Rolanda knew why, though. Professional Quidditch had been fun at first, but the pressure had taken its toll, and she knew she didn’t want to return to that arena. Instead, Rolanda had gone to see Professor Dumbledore, the newly appointed headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, to ask if she could fill the vacant Flying Instructor position on his staff.
She didn’t know what the board of governors thought of Dumbledore’s decision to appoint her. She was, after all, still young, but the headmaster was a keen Quidditch fan and was looking for someone willing to share their experience with the students, as well as referee the Quidditch matches which increasingly, these days, needed a firm hand.
He hadn’t been exaggerating about the firm hand. Tensions between the Houses were steadily rising and Quidditch seemed to be their only outlet. Not that it bothered Rolanda; she still took to the air with gusto and tried to impart a sense of fair play to the competitors.
On the fourth of September nineteen-seventy-one, Rolanda sat in the Dining Hall scanning the new first years. They looked a lively bunch “ especially at the Gryffindor table “ but she could cope with that.
“Is that the Potters’ boy?” she asked Minerva as she helped herself to a slice of lemon meringue pie.
Minerva looked rather surprised. “Yes, that’s right. Do you know the Potters?”
“Hereward Potter used to turn up at the Arrows training sessions and give us the benefit of his experience,” Rolanda mused.
“You sound,” Minerva searched for the word, “amused, Rolanda.”
“He was a very confident man,” she replied distantly as she looked across to James Potter. He was tucking into his shepherd’s pie and talking nineteen-to-the-dozen to a boy, who also had black hair. “His son seems to be of the same mould.”
Minerva pursed her lips. “And his friend,” she muttered.
Rolanda glanced again at the Gryffindor table. The two boys certainly seemed to be holding court. Some people were laughing, others seemed amused but slightly exasperated, and one girl “ a girl with dark red hair “ just carried on eating and did not pay them any attention at all.
“Who is his friend?”
“That’s the Black boy!” exclaimed Minerva. “Didn’t you know?”
“OOOH,” replied Rolanda, her eyes widening. “I had heard a rumour about a Black in your house, Minerva, but I wasn’t quite sure whether to believe it. Seems so unlikely.” She paused. “What’s he like?”
“Cocksure,” Minerva answered succinctly. She lifted her cup of tea to her lips. “You’ll find out this afternoon, I dare say.”
“Mmm, I dare say I will.” Rolanda sighed. “Tell me what does Horace think of you ‘acquiring’ one from his favourite family?”
A ghost of a smile flickered on Minerva’s face. “He hasn’t said a word, Rolanda, but then he hasn’t said anything to me at all since the Sorting.”
After lunch, Rolanda walked across the grounds of Hogwarts and towards the flat expanse of lawn where she taught the first years how to fly. The brooms were laid out in two neat rows. She knew from experience that the Slytherins would line up at one end, and the Gryffindors at the other. Her first year teaching, she had tried to mix them up, but that had led to three fistfights and left one boy with a nasty boil on his right buttock that Bellatrix Black denied all knowledge of.
She heard the sound of laughter before she saw any of the students, and peering towards the castle she saw four boys approaching. Two were in front, and she was unsurprised to see that they were James Potter and Sirius Black.
“Line up!” she barked, anxious to make an impression as a strict teacher. They needed to know she would stand no nonsense. Learning to fly could be dangerous unless the pupils listened and concentrated. Sirius Black and the other two boys lined up obediently, but James Potter walked towards her.
“You are Rolanda Hooch, aren’t you? Former Chaser for the Arrows?” he asked, as he looked up at her.
“Madam Hooch, to you, Potter,” she replied, adding in a slightly softer tone, “I am Rolanda Hooch and I was a Chaser for the Appleby Arrows.”
He nodded and turned to leave. “Thought so. My dad has some old Quidditch magazines in his study at home. You’re in one of them. Didn’t you miss an open hoop in the final against the Harpies one year? ”
Resisting the urge to hex the smirk off his face, Rolanda contented herself with the knowledge that the broom he was standing behind was one of the oldest. It also had a habit of veering to the right if you didn’t keep it under control.
