Madam Poppins, Quidditch Teacher

Harry could not believe, for the life of him, that he was finally, at last, the Gryffindor Quidditch captain. Angelina's struggling through the year before was not phasing him, but he was not very excited about holding tryouts, what with five positions to be filled. He was strolling into the Great Hall for lunch when Ron nearly bowled him over.

"HARRY! We've got a big problem!"

"What? Has something happened?"

"Madam Hooch quit. Until they find a replacement teacher, there's on more Quidditch."

"WHAT! Why did she quit?"

"She's got a coaching job with the Tornadoes."

"You've got to be kidding."

"No. Dumbledore's just made the announcement."

"Are they looking for a new teacher?"

"Yeah, there's only one applicant so far, he said."

"ONE?"

"That would be great if it was Angelina."

"Or Oliver."

"No, Oliver's just been promoted. He's been made a full-time player on Puddlemere United."

"What happened to Greene?"

"Greene got hit by a jinxed bludger. It turned him inside out. He's in St. Mungo's. Got it bad."

"Uuhhh..."

"Yeah"

Harry was still hungry, so he went inside to the Great Hall, when a thought struck him.

"Professor McGonagall," he said, walking up to the staff table, "I know we don't have a teacher at the moment, but would it be alright if we went ahead and had try-outs today? We do have five positions to fill and practice well and good, after all."

"Alright Potter, I would enjoy keeping that Quidditch Cup for a third year."

"Thank you, Professor."

"Don't get your hopes up, though, Potter. We're not sure if there will be somebody to take the job."

"Thanks again, Professor!"

Harry sat at the table and bolted breakfast, then announced to the table that try-outs were still taking place.

The entire hall stared at the Gryffindor table as an outburst caused quite a few plates of food and pieces silverware to accidentally blast across the room.

"Right, try-outs, this way!"

Harry was surprised that about fifteen Gryffindors stood up and followed him out of the castle.

"How are you going to pick through all of them?"

"I don't know, but it should be good."

Among those trying out were Ginny Weasley (holding what Harry recognized as George's old broomstick, with five chain links connected to it as a tribute to the greatest ploy Hogwarts had ever seen), Dean Thomas who was not only wearing a West Ham soccer jersey (and getting many laughs) but also had his arm around Ginny's shoulders (Ron cracked his knuckles rather loudly, trying to intimidate Dean, then tried again when he didn't notice but couldn't make anymore noise), Lavender Brown (who Harry was sure had no chance of making it) and strangest of all, was Dennis Creevey, the smallest thirteen year old Harry had ever seen.

"Okay, who's trying out for what?"

"Chaser," Ginny said as he pointed his quill at her.

"Dean?"
"Beater."

"Um... I don't know you."

A second year piped up, "Trying for beater."

The boy was smaller than Dennis and Harry almost burst into laughter at the thought of him knocking himself of the broom while hitting an unmoved bludger.

"Lavender?"

"Chaser."

There were several more chaser try-outs, and a few more beater try-outs.

"Okay, everybody up? We're going to try out the Chasers first."

Harry threw the quaffle straight into the copse of broom-topped chaser try-outs. His jaw dropped.

Dennis Creevey not only had the quaffle in half a second, but he had freed himself from the fray and did a tight curve right over Harry, flying at the hoops. Ron, whose confidence and performing ability had shot up ever since he had won the Quidditch Cup the year before made a perfect grab, but Dennis had it through the hoop like he had never done anything easier.

"Creevey!" Harry yelled, "You've got the position!"

Dennis Creevey nearly fell off his broom. Colin Creevey, who was standing high in the stands with his camera, was flashing away, taking as many pictures as he could.

"Can I go?"

"No, but you can take a break."

"Thanks!"

Harry retrieved the quaffle and threw it again. Ginny knocked Lavender halfway off her broom as she made a mad snatch at the ball and tried to score. She smashed Ron's nose as it flew past him and through the ring.

"YES! Do I get the position?"

"Not yet."

"Why not? Dennis did."

"I know. I haven't seen you fly yet. Creevey pulled that of smooth as butterbeer."

