Practice makes Perfect! PV George Henry Finished

"Stop throwing an actual tantrum," George scolded, as he saw Alma's frustration with the broom. He knew it could be annoying not to have your spells work on the first go, but stomping your feet like a toddler didn't make you any better at flying. Her choice to simply bend down and pick up the broom was rewarded with an approving nod, though George did hesitate to offer it for a moment. Picking up the broom wasn't the part that was important in Quidditch, however - if Alma got knocked off her broom, she'd likely just shatter on the pitch like an egg, so 'up' would be the least of her worries.

"Up," George said, and his Nimbus rose into his hand with a satisfying thwack against his palm as he gripped it. He swung a leg over and started to hover, brushing his thumb along one of the rainbow stickers stuck to it. Though he was sure she could at least keep ahold of her broom, he took his wand out of his robe just in case, holding it in his hand. "Right - well, first thing is first, get yourself off the ground. We'll see how well you can hover in place, that way - not something you'd see much of in broom racing, but in quidditch you sometimes need to stop and assess."

"Stop picking at that!" George snapped, as he saw her pulling a splinter off of the school broom. No wonder they always ended up looking like toothpicks after the first-years got their grubby little hands on them. George tugged up on the broom and did a little figure-eight maneuver as he watched her, beckoning her to rise from the ground of the pitch with a wave of his wand. "Then, just try doing something like this, just to get comfortable with turning, and you know, maneuvering. It's a good exercise, helps you work on your balance. You can go a little faster with it, if you're feeling brave. Just don't... smash yourself into anything yet."

George mimicked Alma's scoff. It might have been his job to be bossy in the training pitch, now, but that didn't mean he had to be professional. He did not look impressed at all with her scoffing, which nearly amounted to back talk - unacceptable for a first-year, who was undoubtedly a subordinate despite not being on his team at all. At least she dropped the splinter when she was told - she had some respect, even if she didn't show it very well.

He nodded when she started to push up off the ground and float up. It looked like it was her first time flying... and to be fair, George couldn't remember when exactly they had started flying in Flying lessons. Had she even had one yet? She must have, right? "Good!" George said, when she commented that it wasn't so bad. He gave an encouraging smile and a nod, watching her form as she moved to start turning in a figure-eight. It was sloppy, but she didn't fall off or injure herself yet, so she could at least fly long enough to throw a quaffle through a hoop.

For her efforts, she was rewarded with a big thumbs up, the boy carefully balancing himself on his broom with no hands on the stick at all. It was hard to gesture, hold your wand, and fly all at once, but he managed - feeling quite pleased with himself. Better to show off now, to keep her from getting too cocky and ending up like some of the more empty-headed Hufflepuffs that populated the sports teams.

"...Cyprian Youdle?" George repeated, furrowing his brow. Was that one of the other first-years? The name seemed familiar, but he couldn't remember any Y names at all from the sorting ceremony. He tended to stop listening closely after S, however, so it was very much possible. "I don't know them."

George circled around Alma, returning his hand to his broom and tucking his wand back in his pocket when he felt confident enough that Alma was not going to throw herself from her broom. The difference in handling was obvious, even when accounting for the difference in flying skill between the two students. School brooms were truly rubbish compared to even the cheapest of Nimbus brooms.

"Right... I think we'll have to do a couple more movement drills, just to get you used to it. You'll need to be going around the whole pitch, going after the ball, avoiding other players and the bludger... so you know, it's a lot of maneuvering, in quidditch," he said. George beckoned her to follow as he ascended further in the pitch, picking up speed and looking back over her shoulder to see how she kept up. "Okay... you've got flying pretty good... now dodge!"

Alma seemed to adjust fast to being thrown into new situations - first, she was forced onto the quidditch team, and now George was diving down upon her like a bird of prey in an attempt to force her to dodge. Of course, even if she failed, he'd try not to barrel into her full force... but he was going quite fast.

“Cyprian Youdle: the only Quidditch referee to be killed in the middle of a match,” Alma recited. She continued a little more nervously, watching George circle around her. “He was believed to be cursed by an audience member. My Ma has his chocolate frog card! I’m sure he’s mentioned in a couple Quidditch books aswell.”

As George listed all the different things one must accomplish when playing Quidditch, Alma felt herself get more and more overwhelmed. Seriously, what did she sign up for? This was not at all in her comfort zone.

She timidly followed after him, leaning forward on her broom to go faster. It was a little hard to keep up, him being the much more experienced flier, but she did pretty okay. She was honestly just impressed she hasn’t fallen off her broom yet.

“Dodge!”

Alma shouted in surprise as George came diving down on her. Caught off-guard, her fight-or-flight kicked in and she immediately ducked her head and leaned to the side. The action sent her broom sideways, successfully dodging the older student! Unfortunately, she seemed to lean too heavily, and her broom rolled over, sending her upside down and losing grip quickly.

She shrieked as her legs gave out and left her hanging onto the broom by her hands for dear life. So much for not falling off the broom.

