- by Captain Boulanger
- dedicated to Orville and Wilbur Wright, who flew the first powered airplane December 17, 1903.
- founders-era HP fic. Enjoy....
- Disclaimer: For entertainment purposes only. I make no claim at ownership of any characters or settings from the 'Harry Potter' novels used within.
"I can't believe you did that, Salazar." Helga huffed, staring up at the solid stone ceiling of the Great Hall, which Salazar had just sent vaulting into the heavens by magically extending the walls to a height ten times that of a man. "Now, how are we going to get up on the roof if we ever have to replace the slate?"
"I don't know." Salazar shrugged. "Don't worry about it, Rowena will come up with something. She always does."
Godric nodded, gesturing with his half-eaten chicken leg toward the far end of the hall, where the blue-clad witch was just entering.
"I've got a problem." Rowena called out, still a hundred paces away at the far end of the massive hall, which was now very palatial in its proportions. She paused long enough to walk up to the three of them before adding, "We need to come up with a way for the students to get here."
"Wagons?" Helga suggested.
"Maybe for the younger students, but, we need something else for the older ones. We simply can't keep that many horses here. Or draft animals. Or even thestrals." Rowena sighed. "What we really need is some way for them to get here on their own, without using some sort of creature to carry them."
Godric swallowed, and then asked, "Why not just give them the ability to fly while we're at it?"
Helga nodded. "Then we can send someone up on the roof if we need to replace the slate."
Rowena smiled, turned, and walked away. "Helga, could you come with me, please?"
Helga shrugged. Turning to Salazar and Godric, she said, "No fighting, please. This school's opening in nine months and I don't want to explain why half our teachers are already dead."
"Here we go." Rowena said, throwing a broom down on the ground in front of the castle's main doors. "The solution to our problem."
Salazar sneered. "I hate to tell you this, but Rowena, that's a broom. Unless our problem is a dirty floor..."
"No, just try it. I've enchanted it to fly. It should even come when it's called."
Salazar laughed. "I'll have no part of this silly business. Not when we still have textbooks to write." Gathering his green cloak around him in the cold December air, Salazar headed back inside, hardly leaving tracks in the snow.
Helga quickly shook her head. "Remember when we built the castle? I'm afraid of heights enough on the roof. I'm not going to try to fly."
Godric grinned, pushing back the hood of his fur cloak and tossing aside a chicken leg, which he'd just finished pulling the last meat off of - with his teeth. "I guess it's up to me."
Rowena nodded; Godric's rough Highlander parentage was sometimes a bit abrasive, and lately he'd been acting very much like a barbarian. It certainly wasn't something she - born in the old Roman town of Londinium, although the empire had fallen centuries before - was used to. "Well, once we can prove to those two that it works, I'm sure the young wizards and witches will be anxious to try it."
Godric nodded, pulling his wand out of his cloak and pointing it at the broom. "Wingardium Leviosa!" He pronounced, and the broom floated slowly up out of the snow, hovering about waist-high. But as soon as he lowered his wand and grabbed for the broom, it fell out of his grip and back into the snow.
Rowena couldn't help but laugh. "Goddess, Godric. It's charmed to fly already, you shouldn't need your wand."
"Righ' then." Godric grunted, tucking it back inside his cloak. Stretching his hand out above the broom, he commanded, "Leviosa!" Nothing.
"Rise!" Still nothing.
"Here!" Nothing again.
Salazar, huddled in the castle's doorway, called out, "Big dumb Godric, you've always been the stupid one. Can't you see she's just pulling your chain?"
Rowena shrugged. "I thought it'd work."
"Up!" Godric commanded, and the broom instantly shot up into his extended hand. He laughed a hearty, barbarian-sounding laugh, and Rowena cringed involuntarily; growing up in Londinium, she'd very rarely heard laughter like that.
Godric stepped over the broom, straddling it. "Now what?"
Rowena shrugged again, pushing a blowing lock of her black hair out of her eyes. "Try to make it fly."
"Flying is like jumping, isn't it?" Godric asked.
Rowena started to reply, but before she actually got anything out, Godric had run a couple steps and jumped into the air.
And he didn't come down.