"Alright, throw it again, I'll show you something you've never seen before."

"I've seen a lot of tricky moves, Gin."

He threw the quaffle. Lavender tried to make a grab for it, but Ginny kicked her hard in the ribs and grabbed it herself. Lavender was falling quickly towards the pitch bellow. Ginny did a lap around the hoops and finally threw one in, then swooped down and caught Lavender in a beautiful dive.

"Ginny! That wasn't funny," Harry screamed.

"Does she have it?" Ron asked.

"Well of course she's got it, but you'd better not pull another stunt like that!"

Dean was forced to hold back a kicking and screaming Lavender away from Ginny, and got a heavy gash across his face from one of Lavender's magically lengthened fingernails.

Lavender didn't get the last Chaser position, a third year girl named Frances Clearwater did. Lavender was furious and left immediately.

"Okay, beater try-outs?"

Andrew Kirke and Jack Sloper voiced their outrage.

"Hey, Harry! We're the beaters for the team!"

"You're going to have to try out for your position again."

"Why? Weasley doesn't."

"Well, to be perfectly honest, you two aren't very good beaters."

"WHAT! Weasley's a terrible keeper!"
"I don't recall either of you winning Gryffindor the Quidditch Cup last year!" Ron shouted, so angry that his freckles were indistinguishable from his bright red face.

"If you two don't watch it, you won't get a chance to even try out!"

Jack Sloper and Andrew Kirke were clenching their jaws. Harry took a bit of delight. The call on Ron was completely uncalled for.

"Alright! I'm letting a bludger out! You're to try one at a time to hit it at me. Sloper, you first!"

Even from the ground, Harry could tell that Jack Sloper and Andrew Kirke were donning expressions of joy.

He took off, zooming around the field. Sloper flew straight at the bludger, and hit it towards Harry who went into an incredible dive. The bludger didn't come anywhere near him.

"Kirke, you go for it."

Kirke kit the bludger at him, and at least it came within thirty feet of him.

"You --er --second year boy. Go for it."

The boy was a very good flyer and held his bat at attention. The bludger flew straight at him and he flung all of his weight behind the bat, sinking it into the bludger and making it shoot straight at Harry. Harry had to spin over on his broom to avoid getting a concussion.

"Good, very good! Dean, you next."

Dean, looking very silly in his West Ham jersey, flew around the pitch very quickly and slammed all of his momentum into the bludger. It hit Harry straight in the chest and knocked him off of his broom. Ron took off to catch him, but Dean was there first. Harry couldn't breathe and Dean gave him several hard claps on the back before his lungs would take in any air.

"Dean, you've got it. So have you --uh --second year boy."

"My name is Jamie Finch."

"Are you related to Justin Finch-Fletchley?"

"Yeah, his mum is my Aunt Sarah."

Harry, who didn't exactly need the family history, gave him a slap on the back and congratulated him. Andrew Kirke and Jack Sloper were muttering amgrily as they flew off back toward the castle.

"Alright then, let's just hope we get another teacher, then."

"Right you are," Dean said, throwing his arm around Ginny's waist and pretending not to notice Ron's vehement stare.

"Professor McGonagall, do we have a new Quidditch teacher yet," Harry asked at the end of his next Transfiguration meeting.

"In a manner of speaking," she said rather crisply. It was the same tone she had used when speaking of Professor Trelawney, which made Harry's heart sink very low.

"Oh no, she's not bad is she?"

"She has some very, very unusual methods, Potter. She is an excellent witch, but she is very eccentric. Other than her being unusual, she is an excellent person and very cheerful. I do like her, if only she wasn't so very strange!"

"What do you mean by strange?"

"Oh, I daresay you will see soon enough. Now please, transfigure Mr. Weasley back to human, he's getting those red feathers everywhere! By the way, this is really a tremendous improvement over your Transfiguration in the past. You're rightly on the way to the auror career of yours. Good for you."

Ron let out a squawk of amazement that Professor McGonagall was paying somebody a compliment!

