INNATE SKILL: Average
PRIOR EXPERIENCE: Above Average (rode regularly)
CONFIDENCE: Average

Poppy found she rather liked flying lessons, though that hadn't been overly surprising. Though she was one of the more bookish and introverted Ravenclaws, she'd also grown up in an extended family of dragon keepers. Her father had taught her how to fly not long after her first display of magic, though living in Irvingly made it so that they had to trek by foot a ways until they were no longer in the village's limits. Magic wasn't allowed in public, even in the Swallowbury district.

Fortunately, she'd received some naturally athletic genes and thought herself experienced enough. She wasn't the fastest or the most skilled, but at least she hadn't fallen off or been smacked in the nose like her classmates. She'd even tried out for the house quidditch team earlier that month.

But of course, she found herself with a group leader who insisted on going slow. Not that she blamed Hermia. Poppy had seen her on a broomstick already. What the Slytherin's idea of 'slow' actually looked like was about to be revealed. Not that Poppy zipped around recklessly, but she did enjoy heights and feeling the wind rush over her. She bit her lip and nodded politely, "Okay. I'll try not to." And she did her best to do just that (at least until she was at the front of the line.)