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Post by Theo Bowre on Jul 19, 2011 0:03:07 GMT -5
Theo stood in the middle of the Hogwarts Quidditch pitch, his fists laying authoritatively on his hips as he inspected the student standing before him. The beater was an agreeable teacher and preferred to foster virgin flyers within their comfort zones. Problem was, Curse had no comfort zone. And he hardly fit in to Bowre's equipment.
When Kameren had informed Theo that he was in need of private Quidditch lessons, the Flying Instructor dropped everything to develop a curriculum for the man. Curse wanted the basics - nothing fancy - but he needed to know enough not to look like a squib in front of his students. He would need theory and practice. He would also need the tools. As Curse was abnormally tall, there was nothing suitable for him in the school's equipment stores. Bowre resorted to his own arsenal.
"You look beautiful, boyo." Theo smiled warmly at his friend. In truth, the training wear was too short and too bulky for the man: what Theo lacked in height against Curse, he scored in muscle. It made Kameren look like he was expecting a flood. And swelling.
"So first things first. We warm up. Let's take a lap around the pitch and discuss aerodynamics." Theo started for the sidelines but quickly realized that Curse was looking to try and mount his broom. "I meant running, kid. We do things the hard way."
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Post by Curse Kameren on Jul 19, 2011 3:11:20 GMT -5
Curse had made many mistakes in his life, none as bad as the mistake he made when asking Theodore Bowre to teach him to play Quidditch. Curse was an academic type; he had been in college by the time most kids were still learning to tie their shoes. He knew books, not brooms. But he had been informed that one of the things he needed to do as possible Ravenclaw Head of House was coach and attend quidditch games with the students. He had read several books cover to cover on the Wizarding sport, but it still wasn't enough. He needed something a bit more hands-on, taught to him by someone who was experienced with it. Naturally, he thought of his friend Theo. He was quickly regretting it.
"Theo, do I honestly have to wear this shite?"
"You look beautiful, boyo."
He most certainly did not. He could tell already the safety gear wasn't going to do a thing, if anything it would fall off and hinder his lanky frame even further. It was Theo's equipment, and the two men were on opposite ends of the spectrum for build. Curse had four inches on Theo, but the Beater was doubly as bulky. Actually trying to fly in the equipment would be ugly.
"So first things first. We warm up. Let's take a lap around the pitch and discuss aerodynamics."
Curse picked up the broom. Good, aerodynamics he could do. He was a physics professor, for Merlin's sake. He could calculate the movements of the balls and the players, but could he actually perform? No. But he'd give it his best shot.
"I meant running, kid. We do things the hard way."
"Oh." Curse caught up with Bowre, keeping pace with Theo as they did their round around the pitch. "So, aerodynamics?"
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Post by Theo Bowre on Jul 20, 2011 11:19:52 GMT -5
"Oh." Curse caught up with Bowre, keeping pace with Theo as they did their round around the pitch. "So, aerodynamics?"
The Flying Instructor snuck a look at his student. Curse looked utterly awkward: his bean-pole form was ramrod-straight, his knees clattered together audibly, and his long, skeletal arms - which flailed first up by his chest then down by his hips - didn't quite know what to do with themselves. He was an anorexic flying squirrel, only slightly less coordinated.
"Look, I know you're a brilliant man, boyo. Science-minded. I don't need to tell you about lift and drag and thrust and gravity. All that's very applicable - here and in the Muggle world. But we have an extra factor to consider. So you're going to have to place physics on the backburner for a wee. Gravity is an issue if you fall, but right now I want you to think of three things: thrust, drag and magic. Everything else is courage."
"The first mistake new fliers make is with thrust. They think it's all in the broom, which isn't entirely so. Thrust is as much a result of the athlete as it is with the broom. You can get brooms capable of higher velocities, but acceleration is at its best when the flier and the broom become one. Now some of the more scholarly teachers will grill you on calculating angles and the like. I'm telling you right now, it's something that can be felt. You'll know once you've reached the sweet spot and boyo, there's nothing quite like it."
