Post by Megan on May 24, 2006 5:14:44 GMT -5
Everybody had a weak point, Megan knew that, but it was the way that the weak points were dealt with that was important.
Instead of letting her own ruin what it was she wanted to do, the first year Gryffindor went down to the Quidditch pitch at six-thirty a.m. on a rainy Wednesday morning to practise. Not only practise, but hopefully get right.
In one hand was her borrowed school broomstick, and in the other was a Muggle football. It was around about the same weight as a Quaffle, and for now it was something she would have to make do with.
Upon reaching the pitch, Megan tightened the two braids that had been hastily tied that morning before sitting on her broomstick once more. She wasn't an experienced flyer, the Gryffindor knew that much, and really she shouldn't have been out on the pitch without someone who did know what they were doing in case she fell or the broom got out of control... but she had reasoned that unless she did this, she would never learn in time for the season to begin. Hopefully, Sylph would let her play... but if another Chaser came along who was as good as the red-headed girl from try outs, then Meg was sure the Prefect would pick them instead. You've got to do this, Megan... she whispered, looking up into the sky. It was chilly and wet, but the green-eyed girl was full of a determination that even the heaviest rainclouds wouldn't stop.
"Okay, let's go," Megan said aloud, putting one leg over the broomstick and settling herself on it. "Up!" the broom obeyed and the brunette girl tilted it upwards to the skies, the football still underneath her arm as she flew. "Let's see just what you can do," Getting used to the broom again was easy enough. Megan only wobbled a few times, but was able to regain her balance enough to push it on. But when she came to a halt a good fifty feet from the goal posts, her breathing began to quicken a little. Panic. Fear of failure. Those were the two things that began to plague her as she sat with both hands firmly on the handle of the broom, her legs working to keep her upright... Could she really get the ball through those hoops?
In a game situation, Megs wouldn't be able to sit there staring, she knew that, and so lifted the ball from under her arms and into her hands being careful to keep her balance all the while. Throwing the ball overarm, the brunette could see it falling a good thirty odd feet away from its target. "Fantastic, Megan. May as well down all hopes now..." she muttered, reaching for her wand, and casting: Accio Football.
All she could do was try again.
Instead of letting her own ruin what it was she wanted to do, the first year Gryffindor went down to the Quidditch pitch at six-thirty a.m. on a rainy Wednesday morning to practise. Not only practise, but hopefully get right.
In one hand was her borrowed school broomstick, and in the other was a Muggle football. It was around about the same weight as a Quaffle, and for now it was something she would have to make do with.
Upon reaching the pitch, Megan tightened the two braids that had been hastily tied that morning before sitting on her broomstick once more. She wasn't an experienced flyer, the Gryffindor knew that much, and really she shouldn't have been out on the pitch without someone who did know what they were doing in case she fell or the broom got out of control... but she had reasoned that unless she did this, she would never learn in time for the season to begin. Hopefully, Sylph would let her play... but if another Chaser came along who was as good as the red-headed girl from try outs, then Meg was sure the Prefect would pick them instead. You've got to do this, Megan... she whispered, looking up into the sky. It was chilly and wet, but the green-eyed girl was full of a determination that even the heaviest rainclouds wouldn't stop.
"Okay, let's go," Megan said aloud, putting one leg over the broomstick and settling herself on it. "Up!" the broom obeyed and the brunette girl tilted it upwards to the skies, the football still underneath her arm as she flew. "Let's see just what you can do," Getting used to the broom again was easy enough. Megan only wobbled a few times, but was able to regain her balance enough to push it on. But when she came to a halt a good fifty feet from the goal posts, her breathing began to quicken a little. Panic. Fear of failure. Those were the two things that began to plague her as she sat with both hands firmly on the handle of the broom, her legs working to keep her upright... Could she really get the ball through those hoops?
In a game situation, Megs wouldn't be able to sit there staring, she knew that, and so lifted the ball from under her arms and into her hands being careful to keep her balance all the while. Throwing the ball overarm, the brunette could see it falling a good thirty odd feet away from its target. "Fantastic, Megan. May as well down all hopes now..." she muttered, reaching for her wand, and casting: Accio Football.
All she could do was try again.