Our American Cousin

VIII "I Feel The Need-The Need For Speed." (1)

It was breakfast, and Hermione couldn't help but harp on what she had witnessed in Potions the day before.

"I'm serious-Snape gave another point to Gryffindor. Can you believe that? He's never given a single point to our house, and now he's up to two." Ron shook his head.

"Well Harry, I think we better get our affairs in order, 'cause that has got to be a sign of the Apocalypse." Harry nodded in agreement.

"Look, all I did was ask Goth boy about substitutions for stabilizing agents," said Sara as she sat down next to Hermione.

"Maybe he likes you."

"Nah. Did you see how he tried to put me off guard by pronouncing my name right the first day?"

"He maliciously pronounced your name correctly?"

"Yep. It's the start of a year-long pissing match. I can't wait." The conversation paused as the mail owls dropped off their morning packages. Sara wasn't expecting anything for a few days at least, and was surprised when a house elf popped up beside her, handed her a note, and popped away.

"What's the note?"

"Don't know-let's see." Sara broke open the seal. "'As a new student' blah blah blah 'please report to Madame Hooch on the Quidditch field during your first free period to demonstrate broom proficiency.' Broom proficiency? 'You may use a personal broom or borrow one from the school. Sincerely, Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress' yadda yadda yadda. So how proficient is proficient? I mean-they're not expecting me to go out for the Quidditch team, are they?" Ron paused mid chew.

"You play Quidditch?"

"No, I do not play Quidditch. I don't even play its bastard American cousin Quodpot, although I did get talked into a game of Aingingein once." Sara shuddered at the memory.

"It's okay," Hermione reassured Sara. "Madame Hooch just wants to make sure you won't fall off a broom if it comes down to it."

"Oh good. That I can do."

Sara stood at the edge of the Quidditch pitch, her broom wrapped in an elaborately decorated soft buckskin bag, complete with tassels and quillwork. Part of her really wanted to just try to blend in, but if they thought her wand was outlandish, her broom was going to just freak everyone. She headed to the woman who had been pointed out to her at breakfast as Madame Hooch. The woman had short-cropped hair and a body that didn't show any softness. Sara couldn't help but think that a gym teacher is a gym teacher the world over.

"Madame Hooch?" The woman turned around, flashing yellow eyes.

"Yes?"

"Sara Todacheenie." Sara held out her hand. "I'm here for my flight test."

"Of course. Do you need to borrow a broom?"

'Say yes,' a little voice whispered. 'Don't make a scene.'

'I can't fly a normal broom,' she growled back to the little voice.

"No, I've got my own."

"Well, let's see it." Sara loosened the drawstrings from either end of the bag gently, pulling out an odd broom. Hooch's eyes squinted then widened as she realized what she was looking at. "Is that what I think it is?" Sara nodded.

"Can you actually fly on that?" she asked.

"I learned on it. I go nuts on a normal broom."

"May I?" Hooch held out her hands. Sara laid it gently into the rough and weathered palm of the flight teacher, who turned it over several times. "I've only ever seen one, and that was in a museum. They're simply not made anymore."

"You can still get them in the States." Madam Hooch's head popped up.

"Really?" She turned the broom around a few more times. "It's slightly modified, isn't it?" Sara nodded. "May I show the students? I doubt they'll ever see one again." Sara sighed and nodded again. Hooch blew a whistle around her neck and flagged down the fliers. "These are the Seekers and Chasers for the House Quidditch teams. Best fliers in Hogwarts." Sara had picked up quickly that Quidditch was big at Hogwarts, and that the Seekers were the stars. She was somewhat relieved to see Harry, who was coming up a few paces away from a skinny blond guy that had been also pointed out to her, but Sara was damned if she could remember the guys name.

'Droco? Drano?' she thought.

"Students, I want you all to see this." The fliers gathered around. "This is an elf broom. It's called that because according to legend, the great elves flew on yarrow stocks. They're individually made with a particular flier in mind. Traditionally, the handle is made from rose vines and the bristles are of yarrow. They gradually mold themselves to the flier's body the more time they spend on it. They're very delicate and require a lot of magic to stay together. They're also usually buried with their owner, because it's nearly impossible for anyone else to fly them."

