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Fledgling
#1
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March 15th, 1890 — Padmore Park, Hogsmeade

Ever since Arnold Whittier's elder brother had offered to teach them to fly, Billie and Arnie had been spending nearly every day practicing in the park. With the news of the Quidditch World Cup approaching in the summer, they'd started to pretend as if they were players, which was rather interesting with only one broomstick. The other person had to dart about on foot.

The other difficult part was that the broom in question had an annoying habit of veering slightly to the left or jolting suddenly. It was really quite ancient; the twigs that made up the tail stuck out in every direction. The seat was also so worn that it was impossible to figure out what model it had even been. Arnie's brother had long since purchased a newer broomstick for himself.

After a good hour of weaving around trees and giggling like fools, Arnie grew distracted by one of his younger siblings and wandered off to deal with their shenanigans. Billie was left to continue blissfully making laps until Arnie needed to return home.

With a wide, almost reckless grin, she sped up over the top of the tree and then started dive down, back toward the ground, intent on veering around a park bench. However, the broomstick had other ideas, and she was tugged to the left, headed for someone lingering near by.

"WATCH OUT!" She hollered, eyes wide, unable to coax the broomstick in another direction. Of all the times for it to act up.

Open to someone who preferably is good a flying or plays quidditch and happens to be in Hogsmeade. (It's also a Hogsmeade weekend.)


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#2
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She'd managed to talk her friends into stopping at the park for the remainder of their time out of school. They had nothing else they had wanted to get done but they didn't particularly want to go back to the castle either. The park was a peaceful alternative - or was, until a kid on a broom (or what was serving as a broom being it looked like it should have fallen apart years ago) came careening into her.

Next she new she was face up to the sky, blinking away the black spots creeping into her vision. No it wasn't the first time she'd been knocked over by a broom or off, nor the worse time, but she'd still be sore tomorrow. "Urggggg," Calla moaned, pushing herself off the ground, looking around.

"Are you okay?"


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#3
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As she collided with the poor older girl, Billie tumbled her way off the broomstick almost as if she were an alligator doing a death roll. The broom ended up stuck in a bush, and she was sprawled out in the dirt. She was never going to become the world's next greatest quidditch player at this rate. Maybe she could save up for a broom of her own. How much did one cost, anyways?

The thoughts swirled about her head and were only interrupted by the voice of the poor soul she'd plowed over. Sitting up, she gave Calla a crooked grin, "Yeah, I'm okay. Are you okay?" Still a bit wobbily, she climbed onto her feet. "I'm real sorry. I didn't mean to fly into you. This dang broom has a mind of its own sometimes. I dunno why it likes to go where it wants!"

Scuttling over to Calla, she reached a grubby hand down, offering to help her back onto her feet.


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#4
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She took the kid's offer of a hand up though admittedly she was a bit worried that their size difference would prove too much. When that proved not to be the case she shook herself out, much like a cat would after a fall, evaluating herself. Feeling nothing that felt wrong - only bound to be a little sore the next day, she shook her head. "Ah, no worries, I'm fine. You hit nowhere near as hard as a buldger."

Glancing over, she moved to pull the broom out of the bushes, giving it a hard yank and nearly tumbling back down to the ground with the force. "Yeah, brooms are temperamental sometimes and they have a mind of their own. This one looks pretty old and beaten up - I'm surprised you even got it off the ground. It is probably throwing a temper tantrum at the state it has been left in." She shrugged, not meaning anything personally by her statement but her own broom was the same. Admittedly much newer - she had gotten it the winter break of her first year determined that if she was to play on the house team she needed her own broom. The school ones were fine if you just wanted to fly around, but they were junk on a pitch. But still, if she didn't keep it up - especially after a game - it often was ill-behaved the next time she went to ride.

"That or the spells have started to go off. It is old. Ahh, I am Calla, are you teaching yourself to fly?"


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#5
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Billie appeared as if she struggled a good deal helping Calla up, but she was altogether successful.  She was fairly solid for someone of her middling size, and she knew how to use her low center of gravity to her advantage.

"A bludger?" She questioned, eyes lighting up. "Have you been hit by a real bludger, then?"

She stood, watching as Calla removed the broom from the bushes, eagerly listening to everything she had to say. Flying was her new favorite topic of conversation. "I ai--I'm not sure how to take care of it. It isn't mine. It's my friend's brother's old broom. He said it was someone else's before it even got to him!" She had a sneaking suspicion it might even be older than Gideon, and that was saying something.

"Yes! Arnie's brother sort of taught us a little bit, and now we're teaching ourselves. Arnie had to go somewhere, though, so he said I could use it and bring it back. I'm trying to get real good so I can show Gideon." She was also eagerly darting about town and raising money for her own broomstick.

She paused, realizing Calla had introduced herself, and she hadn't responded to that before starting to ramble on about brooms. "Nice to meet you. I'm Billie."


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#6
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"Thanks!" Half heartedly, she brushed the loose dirt off her skirts, not really all that worried about it. It would fall off with time or the housekeeper would scold her for the millionth time.

"Mhh, yeah." She nodded, a little confused why she would be so awestruck about being hit by one of those nasty things. "I play on my house team at school. I am one of the chasers. And trust me, don't look so jealous. Those suckers hurt. I've been sent to the hospital wing more times than I care to admit. They sure leave a nasty bruise even if nothing breaks."

"I can show you a few things if you like, we can go to Quality Quidditch Supplies and go over what you would want, even if just the basics. They might even be willing to check the spells for you. Still, it would be better if you practiced with someone in the future - or at least had someone nearby. Flying can be dangerous. It gets to be a long way to fall. What if that fall had actually hurt you and no one had been here?"

That was the thing about Calla, she wouldn't tell you not to do something, she just would insist upon doing it safely. Probably the Hufflepuff in her. Badgers were supposedly very protective. She'd never actually met a badger before let alone tested that so she couldn't say for sure but it sounded right.

"Nice to meet you, Billie."


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#7
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Billie wasn't jealous about the bludgers. She was jealous that Calla played quidditch on a team! All her and the village children did was dart about pretending. It didn't help that many of them didn't have broomsticks, or they rode on ones that were shared or so ancient they were more like a death trap.

"A chaser! What house team are you on? Is your team really good? Do you score a lot?" The wondering questions popped out of her so quickly that she left the young Hufflepuff with barely a moment to process, not to mention answer.

Standing up a bit straighter, a look of disbelief grew on her face. They'd just met and this girl was willing to show her what quidditch supplies and broomsticks were any good. Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, Billie quickly accepted, "Okay, sure! I've been saving up for my very own broomstick. I'm nearly there. I'll even let Arnie use it."

The kid lifted her shoulders slightly at Calla's insistence that she shouldn't fly alone. Normally, it was two of them, but she was much more enthusiastic than her friend. She always wanted to keep going. "The park is always full of people. I think someone might have seen me." She wasn't terribly worried. Though, that spoke more to her age than anything else.


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