flying period with them. The weather was far from pleasant, but even so, Fred felt no rush to leave. He let his classmates move ahead of him while he walked at an unhurried pace, gazing at the snowy horizon and savoring the simple pleasure of breathing the crisp air outside the castle walls.

Lost in thought, he barely noticed someone nudging his shoulder. Curious, he turned around, and his bright blue eyes met the familiar, friendly smile of Maisie, his Hufflepuff friend. Frederick quickly tried to recall the last time they had spoken and remembered the Autumn Ball, the night they had shared such a great evening with friends. “Maisie! That’s brilliant, we’ve got Flying at the same time this year.” He returned her greeting with an easy grin. “It’s been a while since we’ve seen each other. I’m good, how about you?” Then, as if she had read his mind, she made a suggestion that made his grin widen instantly. “Oh, absolutely! Right now? Let’s go.”

────────────────────────────────────────────────────────
| Interacting with: @Maisie Fenwick Rose Williams |

Maisie smiled, the corners of her mouth curling upward into a gentle arc. "It really has been a long time." She thought about it now — it was true, they really hadn't seen each other in a while. The last time had been at the ball. That was... four months ago, back in October. Time passes so fast, the girl thought. Back then, they had just started school. Now, they were nearly entering their second year. "I'm doing alright too," she said. Frederick seemed to love the idea of Quidditch and that made the girl smile again. "Right now." she confirmed, flipping the broom in her hand over and gently knocking the snow from its bristles.

Maisie wasn't sure whether flying after class without permission would get them in trouble with a teacher, but probably not. That thought stayed with her as they retraced their steps back to the grounds used for flying lessons. Looking out at that stretch of grass, Maisie felt a pang of something. Flying lessons were only for first-years, and they would not be on their schedules for much longer. As a child from a wizarding family, prominent or not, her childhood had been full of flying over the green lawns at home with her brothers, and occasionally cousins who came to visit. She'd been younger then, and her mother had sternly warned her to fly low, but the feeling of soaring at height was something else entirely. How does one resist the bright blue sky? At home, she had always been the one chasing the snitch. At Hogwarts, she had put her name on the Seeker list not long after she was sorted. But everything came with a waiting.

By the time they reached the practice area, her worries had dissolved. The grounds were already lively — plenty of people out, most of them already in the air. And the girl was eager to join them. Maisie swung her school broom and threw one leg over the narrow wood, shifting her weight across, and let the other leg hang naturally in the air beside her. She looked over at Frederick. "Are you ready?" And with an almighty kick, she was rising into the afternoon sky.

〚 •• ✎ •• 〛

| Location: Quid Training Pitch, after Flying class | Date: 12/02/26 | Word count: 355 |
────────────────────────────────────────────────────────

As Frederick and Maisie greeted each other and began talking, the boy kept an easy, friendly expression on his face, a slight smile curling at the corners of his lips, his bright blue eyes reflecting the same warmth. “Nice! Let’s go, then,” Fred replied with enthusiasm. It didn’t take much to get him excited, especially when it involved flying, wizarding sports - particularly Quidditch - or any excuse to spend more time outdoors.

Walking beside her at a relaxed pace, completely at ease as if the idea of flying outside of class brought him no concern at all, Frederick rested the handle of his broom over his shoulder, holding it by one end while the bristles pointed behind him. He followed the path toward the practice fields almost automatically; it had been one of the first places he’d explored upon arriving at Hogwarts, and by now he knew several ways to get there by heart.

As they walked, Fred kept the conversation going, once someone got him talking, it was hard for him to let it drop. He had always been talkative and outgoing, especially around people he already knew. “So, what do you think of Flying lessons so far? I thought there’d be a bit more action,” Frederick asked, looking ahead as he spoke. But as he shared his own opinion, revealing the reason behind the question, he turned his head slightly toward Maisie.

A moment later, as they reached the practice area, the Gryffindor boy slowed his steps upon seeing the field already filled with students who had clearly had the same idea. It was good to see the place so lively and there was always room for one more. Or rather, two. Frederick barely had time to say he was ready before Maisie took off, shooting up into the afternoon sky. He let out a small laugh and swung his broom down from his shoulder, mounting it in one smooth motion. With a quick push off the ground, he lifted into the air. Once airborne, he leaned forward slightly to pick up speed, chasing after her with a grin. “Hey, wait up!”

────────────────────────────────────────────────────────
| Interacting with: @Maisie Fenwick Rose Williams |

Maisie positively beamed at him, as he seconded her suggestion of flying. She had always enjoyed running about, although it was not 'lady-like', as her mother told her over and over again. Quidditch, however, was the one sport she did not disagree with, and she spent her summers zooming in the air with her brothers. But they were older, and she very nearly always lost, no matter how hard She tried. She was glad to be friends with people her age who shared the interest in Quidditch.

