Open Practice Makes Perfect

[Laura Zavaglia]

Laura had barely been able to kick the football when she first started AusKick. She had been about five at the time, and none of the kids could kick to save themselves, so she hadn't been anything out of the ordinary there. It had taken a lot of practice, at training and with her friends and with her uncle, but she'd become quite good at it. Last year, she'd been her team's leading goalkicker, an achievement she was extremely proud of. But it had taken time, and started with plenty of misses, just as it had for everyone starting out.

Laura had skinned her knees many times when she first learned to ride a bike. Even training wheels had not been able to prevent the initial wobbling, and removing them had added more. But that was to be expected. Every kid learning to ride a bike would inevitably fall off at some stage and take some time to get the hang of it. Some never did - you couldn't get her aunt on a bike if you paid her, apparently. A kid falling off their bike when they were learning wasn't something they ought to be ashamed of, as long as they got back up again.

And when Laura had first climbed a wall and abseiled back down, she had been pretty daunted by the height. Her feet had slipped off holds plenty of times when she started to master the climb in a way that was scary for the briefest of moments. But when she climbed, she knew she was securely harnessed and fastened to a sturdy and well tested rope, and that if she slipped she would just dangle in the air and be able to lower back down, or perhaps regain her footing and climb back up. And if she did slip, she'd just be encouraged to get up and try again, because even the best rock climbers didn't always have perfect runs and they'd been practicing for years, she was still so young and doing really well as she was.

The common link between all of these, of course, was that they were all things every able bodied person could theoretically do with practice. All of them were things that Laura was well aware of before she actually got involved with them. Anyone could kick a ball. Not just anyone could ride a broomstick. Laura had never even actually seen anyone ride a broom before, and she hadn't touched one herself until that embarrassing flying lesson. She had only known of witches flying brooms from stories, and she kind of assumed it would start off like riding a bike somehow. That was something she could do. She had amassed the scrapes and bruises of honour to prove it. But instead she had fallen at the first hurdle, because before even getting to the broom riding they had to magically activate the brooms. Laura had not been able to successfully perform a single bit of magic so far, and as everyone around her in the class immediately succeeded because they had plenty of experience, Laura felt as though she was the five year old starting out trying to kick a ball somehow in the middle of the under-17s squad. There wasn't the expectation that it would take time and that that was okay. There was instead the feeling that if she didn't get it right away, something was deeply wrong with her.

Perhaps it was. After all, she had been trying desperately to convince herself she wasn't a witch so she wouldn't have to go. The school hadn't sent her home, which she presumed meant she had to really be a witch. But if she was really a witch, she should be able to do magic, and the whole idea sent her brain around in circles and made her head ache. She thought of the girls at school who had bullied her, and not of the team at the climbing gym who hyped her up, and the dread from earlier rose back up again. The longer and longer she'd failed to bring the broom up, the more she felt like eyes were on her, probably laughing in pity or something. She knew that was not likely to be the case, but it didn't stop her from feeling like it might be.

"Okay, nobody's here now, so up," Laura commanded, swallowing down the horrible feelings. If she succeeded now, it was purely for her own benefit, not for the class she'd no doubt be marked down for. Naturally, the broom shot up into her hand, and that made Laura want to laugh in disbelief rather than celebrate. "Rude. Could've done that an hour ago. Okay..." she swung her leg over, awkwardly mounting the broom. It wasn't like a bike, and she wondered how people played a sport on these. It was kinda cool, but seemed like it would be uncomfortable after a while. She cautiously lifted one foot off the ground...then another...

...and her knees buckled as the broom fell straight back down to earth underneath her, causing her to stumble. That was the other point of difference. When she went climbing, she knew she was safe and did all the checks to make sure she wouldn't plummet straight down, so she could climb to her heart's content. On trees, she might not have had the safety gear, but she had a solid base to work with, something to grab to slow a fall. Not the case with a broom.

"Figures. You're just making fun of me 'cause I'm not actually magical, right?" she groaned, earning a zap from the wand in her pocket. She dropped the broom with a yelp, stumbling forward again and groaning. She felt somewhat at a loss, but who could she even explain her situation to? She didn't want to burden Alfred any more with her moping and confusion than she already was, and other people just didn't seem to get why anyone might not be completely thrilled about magic school. She kicked the grass underneath her, and turned back to look at the offending broom. Part of her wondered if it was acting up, like a compass that had been stored with a magnet, but she knew the problem had to be her.

 

[Knox Cooper]

Knox was feeling rather invigorated after his first ever flying lesson. He hadn't known witches and wizards could actually fly brooms like he'd seen in media growing up. Muggle media. He had to get used to thinking of his life pre-wizard reveal as his 'Muggle' life. It had only been a week, but so far Flying was by far his favorite class because they actually did something in the first lesson other than introduce themselves or learn about theory. Maybe that was a bit unfair since he was sure they'd eventually get to casting spells later in the classes, but so far Flying was the best.

He hadn't known what to expect when he attempted to summon his broom, but it definitely hadn't been a quick shot into his hand. He was so relieved and excited that his broom had cooperated right away, because part of him worried maybe his blood wasn't magical enough to perform magic. The thought of never knowing if his biological parents were wizards too or if they were Muggles only added to the endless list of questions Knox sometimes tortured himself with on lonely nights, but he tried his best not to let his thoughts stray down that path now.

Since they hadn't learned any spells in class yet, summoning his broom was his first real attempt at magic, which was probably why he felt so ecstatic at his success and the possibility of flying in the future. But that couldn't be the case for all his classmates as he saw how many of them struggled to summon theirs. Rather than those classmates, he had been hung up on those who seemed to know much more about flying than he did and had hovered a lot higher than Professor Alcott had told them they could, showing off to others. He'd even overheard them talking about flying on their free time, so Knox suddenly became intimidated, not wanting to fall behind on something he could potentially be good at.

He didn't think he was ready to just up and fly yet, but he did want to see if he could practice summoning his broom again or if it was just a fluke, beginner's luck. Hopefully he could even try hovering again, maybe even moving slightly with his feet still grazing the grass, if all went well.

As he headed towards the Pitch with one of the school brooms in hand, he could see someone from afar already on the field. From the distance he saw them easily summon the broom and he smiled, but they weren't quite so steady when they mounted their broom. Somehow this eased Knox's nervousness, knowing he wasn't about to walk up to an older, experienced student or worse, one of the showboaty kids from class who knew how to fly already. When Knox was finally within distance to make out who the other person was and call out to them, he realized he recognized her as a fellow first year Gryffindor, if only because he'd seen her in his classes. "Hey you're in my classes!" he said as a greeting, unable to recall her name.

"Alright if I practice alongside with you?" he asked with a hopeful grin. Technically the Pitch was big enough for both of them to practice on opposite ends if they truly wanted space, but he wasn't opposed to learning from her if she was more experienced and might have any tips to give him.