The rest of the first years were arriving now, hurrying along, afraid they were late. Rolanda counted them in. She should have eighteen pupils that day, but there were two missing. She turned back to the class, glaring at Potter and Black who were surreptitiously prodding their brooms with their feet. “All right, everybody. Stand behind a broom and“”
“Sorry, we’re late,” cried a girl’s breathless voice. “I wasn’t sure where we should be going, and ... well ... I asked someone ... but he told me the wrong way.”
Rolanda turned to see her two missing pupils, noting that one was the girl with red hair that she’d seen at the Gryffindor table. She was glaring at Potter, who had a very innocent look on his face. The other was a scrawny, pallid-looking boy that Rolanda didn’t recognise. The girl was biting her lip apprehensively whereas he looked furious.
“Find a broom,” Rolanda ordered abruptly. “Stand behind it and wait for my instructions.”
She watched as the boy and girl looked for spaces together, but there were none. There was a space on one side and one on the other. Rolanda frowned and then she realised. The girl may have been a Gryffindor, but the boy was a Slytherin. He walked to the far end of the Slytherin row, whilst she found herself a space between two girls who smiled as she approached.
“Now then, stick your hand out over the broom ...” Rolanda began.
“UP!” shouted James Potter; his broom flew into his hand.
“POTTER! DID I GIVE THE ORDER TO SAY ‘UP’?” she bellowed at him.
At the sound of her commanding voice, several of the nearest brooms jumped to attention, one smacking Sirius Black “ the only pupil who wasn’t paying attention “ in the face. Blood trickled out of his nose and lip and dripped to the grass. A girl standing opposite saw the blood and her eyes rolled.
“Catch her, someone,” Rolanda barked as the girl swayed. Then she walked over to Sirius, who was gingerly touching his nose and examining the blood staining his hand with curiosity rather than horror.
“Look at me, Black,” she ordered. He lifted his head up and tried not to wince as she touched his nose. Deciding that it would do him no harm to sit out for a while, she didn't cast Episkey. “Not broken. Go and sit on that bench and pinch your nose for a few minutes.”
Turning back to the girl, who had looked as if she was about to faint, she noticed with relief that she was looking brighter. The girl with red hair was sitting with her and instructing her to keep her head between her knees. “Hmm, just what I was going to suggest. Well done, Miss ... er...”
“Evans,” the girl supplied and smiled warmly. “Lily Evans.”
“Well, Miss Evans “ Lily, I award you ten points for Gryffindor.” Lily’s face lit up with pride.
“Unfortunately, I have to deduct fifteen points from Potter for disobeying instructions,” Rolanda continued.
“B...but... but,” James spluttered. “I didn’t disobey, Madam Hooch. I just ... uh ... got there before you.” He grinned at her, a cheeky grin, and Rolanda found herself on the verge of grinning back. But she knew she had to stay firm.
“Don’t argue with me, Potter, or I’ll deduct more!” She turned back to the pupils, noticing that the Slytherins were all laughing at the Gryffindors. “Right, all of you, hand over the broomstick and say, ‘Up’.”
She loved this moment. Every year, without fail, she would glory in the delight of some children as the brooms flew into their hands. It wasn’t always the ones who could already fly (or said they could). Sometimes it would be a Muggle-born, who had never heard of Quidditch or broomsticks before arriving at Hogwarts. And then Rolanda would share their yelp of surprise and pleasure.
“Your name and House?” she asked one girl, who squealed with happiness when the broom handle hit her palm.
“Mary Macdonald,” she replied, her eyes shining with excitement. “I’m a Gryffindor.”
“Five points, Miss Macdonald.” She turned to Lily who was gazing at her broom as it flipped feebly on the grass. “Try not to sound fearful, Miss Evans. The broom can sense it, you know.”
Turning to study the Slytherins, she then ordered all the pupils to mount their brooms. She saw Sirius Black stand up, so indicated that he could now rejoin the group.
“Right,” she said at last when they were all mounted. “I shall blow my whistle “ POTTER, NOT UNTIL I GIVE THE ORDER “ and then you will all push off lightly from the ground. Keeping your broomstick steady, I would like you to hover a few feet off the ground and then drift back to earth. Go ... Now!” She glared at James, but staring back at her, he pushed off very gently, hovered and then, giving her a quick wink, he landed perfectly on the grass.
