The Broomsticks
Rowena was walking down the main staircase when she heard a clattering from a nearby cupboard. Alarmed, she opened the door to investigate.
“Godric Gryffindor!” she exclaimed, clutching her chest. “What on earth are you doing in there?”
The sight that greeted her was quite something. Godric was lying precariously among a collection of brooms and mops, with one foot inside a bucket.
“Isn’t it amazing!” he exclaimed.
“It’s a broom cupboard!” she declared in astonishment.
“I know!” he said, his eyes glinting.
Godric stood up, grasping a broomstick in one hand and lovingly caressing it with the other. Rowena looked at him bewilderedly, quite sure he’d gone mad.
“Just watch!” he implored. He held it out beside him and said firmly, “Up!”
The broom hovered in the air, seemingly unsupported.
“Do all broomsticks do that?” Rowena asked, eyes wide. “Or just ours?”
Godric laughed. “It’s all the rage, Row! Some people have been doing it for years!”
“Doing what?” she cried in alarm.
He just laughed again, mounted the broomstick, and said, “This!”
He kicked off, and the broomstick shot through the air. Rowena was forced out of its way as he whizzed past her out of the doorway. Her hair flicked as he sailed past.
“That boy!” she cried.
*
Upstairs, in the Gryffindor older boys’ room, the boys were just getting ready to come down for breakfast. Perry stood beside a table, washing himself with a bowl of water. Henry lay sprawled out lazily on his bed. Fyfe was on the floor doing press-ups, rising and falling rhythmically.
Perry turned around. “What are you doing?” he asked Fyfe, confused.
Fyfe looked up. “Nothing, why?”
Perry moved closer, picking up his clothes from his bed. “Your hair,” he suddenly said, “that’s just the way Professor Gryffindor does his.”
“Is it?” Fyfe replied, his eyebrows creasing.
“Yes, it is,” Henry joined in, laughing. “Is that a beard you’re trying to grow?”
“I don’t know what you’re both trying to insinuate,” Fyfe defended himself. “I think it suits me.”
Perry, now dressed, continued teasing him. “I think someone’s got a man-crush on a certain teacher.”
He prodded a very embarrassed Fyfe, who consequently pinned Perry down on his bed. Perry retaliated by ruffling Fyfe’s hair in an act of supreme, unforgivable sabotage.
“You’ve even started sounding like him,” Henry added, sitting beside them.
“All right, all right,” Fyfe exclaimed. “I get the picture. So what if I want to be a bit more like him? He’s pretty cool, isn’t he? You can hardly talk!” He probed Perry in retaliation. “I can see you secretly hoping he’ll ask you a question in class.”
Perry lay down on the bed, sighing. “I suppose,” he groaned. Then he turned to Fyfe and asked, “What do you think it is about him? How does he give off that kind of aura?”
“No idea,” Fyfe replied.
“Do you get a bit excited when he talks to you?” Perry asked.
“Not sure about that,” Fyfe huffed. “But I wouldn’t mind exerting that kind of aura over Valda Hyde!”
Fyfe and Henry laughed. Now ready, they left and made their way down to the Great Hall. They were joined by Caedon Farringdale and his friend Benjamin Redfern in the common room. Once in the Great Hall, they sat in their usual places at the Gryffindor table. On seeing Professor Gryffindor, Perry gave Fyfe a decided nudge and a cheeky wink. Godric looked every bit his effervescent and gallant self. Food had barely appeared when, unable to contain himself, he coughed loudly to draw the room’s attention.
“Guys!” Godric called out excitedly, arms raised. “I have an announcement.”
The room fell instantly quiet.
Godric continued, “At the end of this week, we are going to hold our first-ever inter-house broomstick competition!”
He ended dramatically, though the subdued response of the students was perhaps less than he had anticipated.
“A tournament!” he said, trying to explain further. “The winning house will, of course, get lots of house points!”
There was a little more excited murmuring at this comment.
“Sir,” Aldridge asked nasally, “what is a broomstick competition?”
He did not think the idea of sweeping the corridors a particularly enthralling one.
“I’m glad you asked, Lester!” Godric replied. “There will be a number of different tasks, and the house representative who completes the tasks in the fastest time or with the most points will win!”
