By Sky Alton
Match Point
“So, it’s a little like Swivenhodge?” Helen asked, craning her neck to get a better look at the various games being played.
Sky glanced at the net that had been strung the length of the great hall and tried not to sigh.
“I suppose,” she said.
She honestly couldn’t see how a game played with rackets, a net and a rubber ball compared to one played with broomsticks, a hedge and an inflated pig’s bladder but whatever helped people to understand the rules. She winced as a first year lost control of her ball for the fifth time and flung down her racket in disgust.
“And you’re disapproving of this because….?” Helen asked.
“I’m not,” Sky tried to fold her arms before remembering that she was holding a stack of spare tennis rackets to hand out to newcomers.
“I thought you wanted everyone to get more active,” Helen frowned, “Didn’t you talk to the headmaster about it?”
Sky watched a second year smack the ball across to a third year who fumbled, missed and threw it back over the net (all the while grumbling about how this wasn’t even poor man’s Quidditch).
“I know, I know. Just, for some reason, I have a bad feeling about this…”
“Stop sulking and come show me how it’s done,” Helen insisted, pulling her over to an unused stretch of the net.
“You think I know?” Sky asked.
They’d barely made it a few steps when a bright yellow tennis ball came whizzing by Helen’s right ear. Rebounding off the wall with an ominous boing, it sailed back into the centre. It did a curious swirling turn and pelted back towards a fifth year who ducked, his wand held over his head.
“No wands!” Sky yelled but it was too late.
As if inspired, everyone seemed to have their wand in their hand and was trying to direct their balls to places their opponents couldn’t possibly hit them. Unfortunately, all the opponents had the same idea.
“Run!” Helen shrieked, arms over her head to fend off the balls that were flying at them from all directions.
“Now do you see my point?” Sky yelled over the tumult.
“Look on the bright side,” Helen said as she ducked two balls that seemed determined to knock each other out of the air (or possibly knock someone’s teeth out). “At least they’re improving their wand work.”
By February Fortescue
For several years, Irma Pince had so many ideas for improvements to the Hogwarts library, and while the Headmaster seemed to agree they were excellent ideas, he kept putting off actually implementing them. Finally the Spell Designer had arrived, and while it had taken him several months to complete the needed charm on every book in the library, she had no doubt it was going to be worth it.. She was so excited! From this moment on, whenever a library book was due to be returned to the library, 1 hour before the book was due, it would let out a shriek.. If the book still had not been returned, it would return on its own, with no help required from the student. No more late books! No more books being lost! The plan was perfect.
On the surface, this may sound like a really good improvement, and Madam Pince wholeheartedly approved, but the students and professors were in an uproar! Imagine trying to study, or taking a nap, sitting in class, or having a conversation, when you suddenly hear a loud, unexpected cry out of nowhere! And that wasn’t even the worst part. There were books – and many of these were very heavy books, with some weighing over ten pounds – flying around the castle, on their way back to the library. People were continuously having to duck and dodge. Imagine turning a corner and being knocked in the forehead by a flying book! More than one student woke up in the hospital ward with a concussion!
After only 6 months of mayhem, the Spell Designer returned to Hogwarts and removed the charm, much to the disappointment of Madam Pince and the jubilation of the other staff and students. This is one improvement which definitely made things much worse!
By Maxim Trevelyan
“They’re joking, right?” Maxim’s incredulous voice carried through the Entrance Hall. While the Ravenclaw was the only one brave enough to say something out loud, he was accompanied with nods and murmurs of agreement.
“I don’t see the harm in it,” Gary shrugged, his eyes tracking the slow movements of the unexpected addition to the Hogwarts’ Grand Staircase. “Might even be fun.”
Snorting, Maxim looked at his friend in pity. “Trust me on this, I know these things,” he waved at the object of many students’ horrified, distrustful, or plain confused, looks. “They’ll be nothing but trouble,” The Ravenclaw shook his head disapprovingly and made his way to his house’s table in the Great Hall.
It seemed that the rumor that Hogwarts would exchange old and ancient staircases for sleek, modern escalators was not just a figment of a Muggleborn’s imagination. The Headmaster explained the reasoning and it was to bridge the chasm between those living in Muggle society and those in the Wizarding and to make the travel around the castle much easier, not to mention, safer.
The error in the staff’s judgment showed on Monday when all the students started their morning classes. The escalators moved very slowly, mimicking the Muggle ones, and long lines started forming at the bottom of them, causing frustration with all residents of the castle.
Students (and some staff) were being late to classes, not to mention the general disquiet at the machines from Muggleborns, as well as most of the Pureblood students (although for different reasons).
By the second week of September, the machines were gone and ordinary, magicked stairways graced the Grand Staircase again.