"Next up is drag, oh - watch that divot." Theo pointed at a hole in the pitch and ran around it. "That's next on my list after our lesson. Had an incident with a mandrake that tried to root itself in my green. Needed a shovel." Theo waited for Curse to catch up. "Drag is nobody's friend, until you learn to use it properly. Drag can be tactical in a Quidditch setting, for example. You can use it to pitch your broom or to provide a roadblock for your opponents. Think of it like chess. Use it strategically and when the moment calls for it, strike."
"Now magic. That's nothing I have to teach you about. Knowing your skill, you'll probably become the first broomless flier in the history of Quid." Theo clapped Curse on the back and pointed to the middle of the green. "Let's pull in and get some air. Air as in flying, I mean. Though you could probably stand to breathe too. You're turning blue, Curse."
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Post by Curse Kameren on Jul 21, 2011 2:35:13 GMT -5
"Look, I know you're a brilliant man, boyo. Science-minded. I don't need to tell you about lift and drag and thrust and gravity. All that's very applicable - here and in the Muggle world. But we have an extra factor to consider. So you're going to have to place physics on the backburner for a wee. Gravity is an issue if you fall, but right now I want you to think of three things: thrust, drag and magic. Everything else is courage."
Curse could understand what Theo was talking about, but had trouble putting it into the context of Quidditch. If you took physics away from it, it looked to him like a bunch of blokes flying around a field aimlessly, like moths to a lantern. Physics was the only part that made sense to the professor. Theo's method were taking away the only leg he had to stand on. He bit his tongue through Theo's teaching, though, hoping Theo's methods could hopefully teach him this 'feeling' that Curse was apparently missing on the quidditch pitch. Somehow, he doubted it.
"Now magic. That's nothing I have to teach you about. Knowing your skill, you'll probably become the first broomless flier in the history of Quid." Well, actually, Curse could fly without a broomstick, but it was a nasty bit of dark magic and he didn't want to sound like a know-it-all bringing it up. "Air as in flying, I mean. Though you could probably stand to breathe too. You're turning blue, Curse."
"I'm... Fine," Curse said between breaths, panting heavily as he took up the broom Theo lent him. Curse knew how to hurry and how to move when he needed it, but he never ran for athletic purposes. He had never taken an interest in sports, there was so much in his academics. His mind ached for exercise, not his muscles. Smoking and his illness also kept him out of shape, but he wasn't going to complain. Theo was taking time out of his summer at Curse's request, after all. He would be a lousy friend and student if he complained. Besides, he could keep up, he assured himself.
Curse mounted the broom with a stony face. Flying was something he'd had to learn in auror training, but he hadn't touched a broom since. He hated flying. Loathed it. Even in a muggle plane, he hated being in the air. It was a bit of a phobia. Besides, broomsticks were the most idiotically-designed flying objects he could think of. It crushed parts of him he never wanted crushed. Merlin, going pro in this bloody sport must have castration as a requirement.
The broom went up as he kicked off, the professor gripping it tightly, keeping himself from falling with the sloppy jerk upwards. He was rubbish at this. "Okay, got it," He looked down, then back up at Theo. "What are the balls for?"
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Post by Theo Bowre on Jul 21, 2011 23:19:25 GMT -5
Momentarily silhouetted by the sun, Theo pitched downwards and barrell-rolled under Curse's broom, coming alongside the professor and using a hand to steady his friend's ride.
"Excellent, kid. You have some kick with that take-off. I like it! Curse, relax. You're doing great, okay? Don't strangle the shaft. Sit back on your broom a bit, release the shoulders, relax...breathe....for Merlin's sake, doyle, breathe. There you go. Now you may have noticed it can be somewhat uncomfortable for us lads. Trick is to squeeze your inner thighs and sit up slightly. Use yer adductors. Like you were riding a bloody horse. Breathe. There you go, boyo."
Theo was about to address flying as it specifically related to positions when the Potions Master jumped right to his first question
"What are the balls for?"