With great enthusiasm, he marched into a side room, retrieved a broomstick, and came back into the hall, flying. There were true gasps from the faces staring up at him as he wobbled slightly but did one great flying loop of the hall before landing again. There was a great clap from the Gryffindor table. Then he handed out a broomstick to each of the present founders and said he would share details of the tasks with them so that there would be no unfair advantage. Now the fervent conversations at the tables had reached a justified pitch. Godric plopped himself down next to Helga and Rowena and sighed with great satisfaction.
“An inter-house broomstick competition?” Helga sighed at him, exasperated.
“Yes!” Godric replied, obliviously excited.
“Yes, that’ll really help to build inter-house cooperation and unity!” she retorted.
“Oh, Helga,” he said, “lighten up. It’s just a little friendly competition; a bit of friendly rivalry. Boys need an outlet for their energies. It’ll give them something to focus their minds on.”
Rowena did not think they needed anything more than their studies to focus their minds on. But she wisely kept her mouth shut.
*
For the following days, there was a continual buzz of excited, adolescent competitiveness. Not just inter-house, but intra-house, as boys and girls vied to be chosen as their house representative. As Rowena had successfully predicted, studies took a back seat as the far more pressing matter of what the tasks would be was discussed, and most importantly of all, who would be crowned the first broomstick champion.
In the Gryffindor common room, Godric was just as excited as the students to find out who it would be, and each night he joined in animated discussions as to who the house representative should be. Though some of the younger boys would have been up for it, it was generally considered that the sacred responsibility must fall to one of the three eldest: Perry, Fyfe, or Henry. Perry was not as competitive as the other boys, but Fyfe and Henry’s sense of fairness would not allow him to bow out so self-sacrificially. In the end, Godric reasoned that the only way to decide who it would be was to have a mini-competition between the three of them. This was met with general approval, and it was decided that the next evening the mini-competition would take place.
The following day, with the remaining six Gryffindors watching, the boys tried out. They each took turns practising on a broomstick before they had to complete a task in the fastest time to be accepted as the house representative. There were nervous whisperings from the others as the three boys lined up for the race. Godric stood in front to the side, ready to commence it.
“Right, when I whistle,” Godric announced, “first round that tree, and back is the winner.”
He indicated a tree on the edge of the Forbidden Forest some distance away, and the boys each turned to him and nodded. Godric whistled, and with encouraging cheers from the Gryffindors, the boys shot off. They tried to lean in low for less air resistance and better control, but the broomsticks were slow, cumbersome, and uncomfortable. Fyfe was larger and more powerful than the others, but his weight seemed to be a hindrance in this task. Perry and Henry were leaner and more agile, and they soon edged ahead. Perry managed to take the inside as they cornered the tree. Then, there was even more cheering as he zoomed past Godric, ahead of Henry, past the finish line. All three boys landed back again next to the other Gryffindors.
“Well done, Pez!” Henry and Fyfe shouted, thumping him on the back.
The others joined in congratulating him, and Perry smiled shyly and embarrassedly.
Even Godric said, “Attaboy!” and clapped him on the shoulders.
They all strode back up the lawn to the castle, confident of victory, the two older boys with an arm around Perry.
“Anyone else,” whispered Fyfe to his two friends uncomfortably, “got a sore arse?”
The Ravenclaws had given it much thought and concluded that Valda Hyde should represent them. She was tall and thin and was the oldest, after all. It was the most interested she had been in a school activity. She was rather hoping it would mean she could solicit the attention of the boys and show herself off to her best advantage.
Salazar had not been amused in the least at receiving a broomstick from Rowena. He had continued to miss breakfasts in the Great Hall, as was his custom now. However, his competitive nature got the better of him, and he looked forward to wiping the smug smile off Godric’s face. He supposed, out of Orion, Aldridge, Osprey, and Theodore, that Aldridge was probably the most physically capable. He suspected that, if need be, he would also be the most prepared to succeed by any means necessary. When he announced his decision to the Slytherin camp, there was an audible acknowledgment of the suitability of his choice. Aldridge grinned proudly, eager to prove himself.
Helga looked at the Hufflepuffs with motherly affection. She turned to each one of them, smiling.