She remembered George had his wand out earlier, most likely to catch her in this exact situation. Thinking about it made her feel a bit stupid. She could get up by herself! She looked to the other Hufflepuff and smiled shakily.

“I-I got it! I got it, sorry,” she said, taking a deep breath and not daring to look down. She pulled herself up with what upper body strength she had until she could swing one leg over the broom again. She wasn’t exactly a pro athlete, but she was decently strong, so it only took a little bit of struggle for her to get up.

When she was finally seated on her broom again, she sighed shakily and leaned forward, slightly exhausted from hoisting herself up paired with the adrenaline she got from dangling that high. Then, she realized something.

“Hey, I dodged!” she cheered.

"I suppose we're lucky we don't have an audience, then. Nobody to curse us for poor performance... except me, of course," said George, with a flash of malice in his eyes and an impish smile. Talk of chocolate frog cards reminded him that he ought to check in with Finnegan on his little business idea - either he'd be a millionaire, or much fatter and rich in only frog cards.

Then, his attack happened, and it was all or nothing for poor Alma. Looking like Dorion had in their first-year flying lesson when their broom inverted accidentally and left them hanging on for dear life. Except, that incident occurred about a foot off the ground. This one seemed significantly more dangerous... and worst of all, if she fell, it would definitely be his fault.

"You've got it!" he assured her as he fumbled to get his wand out again. Really, he suspected she didn't have it at all. Even he struggled to right himself if he went fully inverted - and with her legs now kicking around below her, he would never have been able to save himself in her position. He got out his wand and aimed it at her just in time to see her swing that one leg over the broom and twist herself right back up into sitting on it.

George blinked in surprise, staring at her - then glancing down to the ground to make sure he wasn't dreaming and Alma had not, in fact, fallen to the ground below and shattered into a million tiny, fragile pieces. He hesitantly tucked his wand away again, ensuring the handle end was poking out of his pocket in case he needed to do any life-saving.

"Oh- you did!" George said, breaking out into a proud smile. Not only had she successfully dodged his attack, she even recovered from the precarious position it put her in. George floated over on his own broom and extended a hand to offer a high-five to the younger Hufflepuff if she wanted to take it. Up close, George looked a shade paler, still in disbelief about what he'd just done. "Great job! I think you're a natural. I told you so."

George shivered and shook out his shoulders, trying to shake off the uncomfortable chill in his bones. He did a quick circle on his broom, breathing in deep and then out again. He beckoned for the girl to follow him up and out to the center of the pitch, one hand on his broom and the other on his wand as he rose up before the great rings that you needed to use to score points in Quidditch. There were three hoops which he were pretty sure all got you the same amount of points, though he wasn't entirely confident in that.

"Right, so you're a chaser... that means you'll have to toss the ball through those hoops over there," George said, pulling his wand out and pointing to indicate the hoops in question. With another flick of his wand, he looked down toward the ground, squinting as he searched for something. "Ah. Accio!"

Another flick, and up rose a quaffle from the pitch, rising into George's hand. He gave it a toss toward Alma. Unathletic as he was, he was still capable of passing a ball to a stationary target at a one meter distance. "...I don't really know how far away you're meant to be able to throw it in so... I don't know, just do something to impress me, I suppose. You'll get another high-five and we can break for snacks once you get it in."

Alma was still heaving, exhausted from the adrenaline of dangling in the air. She calmed a bit though and lit up at George’s proud smile, happy that she was able to make him pleased in spite of her previous mess-up. She reciprocated his high five, her hand smacking against his palm as she couldn’t keep down her excited smile. It faded however when she saw his unusually pale expression.

“Are you alright George? You look a little pale…” she said, drawing her hand away slowly as her expression changed from one to excitement to one of concern. She even wondered if he had a fever, a silly part of her mind telling her to put the back of her hand to his forehead.

“I promise i’m okay,” she assured, wondering if his uncomfortable exterior was caused by the accident earlier. “It was totally my fault! I should have dodged properly. You’re a fantastic teacher.”

She offered a comforting smile before floating back over to the other side of the pitch, where the three rings sat lined up in all their glory. She fumbled with the ball a tiny bit when it was thrown to her, not exactly the most coordinated person on earth.

“Well, are you easily impressed? Because otherwise, I think i’m out of luck. Hand-eye coordination is definitely my worst trait.” She glided over to the rings and gave a rather pathetic practice throw, the ball missing entirely and gravity pulling it down to the ground.

She yelped and dove down to try and catch it, barely grasping it in her hands before looking back to her mentor with a small pout. I suppose not everything can be done on the first try. She was a bit disappointed with herself in all honesty. She had always been so good at adjusting to new things, getting good at minor activities with little practice. This exercise seemed to be a struggle for her for some reason.

She flew back up, giving a few more throws, all missing. She began to get frustrated, much like she had at the beginning of the lesson with the broom. “Can we just come back to this after break? I’m not good at this one,” she complained, giving her biggest pout to George in hopes that he’d just let her skip this exercise for now.

