The sun finally decided to make a brief appearance today, and so I offered to teach Daphne how to fly (for the second time), with abysmal results, of course.
The last time that I attempted to teach Daphne to fly, we were eleven, just before our first year at Hogwarts. She knew that all of the first years had to take at least one flying course as a general requirement, and thusly came to me for help. To put it in the simplest of terms, it was an abomination. I handed her my brand new racing broom that my mum had recently acquired for me, and after climbing on, she promptly fell off, and onto me. We both ended up on the ground, until I pushed her off me to make sure my broom had not been scratched due to her utter, utter clumsiness.
I eventually convinced her to keeping trying. Apparently, a failing grade can be quite the proper motivation. Anyway, no sooner had I gotten her on the broom when she took off down the hill at an alarming speed. I don't even know how it happened. She hardly moved at all! I had to run to keep up with her.
She ended up in the top branches of the largest tree at my family estate, and I was forced to walk all the way back to Parkinson Place to find an obliging house-elf that was willing to cease it's cleaning duties, and help get her down from such an incredible height. Upon my return, she became all indignant on me, wailing on about how I didn’t assist her, and how I had just left her for death and such. It was all very messy and we ended up not speaking for days, until Daphne admitted that she was no good at flying and that she’d much rather watch me, instead.
Of course, I was willing to forgive and forget and not dwell in the past. This time, I convinced her to get up a few feet off the ground with the promise that I would be there should take another fall. When the broom continued its ascent, she panicked and jumped off. It's become clear to me that Daphne has absolutely no respect for any of my possessions.
She then became cross with me (again), claiming that I lied when I said I would catch her if she fell. First of all, she didn’t fall. She jumped off. Second of all, what I meant when I said I would be there was that I would be present to go fetch a house-elf, should she cause bodily harm to herself. I certainly didn’t mean that I would catch her. What would be the purpose? We would both likely end up on the ground (again), after all. That’s hardly a smart thing to do. I was thinking ahead. Eventually she ended up telling me to just fly by myself, so that she could sit in the shade and watch my expertise. Who am I not to indulge?
The difference between flying alone and flying with company is rather astounding, I've discovered. For instance, any time I made a particularly impressive dive or turn, Daphne would clap and cheer. So, naturally, she was clapping and cheering nonstop the entire time. Even on my Nimbus 2001, I manage to triumph. I don't understand why I never made the house team. I could have done just as well as Cho Chang!
Afterwards, Daphne informed me that she would never attempt flying again, and that it would be pointless for me to convince her otherwise. And although she will never experience the splendor of flying, at least she gets the privilege of watching the wonder that is me. That more than makes up for it, I imagine. I suppose this just goes to show you that not everyone can be blessed with the same grace, stamina, and skill that I have. A pity, really.
Come to think of it, I suspect there’s still a broom floating about outside.
( Private Message to Justin Finch-Fletchley.Collapse )