The February sun was doing its best to shine on the grounds, and the snow was beginning to melt. However, the sound of boots crunching on the snow were still evident. But it was barely audible, as they began to converse. Maisie liked talking with Frederick: he was easygoing and enthusiastic about quidditch. She knew he was on the Gryffindor team, and had watched him play during the quidditch games. He was good. She agreed with his view on their flying lessons considerably. "The flying lessons are interesting, but too basic, and we hardly get to stay in the air!" To be fair, since arriving, the number of times she remained airborne on a broom for more than five minutes during their flying lessons were countable with one hand. As much as she complained about this to anyone who would listen, she did not voluntarily fly herself, as she hadn't anyone to do it, and it was meaningless to be on a broom without a purpose. That was on her part, she knew, but she was glad this afternoon came.

The grass was still very much covered with snow, and she fretted it would be too slippery. But soon they were safely in the air. Maisie had flown up first, unable to contain herself anymore, and Fred followed suit not a moment later. She turned to face him, as he moved towards her. They weren't too high, but just high enough that Maisie's stomach turned as she ordered down. The fear of falling would always be there, and she would have no choice but to deal with it. "Do you want to fly a few laps? A race maybe?" She remembered her earlier actions of pocketing an apple from lunch for later. It was big and weighted, which made Maisie reckon it'd be a good 'quaffle', or something to practice throwing. Though she passed the idea: it would have greater chance of falling down, and hitting someone.

But the idea of racing would suffice, as the training pitch was lengthy, and the weather was just right: not too cold, and with a mild wind, which she had always thought was the best weather one could wish for.

〚 •• ✎ •• 〛

| Location: Quid Training Pitch, after Flying class | Date: 12/02/26 | Word count: 361 |
────────────────────────────────────────────────────────

It didn't take long for Frederick to catch up with Maisie. In fact, only a few seconds passed before he could clearly see and hear her again, his broom rapidly closing the distance between them. As he cut through the air in an upward diagonal, moving faster than expected for the moment, the wind whistled in his ears and the world around him became a blur. It was common for Frederick to make a fast start. He enjoyed the thrill in his stomach that came with leaving the ground so quickly.

However, as soon as he noticed Maisie glancing back over her shoulder, slowing down rather than flying away from him, he realized she was about to wait for him. Fred had to slow down quickly, but with a smooth, precise movement, shifting his weight slightly to one side, Frederick managed to pull up alongside Williams, matching her pace and position before either of them risked a collision.

"Whoa, sorry about that." He turned his head and offered Maisie a sheepish smile. The boy hovered comfortably in place, both hands wrapped around the broom handle. Despite his age, Frederick had always shown a natural talent for flying, and even more so when it came to quick reflexes and evasive maneuvers. "Did I hear race? When I count to three?" he challenged his friend, his smile turning playful and eager. "We can pick a landmark as both the starting point and the finish line. How about those rickety wooden goalposts over there?" He released his broom with his right hand, keeping hold with his left as he pointed toward the three weathered hoops standing at one end of the pitch.

After receiving Maisie's approval, Buckley redirected his course, excited for the friendly competition that was about to begin. He cut through the air once more, this time at a more relaxed pace, until he reached the spot he had indicated. Drawing level with his friend again, he gave her a nod. "On three? We can count together." He asked, smiling with his eyes. His competitive spark had been lit and the excitement dancing in his bright blue eyes was impossible to miss.

────────────────────────────────────────────────────────
| Interacting with: @Maisie Fenwick Rose Williams |

Maisie, slowing down as she turned her head to see where he was, was met with him speeding towards her. In the few seconds it took for her to finally cotton on, and realize he was going to crash onto her if someone didn't move—it was too late. But Fred swerved, and he was by her side in the swish of a cloak. "Don't worry." Maisie's lips widened into a broad smile, unable to stifle it.

There was something, now suspended in the air, with one of her first friends, one of her closer friends, oddly comforting. He looked at ease on his broom, almost as if he was born flying. She had watched some of the quidditch games, and even when Gryffindor was in a match with Hufflepuff, she had always rooted for him alongside her own house. He was good on a broom, agile and smooth, which was demonstrated here.

Fred pointed at the old, wooden goalposts in the distance, which were dubbed 'finish line', and a few feet in front of them, which was to be the starting line. The two manoeuvred their brooms to the said invisible line. Maisie leaned down on her broom, copying what she'd seen broom racers do before they raced. This wasn't quite quidditch, though the ability to cover a distance on broom was certainly a skill quidditch players should have. She was, after all, on the seeker's waitlist, and when she did have a chance to play, she would need to fly at a high speed.