George reached up and fussed with his hair using his wand hand, the other keeping him steady on his broom. He couldn't help but feel he was wearing his worry on his face - and Alma judged it accurately, asking about his pallor. "No, no, it's fine," George insisted, clearing his throat and taking a deep breath of the chilly air. It was so fresh this far up. The cold of it made his lungs burn. "Just, uh..." he trailed off and let her soothe him with the promise that she was fine.

When asked if he was easy to impress, he shrugged. Yes and no. It really depended on where his standards for you were. Jack rarely impressed him with broom maneuvers these days, while he would have given Jake a round of applause if he saw him go faster than the pace of a light jog. In this case, she'd need to at least get the ball through one of the hoops if she wanted him to be impressed.

"Pity I signed you up for chaser then, isn't it?" said George with a shrug. Transferring his bad luck to the new generation this time, signing her up for the role where hand-eye coordination was most important. Too bad there was no open spot for Keeper, or they could just park her in one of the hoops and call it a day. "I've seen worse flyers do better, so I wouldn't fret so much. Just, you know... do it."

Although they might have worked to encourage her to try, his motivating words would have no affect on her ability to succeed. He winced a bit as she struggled to catch the ball at all - perhaps they ought to start with a game of catch, if this was going to be the standard.

George swung his legs back and forth on the broom, letting out a long, disappointed sigh as he watched Alma throw the ball, swoop down to get it, and then toss it nowhere near the hoop again. "This is literally the entire job of the chaser, Alma, but..." he said, looking to the hoop, then back to her. "Let's try something else."

He flew close and took the ball out of her hands, swooping a few more feet away before lining up a shot at Alma. "Catch," he said, giving her some time to prepare before he tossed the ball at her. "Then back to me!" He'd keep the exercise going a bit, if he could, and increase the distance between them to gauge how far she could throw. "Try flying forward and throwing, it'll go farther."

Alma wasn’t pleased with George’s sigh of disapproval. She was already disappointed in herself for not being able to get the job done, of course the person who was literally teaching her being upset with her had to be the cherry on top of the Alma “biggest-flop-of-a-chaser” pie.

She balanced the quaffle on the end of her broom with one hand while the other reached up to rub at the bridge of her nose. She hated not being good at things, and sports was just one of those things she wasn’t good at. One of the reasons she had lost her temper with George in the great hall after he had signed her up. She also hated losing her temper, so this day was just going great.

“This is literally the entire job of a chaser…”

“Okay, well I didn’t ask to be a chaser, did I, George?” she said with way too much sass in her tone, grabbing the Quaffle from the end of her broom. She was getting frustrated and needed to calm herself down, noticing her attitude right away and immediately feeling bad.

“I-…I’m sorry! I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to get frustrated. I’ll try harder.”

She easily gave up the quaffle when he took it from her, still feeling bad about giving him attitude when he was doing her a big favor here. He tossed it to her, and this time she caught it easily. Probably because he was so close that he was basically handing it to her, only a few feet away, but no matter.

The little game of catch kept going, splitting farther and farther apart with each throw. Alma said nothing the whole time, too afraid she might snap at him again.

She took George’s suggestion into mind with her next throw, flying forward and chucking the ball hard at the older boy. He was a good distance away now, so the ball flew perfectly out of her hands straight towards him. Wether he caught it or not, she just threw a perfect throw and it made her smile.

She didn’t do her usual celebration, like she did with the last two exercises, but she did sport a proud beaming smile that lasted for a few seconds before disappearing from her face as she realized she now had to try scoring a point in the hoop again.

George gave Alma a skeptical look that suggested her attitude was not going to get her anywhere, nodding with approval when she switched to apologizing. No need to scold her for the tantrum, it seemed - she already knew just what George would have to say about that. "Right," he grumbled. "Let's see it, then..."

George easily passed the ball back and forth, impressing himself as he started to back off a bit more, to where he needed to swoop down a bit for the catch if Alma didn't get her throw right. She was improving, and so was he - there was no catching of balls in broom racing, only the rapid dodging of lethal obstacles and deadly creatures. It was much more exciting, but definitely felt a lot less sport-y. Sort of like how playing football made you an athlete, but skydiving just made you insane.

After delivering his advice, he caught a determine look in Alma's eye that suggested she was about to implement it. Positioning himself strategically, he rose up high in front of the hoop, waiting for the ball to fly toward him before deftly rolling around his broomstick to dodge the oncoming ball. He turned over his shoulder, ready for his little scheme to end perfectly - the ball would fly right through the hoop!

The quaffle impacted the edge of the hoop and began the long fall down to the grounds below, not reaching the grass before George charmed it back up into his hand with a flick of his wand and a quiet "accio." Shoulders slouched, the deflated captain floated over to Alma's side, offering the ball up to her on a wide open palm. This was it - the shot that would decide whether her chasing career would start with a triumphant cheer or a defeated snack break.

End the thread with a big finish - get it through or fail spectacularly!