"This one's built a little different," Sara pointed out. "The bristles are tundra yarrow so they've got a little more length on them, and the handle is interwoven California blackberry wrapped in rawhide from a winged anaconda. Gives it a little more stability." One of fliers in green snorted.

"That thing actually gets off the ground?" Sara bristled. She could take being insulted, but she was rather protective of her broom. No one could convince her that it wasn't a temperamental bitch with an easily bruised ego.

"That thing is the fastest type of broom in existence."

"Yeah right. How come Seekers don't have them?"

"They're too fast for Seekers to use. The last one that tried it ended up smeared on the pitch. That was three hundred years ago."

"Well, brooms are a bit faster these days." Now it was Sara's turn to snort, as the little voice jumped up and down and yelled about not getting into a fight.

"NewMexMagic has got the fastest broom racing team in the country. And we don't use no Seeker brooms-we use these."

"You have a whole team with those?" Hooch asked in astonishment.

"Yeah-Omega Flight, and we've got five year olds that could toast any Seeker in a flat out race." This time the four at the front of the group bristled.

"That sounded like a challenge," the blond spoke up.

"Take it for what it is, Drano."

"That's Draco."

"Sure, whatever." Harry hid his laugh in a cough. He had to admit that it did sound like a challenge. Madame Hooch smiled.

"Would you be willing to race? Just as a demonstration of a rare type of broom." Sara eyed up her four opponents. Two did have top of the line Seeker brooms. Both Harry and Draco were a good 3 inches shorter, and Harry with his half-starved frame had to be at least twenty pounds lighter. The Ravenclaw Seeker did not look much older than 13, and was the smallest of the group. Then again if Madame Hooch was any example, elf brooms were far less common in England that in the States, and these boys had no clue what she could do.

"Yeah, sure. I'll race."

"Let's say one hundred points to the House that wins." Hooch had a streak in her that liked to make things interesting.

"I object." A boy in a screaming yellow robe stood up. "She's a Gryffindor.

She might throw it."

"Oh-like hell," Sara objected. "If I'm flying, I'm flying for the honour of Omega Flight and The New Mexico School of Magic, Medicine, Mysticism, and Music."

"And what do you get if you win?" Madame Hooch asked. She knew that she really shouldn't be encouraging high speed impromptu broom racing, but she realized this was probably the only time she would get to see an elf broom outside of a museum, let alone in the air.

"When I win..." Sara though for a moment. "When I win, I get to pick out the menu for one night's dinner, and I get to instruct the house elves to make sure it's right." Hooch nodded in approval. She knew she'd have to explain to Albus why Sara would get the run of the Hogwarts kitchen for one night because Hooch was sure that Sara would win. She'd been able to feel the speed and magic in the delicate-looking broom during the brief moment she held it.

The race was scheduled for right after dinner. It would be from the Quidditch pitch to the tall tree at the center of the island and back again. Every flier would have to hit the top of the tree. Flitwick had agreed to hover out there to make sure the rules were followed. Despite his small stature, Flitwick was a decent flier and wanted to see the race up close for himself. With 100 House points and dinner of unknown origins on the line, the stands and raceway were packed. On the field the Heads of the Houses conferred with Madame Hooch.

"I really can't believe you're allowing this."

"Come on Minerva-don't you have faith in your boy?"

"I have complete faith in Mr. Potter's flying ability. I just don't know if this is safe."

"Oh lighten up, Minerva. This year's gonna be hard enough as it is, and if you're so sure of Mr. Potter, care to put on a little wager?"

"I'll put ten Galleons on Miss. Todacheenie." Professor McGonagall looked sideways at Snape.

"Not backing your own boy, Severus?"

"Like Professor Hooch here, I witnessed Miss Todacheenie's practice laps at dinner."

"Well, I'll put ten Galleons on Mr. Potter."

"And it will be a pleasure to take your money Minerva." By the time the fliers entered the Quidditch pitch, the entire faculty had gotten involved in the 'friendly wagering'. Out in the stands Ginny Weasley was running a book for the students, a skill she had picked up from her older brothers Fred and George. Most of the money was split between Harry and Draco. The Hufflepuff's had little faith in their Seeker, who was the largest of the five. The Ravenclaws, while wanting to show House loyalty, were the analytical group and were calculating the odds themselves.

