Percy Jackson and Harry Potter. Halfblood heroes (Book 3)

Chapter 5

In no time at all, Defense Against the Dark Arts had become most people's favourite class. Only Draco Malfoy and his gangof Slytherins had anything bad to say about Professor Lupin.

 "Look at the state of his robes," Malfoy would say in a loudwhisper as Professor Lupin passed. "He dresses like our old house-elf." 

But no one else cared that Professor Lupin's robes were patched andfrayed. His next few lessons were just as interesting as the first. Afterboggarts, they studied Red Caps, nasty little goblinlike creatures thatlurked wherever there had been bloodshed: in the dungeons of castlesand the potholes of deserted battlefields, waiting to bludgeon thosewho had gotten lost, From Red Caps they moved on to kappas,creepy water-dwellers that looked like scaly monkeys, with webbedhands itching to strangle unwitting waders in their ponds. 

But the worst was potions were Snape. Thestory of the boggart assuming Snape's shape, and the way thatNeville had dressed it in his grandmother's clothes, had travelledthrough the school like wildfire. Snape didn't seem to find it funny.His eyes flashed menacingly at the very mention of ProfessorLupin's name, and he was bullying Neville worse than ever.

Nobody really liked Care of Magical Creatures, which, after theaction-packed first class, had become extremely dull. Hagridseemed to have lost his confidence. They were now spending lesson after lesson learning how to look after flobberworms, which had tobe some of the most boring creatures in existence.

 "Why would anyone bother looking after them?" said Ron, afteryet another hour of poking shredded lettuce down the flobberworms' slimy throats. 

At the start of October, The Quidditch season was approaching, and Oliver Wood, Captain of the Gryffindor team, called a meeting on Thursday evening to discuss tactics for the new season. 

Oliver Wood was a burly seventeen-year-old, now in his final year at Hogwarts. There was a quiet desperation in his voice as he addressed his six fellow team members in the locker rooms on the edge of the darkening Quidditch field.

"This is our last chance — my last chance — to win the Quidditch Cup," he told them, striding up and down in front of them."I'll be leaving at the end of this year. I'll never get another shot at it.

"Gryffindor hasn't won for seven years now. Injuries — then the tournament getting called off last year. . . ." Wood swallowed, "But we also know we've got the best — ruddy — team — in — the — school," he said, punching a fist into his other hand, the same manic glint back in his eye Percy saw every year.

"We've got three superb Chasers."Wood pointed at Alicia Spinnet, Angelina Johnson, and Percy Jackson.

"We've got two unbeatable Beaters."

"Stop it, Oliver, you're embarrassing us," said Fred and George Weasley together, pretending to blush.

"And we've got a Seeker who has never failed to win us a match!"Wood rumbled, glaring at Harry with a kind of furious pride. "And me," he added as an afterthought.

"We think you're very good too, Oliver," said George.

"Spanking good Keeper," said Fred.

"The point is," Wood went on, resuming his pacing, "the Quidditch Cup should have had our name on it these last two years. Ever since Harry and Percy joined the team, I've thought the thing was in the bag. But we haven't got it, and this year's the last chance we'll get to finally see our name on the thing. . . ."

Wood spoke so dejectedly that even Fred and George looked sympathetic." Oliver, this year's our year," said Fred.

"We'll do it, Oliver!" said Angelina.