“Now, there can only be one representative from each house,” she said, slightly disgruntled, holding up a single finger, “which is a little exclusive, I think.” She paused, then continued more pleasantly, “But I think the fairest way for us to decide who it will be is by voting. Anyone who wishes to be a representative must put themselves forward, and we will all write on a piece of paper who we think should represent us. The person with the most votes wins. Does that sound all right?”
There was a general consensus of the merits of this idea, with head nodding, and Helga asked who would like to be put up for nomination. Faced with the task of putting themselves forward, the Hufflepuffs generally faltered. The girls, having talked amongst themselves, decided it was not for them. Some of the boys, too, were afraid of how they would look. They had heard they would have to go up against the older Gryffindor and Slytherin boys. In the end, only Hadrian Colebridge put his hand up reluctantly, and Tip Pickles, whose hand was raised firmly in the air.
“Right then,” Helga confirmed, smiling.
She handed out pieces of parchment for them to write their choices on.
“Thank you both for volunteering,” she said. “I hope neither of you is too disappointed, but only one person can represent us. I would be very proud for either of you to represent this house!”
The boys looked shyly around, happy and understanding if they weren’t picked. Soon, everyone had written a name down, and Helga collected the pieces of paper. She read them out in turn. There were three votes for Hadrian and four votes for Tip. The others applauded and congratulated Tip, who was stunned but exceedingly chuffed with himself. Now the hard work began of proving himself and justifying his house’s belief in him.
*
“Pickles!” Cackled Aldridge.
He laughed hysterically. It was the day of the broomstick competition. The school had gathered together to watch the melee in a makeshift stand Godric had built with the help of the house-elves.
“Is this a joke?” Aldridge carried on, speaking loudly to those around him, “How on earth’s he going to stay on a broom?”
“Shut it, Baldridge!” Fyfe snapped at him. “Nobody’s listening.”
“Clearly they are,” he sneered back. “Who even names their kid ‘Tip’? D’you think that’s where they found him?”
A few of the Slytherins snickered. Perry gave Osprey a stern glance, and he stopped. Orion was nearby, but he had kept silent and was unemotional as ever.
“Don’t listen to him,” Walter said to Tip, meekly.
The two small boys stood to one side. Tip grasped his broomstick in one hand and his crutch in the other. He had a resolute look on his face. Walter looked every bit as worried for his friend as was possible. He kept sneaking furtive glances at the bigger boys. The task seemed herculean to him, but then he chastised himself for his lack of faith in his friend.
“Don’t worry, Walt!” Tip replied, squeakily. “I’ll show him!”
Henry and Fyfe turned to psyche their friend Perry up too.
“Stay low, as we planned,” Henry said seriously to him, staring him in the eyes.
“And watch out for Baldridge,” Fyfe whispered in his ear. “I wouldn’t put it past him to bewitch your broom.”
“I’ve got an eye on him,” Perry replied back, nervously but buoyed by his friends’ energy, “and Orion. I wouldn’t put it past him either. He never says a word, but he keeps trying to stare me out. It’s unnerving.”
“You need to focus,” Henry said, turning his head.
The four founders were there, wrapped up. Godric was bouncing up and down. Salazar was slightly separated from the group but moved carefully over to where his house was standing.
He breathed into Aldrige’s ear, “You better win.”
There was a slight flicker of fear in Aldridge’s face for a moment as he heard a quiver of an order in Salazar’s voice, but he soon turned it into a determined grin nevertheless.
“Right! Come on then!” Godric cried, gathering the house representatives in.
Godric patted Perry on the shoulder as he moved him, and he felt a lurch in his stomach at the touch. Godric took a deep breath and explained to them, and the crowd in the stand, that there would be three tasks. The first would be a simple race. Godric had marked out a roped line for the track, and they would do a loop around it.