"Christ, your mind goes to strange places, Kameren." Theo winked, giving his lanky friend the raz. "Well, you have quaffles, bludgers and the snitch. The quaffle is the largest ball in gameplay: beloved by the chasers - that's what we call our offensive players - and utterly despised by our keepers, who protect the net. They're about this big and are red in colour. One quaffle in a match. Now bludgers...best ball in the game. There are two and they're a beater's defensive friend, although they move on their own accord: with or without our bats. Slightly smaller than a quaffle but much deadlier in terms of impact. Iron, Kameren and not something to mess with. And get this, Physics Boy: that have their own inertia. How 'bout them apples? Doesn't matter who you are, though. A bludger will hit whatever's in its path, God bless 'em. Finally, there's the golden snitch. Looks like a bloated bug and is terribly irritating to the seekers, who spend the whole friggin' match trying to find it. Worth a 150 points and usually the game."
"Now, do you want to see these 'balls,' Kameren, or do you want to learn some moves?"
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Post by Curse Kameren on Jul 23, 2011 7:28:18 GMT -5
"... Use yer adductors. Like you were riding a bloody horse. Breathe. There you go, boyo."
Curse grit his teeth, trying to get himself into a similar position "I am bloody breathing," he replied in his frustration. His tender bits were being crushed, he was doing one of his least favorite things and Theo, bless him, would not stop talking. The man was worse than Max in that respect. Curse could hardly think, he was trying so hard to process his friend's words at such a pace. Then he was told to breathe. Always, but Curse had the breathing part down. It was the only part he was managing.
"What are the balls for?"
"Christ, your mind goes to strange places, Kameren." Curse's ears turned a bit pink with embarrassment. Freudian slip, but what else was he supposed to think of when there was a broomstick being wedged up his arse? "Well, you have quaffles, bludgers and the snitch. The quaffle is the largest ball in gameplay: beloved by the chasers - that's what we call our offensive players - and utterly despised by our keepers, who protect the net. They're about this big and are red in colour. One quaffle..."
Curse listened closely to Bowre's description of the various balls that were used in gameplay; that was one of the few things he knew about, the quaffs and the bashers and whatnot. He knew the game was played on broomsticks, and that there were multiple balls in play. He hadn't the slightest on what balls did what, but Theo was enlightening him. That was really the main thing he'd wanted to learn, but Theo had blown his request a bit out of proportion. Oh well, when in Rome. He'd play along with him, he could tell at least his friend was having a good time.
"Now, do you want to see these 'balls,' Kameren, or do you want to learn some moves?"
"You're the teacher," Curse replied, still gripping his broomstick a bit too tight.
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Post by Theo Bowre on Jul 28, 2011 18:09:44 GMT -5
"You're the teacher."
He wasn't sure if it was the exasperation in Curse's voice or the painful way the man clutched his broom - like it was the crumbling rock he held over some massive precipice - but Theo could not help but wonder if his lesson in the art of Quid was not too much too soon. He had thrown Kameren head first in to a subject he was none too fond of. Then he pelted him with it. Relentlessly. It was not Theo's shinning moment in instruction and he'd have to watch that tendency before taking on his first class in the Fall.
His expression softening, Theo flew over to his friend and suggested they land.
"Let's bring it in, bauy. We'll try somethin' else." Theo led the way, his Nimbus-branded boots touching down in the immaculate emerald grass ahead of his student. He immediately accioed his wand and pointed towards a shaded area just shy of the eastern-most goal stanchions. A table and two chairs flew in to place. Theo walked with purpose across the pitch and pulled out a chair for Curse before taking a seat of his own. "Have a seat, and watch your head behind you."
A small felt bag and a game-like board buzzed the Potions Master's and landed neatly on the table top.
"Tell me what you need to know, what you want to know, and we'll go from there. What would make you comfortable as a Head of House?"
Bowre drew small, animated figurines from the navy blue satchel. There were fourteen in total - seven red and seven blue - and he quietly set them about the marked board as though he were arranging a chess match for his academic friend.
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