The racers walked onto the field with ease and confidence. The setting sun provided just enough light to see the course laid out. Sara knew that she was going to have two handicaps. One would be the turn, which would cut into her time since it would have to be a wide one, the other would be the cold and damp. High speed broom racing when it's 55 degrees out was a lot different than when it's 105 out.

The resident Hogwarts Seekers all wore their team robes. Sara had been torn between dressing aerodynamically and dressing warmly. In the end she dug out her racing outfit. It was blue and gold and similar to what speed skaters wore, leaving little of her body to the imagination. On the front was embroidered proudly "Thunderbirds". On the back was a stylized bird of prey overlapping a large omega symbol with her name above. Sara had even taken a few moments to paint her nails blue and gold, in the tradition of all the girls in Omega Flight.

Madame Hooch took a moment to explain the rules of the race. No magic, no body contact, just flying.

"Racers to your starting position." The five kicked off and hovered with the tips of their brooms lined up. Harry and the rest crouched over their brooms as if they were diving for a snitch. Sara however, seemed to almost lay down on hers. Draco looked behind to notice that she had kicked off her shoes and her bare feet were crossed over the top of her bristles.

"Go!" The five fliers took off neck to neck as the crowds cheered. Sara was in a bit of a quandary. On the one hand, she could dust all four of her opponents and get the whole school pissed at her, and on the other hand she could prove that she was not to be messed with without the hassle of zapping someone. She looked to her left to see Harry, who as far as she'd been able to deduce, probably needed a good therapist. To her other side was Draco, who from what she'd been told, needed to be beaten by someone other than Harry.

'Then again,' Sara thought to herself, 'they did insult my broom.'

"Screw it" Sara said out loud as she lowered her body flat onto her broom. Over the years, it had molded itself so that it nestled between her breasts and curved down the length of body perfectly. As the broom seemed to merge with her, Sara felt it pick up speed. She held her breath, trying to keep the burning cold from her lungs as she flew faster and faster. From the stands there was a commotion as Sara was seen pulling away from Harry and Draco, who were now tied for second. Madame Hooch smiled as she considered what she was going to do with her early Christmas bonus, care of McGonagall and Sprout.

Sara closed her eyes and just let herself fly for a moment. There was something truly free about it. Draco looked over at his longtime enemy as Sara pulled ahead. Harry had a look of shock on his face that was emphasized by the words coming out of his mouth.

"I didn't think you knew those words, Potter," Draco shouted into the wind.

"Fuck you, Malfoy," Harry shouted back. Both young men looked ahead to see Sara a good 100 meters ahead and still accelerating. "She can't turn at that speed," Harry shouted.

"We might stand a chance if she goes wide," Draco shouted back. It had stopped being about House points, and had become about the honor of Hogwarts in general. Harry also realized why those brooms were banned from the Quidditch field. It was easy enough to smear yourself on a Nimbus 2000.

Sara was worried about the turn. She knew she would have to turn wide and lose a lot of time. 'Or....' She squinted into the distance to see Professor Flitwick balanced on a rickety old broom. 'I bet these kids have never seen Top Gun.' The US Air Force had often performed training missions over her home. She had grown up watching the pilots execute fantastic high speed maneuvers. Sara gave a mental kick to her broom, picking up even more speed. Reaching out a hand, she brushed the top of the old pine, then grabbed the handle of the broom and pulled up.

Back in the stands, Minerva McGonagall was using very unladylike language as Sara executed half a barrel roll while going vertical, then leveling out. On the course, if Draco was shocked by Harry's language, he nearly fell off his broom when he heard what was coming out of little Lee's mouth, the second year Ravenclaw Seeker.

Sara let the air out of her lungs, and actually allowed herself to slow a little. In the distance she could see the light of the Quidditch pitch. She closed her eyes again and simply pointed the broom in the right direction.

A week later, Hogwarts sat down to a dinner of corn cakes, spicy tortilla soup with sour cream and guacamole, Peking duck, sushi, quesadillas, fried bananas and pad thai. There was an announcement from Dumbledore to not confuse the guacamole and wasabi, which of course someone did. Sara would smile for the rest of the year when a random dish would pop up in the middle of Hogwarts' usual medieval dinner fare as evidence that some house elf actually read the cookbooks she'd left down there.

Two weeks after the race, Madame Hooch was seen coaching the Hufflepuff team atop a Nimbus 2003.

(1) Top Gun, 1986, Jim Cash, Jack Epps