The four participants lined up along the start line. They all held their broomsticks between their legs, ready to kick off. Perry and Aldridge in the center, Valda on the right, and Tip on the left. Tip looked rather more normal without his stick, but still a lot smaller than the others. He gripped his broom tightly and tried to feel the balance of his uneven legs. The crowd cheered loudly for each of their house representatives. They braced themselves for the starting bell. Godric rang it. They were off. Valda and Tip were quick to accelerate, but the sheer power of Perry and Aldridge enabled them to catch up and then overtake. The boys were shoulder-to-shoulder. Aldridge barged Perry forcefully. The Gryffindors booed. Their toing and froing allowed Valda to catch up, hot on their tails. Tip was by no means out of it. He continued single-mindedly. Around the bend, Perry was ahead by a whisker. His polished and pruned broom glistened. The wind whipped through his hair as he tried to focus on his goal. Aldridge elbowed him hard in his face. The wallop left his face on fire, and he swore he could taste blood. Aldridge crept ahead, but Perry was determined the cheater wouldn’t win. Around the final bend, his nimbleness allowed him to turn more quickly. Deftly he stole into the lead, then he crossed the finish line! Followed closely by Aldridge, Valda, and finally Tip. There was rapturous applause from the Gryffindors, particularly Fyfe and Henry, who came up to ruffle Perry’s head.
Godric had to remind them it wasn’t over yet. But Perry had won the first task. The second would be more challenging. For this one, each participant would compete individually. He produced several small circular hoops. Each one was then enchanted to move about, some more quickly than others, some rotating, each at different heights. It would be the competitor's task to collect as many hoops as they could on the end of their brooms in the fastest time. It sounded simple enough. It was the doing it that was the hard part. Next, Godric produced a bag. The order in which the house crests would be drawn from it would be the order in which they would have to perform the task. A shield was removed from it. It bore the engravings of a badger.
“Tip Pickles!” Godric roared to the crowd. Then said to Tip, “Good luck!”
Tip took a deep breath, steadied himself, and when the egg timer was turned over, shot off. Flying felt incredible. He felt free. But he couldn’t allow himself to get distracted. He was in fourth place, but he wasn’t about to give up. This task was surely about dexterity. If he couldn’t do this well, what could he do well? He concentrated on looking out for the slower hoops, and soon he found the knack of sliding them onto the end of his broom while looking out for the next one. Sometimes, he had to turn deftly in the air to target the next one. He couldn’t hear the noise of the spectators or anything else, just the thudding of his heartbeat and his heavy breaths. It was a surprise to him, then, when Professor Gryffindor declared that time was over, and he had finished. He didn’t feel like he’d embarrassed himself, and by the reaction of his fellow Hufflepuffs and some of the other houses, he thought he must have done quite well.
“Twenty-two!” Godric cried, impressed, after having counted the hoops.
Next, the snake came out. Aldridge was good, but he was not nearly as graceful as Tip. Brute force was no advantage in this task. In the end, he managed fifteen hoops. Then came the Ravenclaw eagle. Valda, by this point, had lost most of her enthusiasm and determination. However, with the eyes of everyone in the school on her, she pouted and posed as she moved around the field collecting the rings, preferring to ensure she looked her best. The crowd cheered as she waved at them and blew them kisses.
“Well, er, good effort Valda,” Godric acknowledged as he rubbed his head, “a solid ten!”
That left Perry, who knew it was his turn next. Nervously, he took to flight. He was majestic. He didn’t need to worry as Valda did, as to whether he would look stupid or not. The sheer grace of his body movement, in tune with his broomstick, made him look even more beautiful. It was poetry in motion. When Godric called time he landed too, panting. Twenty hoops. He had beaten Aldridge, which was the main thing, but Tip had won the task! The Hufflepuffs went wild.
“It looks like it’s still all to play for as we enter the final task!” Godric boomed.
The third task would be the hardest. The crowd gasped as they heard what it would be. It would be a joust. Two of them would race towards each other, either side of the roped line, and would be allowed to cast a spell. The competitor who remained on their broomstick for the longest time would be declared the winner and would progress to the next round. Out of the hat, Aldridge and Tip were drawn.
“Do you suppose Tip even knows any spells to knock Baldridge off?” Fyfe asked Henry, alarmed.
Henry shrugged back, feeling nervous for him.
Tip marched to the opposite end of the rope to the one Aldridge was at. He tried to look resolved, despite the malicious look on Aldridge’s face. On Godric’s command, they launched off, racing towards each other. Tip held his quivering wand-arm out as he sailed towards Aldridge. But before he could speak an incantation, Aldridge had done so. A sharp gust of wind seemed to knock Tip flying off course. He slammed violently into the ground. The crowd gasped in horror. All except the Slytherins, of course, who cheered loudly.