The next morning Harry saw the new teacher at the staff table. She had a bright smile and looked exceptionally cheerful. She was very nice looking.

"Students, may I have your attention?"

Professor Dumbledore was standing up at the staff table.

"I'd like you all to meet your new Quidditch teacher, Professor Poppins."

"Please, I would prefer you just call me Mary," said Professor Poppins, standing from her seat. "I have been a professional nanny for a number of years now, and am looking forward to finally getting the teaching job I've always wanted."

"She doesn't look like any witch I've ever seen," Hermione said, looking at her clothes.

"Well, we don't usually tend to follow a particularly normal fashion, do we Hermione?"

She stared at Lavender. Lavender was very sore indeed about what had happened at the try-outs. Hermione was not particularly fond of her anyway.

"She doesn't look all that strange to me," Harry muttered to Ron, remembering what McGonagall had said.

At their next Quidditch practice, Harry was delighted to see all of his new players performing just as well as they did at try-outs. Dean was doing even better than he had before, and Harry was sure that Dennis would have to pull something extremely original out of his hat to out-do his try-out performance.

"What on earth are you all riding on? Come down here!" Professor Poppins was marching out onto the pitch.

"What is it Professor?"

"What are you all -- are those brooms?"

"Of course, what do you want us to ride on, mops?"

The team laughed.

"Of course not!"

She opened her bag and set it on the ground, then reached deep into it (it appeared to have no bottom) and pulled out several --

"UMBRELLAS?"

"Well, naturally, children."

She suddenly broke out into a grand song about playing with flying toys and being "just silly!" It was a fantastic song, but all of the players exchanged strange looks. Who the hell just breaks into song and dance in the middle of a Quidditch practice?

"Um, that was a great song and all, but nobody, not even Americans play on umbrellas. I mean, come on, who ever heard of a flying umbrella?"

"You are a very imaginative young man, but tut-tut, there's work to be done!"

She broke into another overdone song about doing work and eating sugar. Ron gave Harry an exasperated look.

"Mary Poppins, that's great and all, but we play on broomsticks!"

"Well, it's time for a bit of change. Come on now children, it will be fun! Now open your umbrellas and mount the handle."

Nobody did anything. Finally she demonstrated. The handles had been made thicker and longer, a bit like a broom-handle, but with a painful looking hook at one end.

Harry mounted the parasol and flew into the air. It felt exactly like a broomstick, but he felt very, very stupid. Even Dennis Creevey couldn't make himself look like a fantastic player on a parasol.

"What are you riding on, Potter?" The unsavory drawl of Draco Malfoy met his ears, and Harry wanted dearly to be the one to hand Malfoy his umbrella.

"Oh Malfoy, you get to ride one as well. New rules."

"Oh no I won't! When my father --"

"Who's in Azkaban, right, right..." Harry said, as though he was just stating a random fact about Lucius Malfoy.

Draco wore an even more sour look than usual.

The team did very well, but with the big bulky domed umbrella tops sticking up behind them, they felt like elephants in a glass factory.

"Professor McGonagall," Harry said the next day, "isn't there anything you can do about the broomstick situation?"

"No, just the same as she doesn't have the power to tell me to change my way of teaching Transfiguration, I don't have the power to make her change her Quidditch style."

"But she's not even using broomsticks."

"I'm afraid that the only way we could get you back on a broomstick is with a new teacher, and that is out of the question. There were no other applicants."

She started walking away. Harry was thinking very quickly.

"YOU COULD TEACH US!"

She stopped dead in her tracks. Even Harry had to laugh at the idea.

"Alright Potter, I rather would like to get myself onto a broomstick again. I'll speak to Professor Dumbledore about it."

Harry's jaw dropped.

The next Quidditch practice came around and Harry's eyes bugged out as he saw what was unmistakably Professor Minerva McGonagall riding a bucking broomstick and waving her witch's hat around like she was apart of the International Magical Rodeo.

"You've got to be kidding!"

Professor McGonagall was being as carefree as Professor Lupin had been, which was in many ways disturbing, but mostly a shocking delight. Gryffindor once again claimed the Quidditch Cup that year.