Rolanda smiled her approval, but her attention was wrenched away by the sound of a girl hooting with laughter. The pallid boy, the one who had appeared with Lily Evans, was desperately trying to keep his bucking broom under control. Rolanda held out her wand, intent on helping him, but then the broom lurched and he fell into a muddy puddle. The Gryffindors, except for Lily, all laughed; James and Sirius’ laughter was the loudest.
“You did that!” exclaimed the boy furiously. “You, Potter, did something to my broom, I saw you muttering.”
“I didn’t!” James said indignantly. “Madam Hooch, I didn’t do anything to him.” Striding forwards, he stood in front of the Slytherin boy. “Snivelly’s just rubbish, that’s all.”
“Don’t call him that!” Lily yelled as she tugged at his arm. “You’re a horrible show-off, Potter, and really, really mean. I bet you did hex his broom. It’s the sort of sneaky thing you’d do!”
“He doesn’t need me to hex his broom,” James yelled back. “He’s useless ... and ... and ... and he’s a SLYTHERIN. They’re the sneaky ones!”
There was a collective whoop from the Gryffindors at James’ words and a snarl from the Slytherins as they faced each other. Unless she acted quickly, this lesson was about to end in a lot worse than a boil on someone’s buttock.
“ENOUGH!” Rolanda bellowed. “Mr Potter, back to your place. Miss Evans, back to yours. Mr ....”
“Snivelly,” called Sirius loudly. The Gryffindors started giggling again, but quietened instantly when Rolanda glared at them.
“Your name ... please,” she said gently to the boy, who was still sitting in the puddle.
“Severus Snape,” he said coldly.
“Well, Mr Snape. Potter could not have hexed your broom unless he is prodigiously good at non-verbal spells. I believe your fall was caused by lack of experience. Don’t lose heart, though. You managed to get off the ground and that’s a good start.”
Severus Snape scowled at James and Sirius, who were smirking at him, then, picking himself up, he walked back to the end of the row, squelchy mud oozing from his shoes.
“Your boyfriend’s looking even more slimy now, Evans,” James shouted.
Glaring at him though narrowed eyes; Lily resumed her place and started muttering under her breath. Rolanda noticed that the girl who’d nearly fainted gave Lily a sympathetic smile and a squeeze on the arm. Lily smiled back gratefully and then turned determinedly to her broom.
“Let us all try again,” Rolanda called in a soothing manner. “On the count of three, one ... two ... three ...’UP’.”
She watched as they once more had mixed success, but noted, with satisfaction, that Lily Evans was sitting astride her broom and had started to hover in the air. “OH! This is fun!” she cried in excitement, and gripping the broom harder, she moved forwards.
“Excellent, Miss Evans. Now, if you would return to the ground... Miss Evans?”
However, Lily was giggling now, heady with the thrill of flying. Rolanda saw her kick out “ surely accidently “ and veer off to the side.
“Wheeee!” she squealed as she shot upwards.
“Miss Evans, come down!” Rolanda ordered.
“I don’t know how,” she replied, slightly fearfully, yet still smiling.
“Point the broom handle towards the grass. Aim where you want to land,” Rolanda instructed.
“Oy, Evans, I can see right up your robes!” yelled James. Sirius laughed along with him and started wolf whistling. The other two boys standing with them laughed nervously, but averted their eyes.
Years afterwards, Rolanda admitted to herself that she could have stopped what happened next. She could have brought Lily down herself, or diverted the broom, because she had an inkling what the girl was about to do.
But on that day, watching Lily soaring into the air and being heckled by two very annoying Gryffindor boys, Rolanda pretended she didn’t see Lily Evans deliberately point her broom in their direction.
“Oh, Mr Potter, a bloody nose for you, too,” Rolanda said soothingly. Then she turned to Lily and tried unsuccessfully to keep a straight face. “Not a bad landing, Miss Evans... at least you managed to land on something soft.”
Thursday 4th September 1991
“Oh, Helga’s knickers,” Rolanda muttered to herself as she saw a group of Gryffindors hurrying towards her and the assembled Slytherins. “It’s their son. I knew I should have retired last year.”