“This is brutal!” Gwenda cried to Fyfe, covering her eyes, unable to watch.
Perry and Valda were up next.
“Hi, Perry!” Valda simpered to him as they walked up to the rope, “I don’t think it would take much of a spell for you to knock me off my feet,” she said, fluttering her eyelids.
“You don’t mind me attacking a girl then?” he said, concernedly, oblivious to her charms.
They parted and walked out of earshot of each other. There was indeed little competition as the two rode towards each other. Perry had fired a shot, but he could have sworn Valda had flung herself off her broomstick before it had even had a chance to hit, terrified the spell might mess her hair up.
All that remained now was for Perry’s face-off with Aldridge. With grim determination, they both scowled at each other as they walked towards the rope. Neither said a word. The crowd was completely hushed as they waited eagerly to see what the outcome would be.
On Godric’s signal, they launched off, charging at each other so fast that they had barely any time to think. Perry saw a flicker of Aldridge’s wand, and with little thought, dived around his broom, out of its way, so that he ended up riding it upside down. He righted himself as soon as possible, and at the end of the rope, he circled back round to the other side. Aldridge had reached the other end too, and was advancing towards him. Perry was determined to get a shot in. He flicked his wand. Just as Aldridge did. He felt this huge force of a spell collide with his chest and throw him completely off balance. The next thing he knew he had face-planted the floor. He was cut and grazed all over. He looked up. Aldridge was standing beside Godric, looking victorious. Before he knew it, Fyfe and Henry had come over to check he was okay. Aldridge was being cheered by the Slytherins, but not even Orion was congratulating him particularly enthusiastically.
“Well done, well done, all! Each representative has done their house proud!” Godric said, “But there can only be one winner. If my calculations are correct, I can announce that the champion is - Perry!”
There seemed such an overwhelming cry, Perry could scarcely believe it. Fyfe and Henry were hugging and cheering him. Even more people came and crowded around him and clapped him on the back. Even Godric came to shake his hand. He felt ecstatic. He went and congratulated the others too, especially Tip. Then the Gryffindors forced him to go back up with them so they could have a party in the common room. He caught Orion’s gaze, as he passed. He was still staring at him. This time the boy smiled. He thought it rather suited him.
The students marched back up to the school. There was so much frivolity, excitement, and jostling as they went. Each part of the tournament required discussion in great depth.
Towards the back of the mass was Godric. He turned around. Tip Pickles was trailing behind the rest of the group. He was moving slowly, making his way back up to the castle steadily. It seemed surprising, somehow, to see him moving so slowly, after how quickly he had been able to move in the air. Godric held back to walk alongside him.
“You were incredible,” Godric said to him, warmly.
Tip flushed and said meekly, “Thank you, Professor Gryffindor.”
Godric wanted to pick him up, put him on his shoulders, and carry him back, but he thought that might not be the best idea. After a while, Tip said he needed to have a break and for Professor Gryffindor to go on without him. Godric assured him that he would stay and wait with him. They both sat down on the grass and watched the evening darken, as they picked up blades of grass and twiddled them in their fingertips.
It was Tip that spoke first, “Riding on that broom,” he said, “it felt like I was normal, for the first time. At least as long as I can remember!”
“You are normal, Tip,” Godric assured him. “You can do anything you put your mind to.”
Tip looked up and asked genuinely, “Do you think one day I will be able to get my leg back?”
“Oh, Tip,” Godric sighed, sadly, “I’m sorry. Some things even magic can’t fix. But maybe, one day, you or someone else will be able to invent something that will help.”
Tip looked pensive before saying aloud, “Professor Gryffindor, you are my favourite teacher. I wish I had been in your house.”
Godric’s cheeks glowed red, “Think of all those stairs you’d have to climb each day!”
Tip insisted, “I could have used a broom!”
Godric grinned, “Well, I would have been very lucky to have had you in my house. It would have been my privilege. You, Tip, are without a doubt, one of the most courageous boys I’ve ever known!”
This seemed to cheer Tip up, and with a helping hand from Godric, he found the strength to carry on up towards the castle.