On Frederick's count of three, Maisie leaned as low as she could onto her broom, pelting straight for the three goals. The distance closed between her and the posts, and she urged the school broom in her head. Come on, come on, come on... She didn't think to look at Fred until then as she was too caught up in reaching the goalposts, but when she stole a glance, she realized he was speeding up, and now farther down the stretch of air between the starting line and the finishing line. She bent down even lower, pressing her whole body on the broom, feeling the rough bumps on the old wood against her clothing and her robe, which was flapping in the wind, touch her trousers at times. The wind was going their way, and Maisie could feel it pushing her forward gently. But Maisie was too slow, and couldn't catch up to Fred, much as she tried. Breathless, now on the other side of the goalposts, having crossed the finish line some eight seconds behind Fred, she said, "You won, well done!" She wasn't really disappointed that she hadn't won, though she felt a twinge of regret. If anything, she needed her breath back before she could do anything further.

〚 •• ✎ •• 〛

| Location: Quid Training Pitch, after Flying class | Date: 12/02/26 | Word count: 523 |
────────────────────────────────────────────────────────

With an imaginary starting line and finish line agreed upon between them, Frederick got ready to begin the countdown. "One..." he called out eagerly, deliberately pausing afterward. "Two..." he continued, hoping Maisie would join him aloud. Flying side by side with her, Fred shifted his gaze away from his friend and fixed it on the open stretch of sky ahead. Even without looking at her, he could sense her presence beside him. Friendly competition or not, the anticipation before the start had put him completely on alert. "Three!" He shouted the final number enthusiastically, throwing his weight forward almost at the same instant and urging his broom into a burst of speed.

From Frederick's perspective, they had taken off at exactly the same time. He couldn't tell whether counting down himself had given him the slightest advantage, but that was something they could argue about afterward. Narrowing his bright blue eyes in concentration, he focused entirely on coaxing every bit of speed from his broom. He stayed perfectly alongside Maisie's flight path, mirroring her posture almost exactly: body leaning forward, chest close to the hands gripping the broomstick in an effort to cut through the air with as little resistance as possible. He could tell she was determined to win and that only made him want victory even more. They remained neck and neck. Fred turned his head toward her, unable to stop himself from grinning. "Woohoo! Come on, Maisie!" he shouted, his voice full of excitement rather than taunting.

After such a close start, however, the race slowly began to reveal a winner. Perhaps Frederick's extra practice during Quidditch training and friendly matches made the difference. Or maybe his Comet 180 simply had a slight edge over Maisie's broom. Whatever the reason, he gradually pulled ahead, widening the gap little by little. He didn't slow down until he had crossed their imaginary finish line. "Yes!" Pumping a fist into the air, he laughed triumphantly before banking his broom into a smooth turn. A few moments later, Maisie caught up with him. His breathing was slightly heavier from the sprint, but the competitive spark quickly faded, replaced by his usual easygoing smile as he drifted back alongside her. "Thanks! You flew really well," he said sincerely. "We'll have to do a rematch another day." Judging by her expression, she seemed to be taking the loss in good spirits, which made Fred smile even more.

A brief silence followed, just long enough for his breathing to settle back to normal. "I can't remember if I've asked you this before," he said casually, hovering in place beside her. It seemed to happen every time they met; somehow, conversations with Maisie always felt effortless. Their friendship had grown naturally since the day they first met, and Fred found himself increasingly comfortable around her. "Are you thinking about trying out for the Hufflepuff Quidditch team someday?" he asked. Then, with his usual playful grin, he added, "Just so I know whether I should start giving you flying tips." A short laugh escaped him as he rested one hand casually on the broomstick, waiting to hear her answer.

────────────────────────────────────────────────────────
| Interacting with: @Maisie Fenwick Rose Williams |

"Three!" Maisie had finished the countdown with Fred, and they'd pelted towards the finish line, neck in neck. As they drifted aimlessly, still catching their breath, Fred proposed rematches another day, and Maisie seconded the idea by nodding vigorously. "Yeah! Sounds like a good idea!" Hopefully there would be some time between that match and this; she needed to practice so much in order to hopefully beat him next time. Losing wasn't bad, if company was good, but winning was great. But if she was going to really try to beat him, she ought to get a better broom, and rid herself of the spindly school broom that dug into her skin when she pressed down.

"Mmm,' She answered vaguely, 'I'm on the wait-list, for seeker, but I don't know if I'm going to be a real member anytime soon. Probably...in a few years." Maisie chuckled. To think that in her first year she placed her name down on the wait-list, and won't be a member of the team until many years later, was kind of funny to her. "More time to practice, I suppose." The girl added brightly. She knew that Frederick was on the Gryffindor team as the Keeper, having seen him play numerous times, and while she didn't know as much about Keepers as Seekers, she knew it was an equally demanding and crucial role, however different the two are. However, she would be glad of some advice and pointers from Fred.

"I'd like the tips," she laughed, shifting on the broom into a more comfortable position. "So you do training every day? And how do you go really fast on a broom?" She had seen some players—they were so fast on the brooms, sometimes she wondered if they had magically enchanted their brooms to go beyond their ability, though that wasn't allowed. Or maybe it was but skill, and skill alone, or perhaps, it was the type of broom you used. Whatever the reason, she'd really like to know.