Your P.O.V.
Harry, Oliver and I are going to the Quidditch pitch.
The boys are carrying a trunk. Wood wont tell us what's in it. I assume it's Quidditch equipment.
At first, Wood and I were carrying the trunk but as soon as I gave the slightest sign of it being heavy, Harry rushed over and took it from me.
I did think it was annoying because I don't need Harry's chivalry, but it's really sweet when you think about it.
But why did he help me?
No personal gain, he didn't say it was a favour, in fact all he said was "Always happy to help you, (y/n)."
What in the wizarding world does that mean?
Focus! I scold myself. You need to learn right now. Figure out the enigma that is the male mind later.
The boys set the trunk on the ground and Wood opens it.
"Quidditch is easy enough to understand," says Wood. "Each team has seven players. Three chasers—that's you, (y/n)—two beaters, one keeper and a seeker. That's you, Harry. There are three kinds of balls."
Wood picks up the big red one from the trunk.
"This one's called the Quaffle. Now, the chasers handle the Quaffle and try to put it through one of those three hoops."
He gestures to the tall rings on sticks that are on opposite sides of the pitch.
"The keeper, that's me, defends the hoops. You both with me so far?"
Harry nods.
"Way ahead, actually," I say. "I borrowed Quidditch Through The Ages from the library this morning. It's actually a really interesting sport."
"I'm glad you're interested, because from what I've heard, your flying skills combined might just win us the House Cup."
"I make no promises," I say shrugging. "And Potter over here," I jerk my thumb in his direction, "thinks he's gonna get himself killed before he gets a foot in the air. Rubbish, though. He's brilliant."
Harry goes a little red and I laugh at his embarrassed expression. He clears his throat.
"Uh, what are those?" he asks, pointing at two balls straining against their chains.
"You better take these."
Wood hands each of us a small bat. I swing it once and nearly smack Harry in the face.
"Sorry," I mumble, going red.
Wood releases the ball and it goes howling through the air.
"Careful now. It's comin' back."
Harry swings at the ball with his bat and it goes flying directly between the arms of a statue on the roof of Hogwarts.
"Nice one, Harry," I say.
"Not bad, Potter. You'd make a fair beater.
"He's a bit skinny for a beater," I say plainly.
"Hey!"
"Oh, come on! It's tr— Wood duck!"
The ball comes barreling at us again and Wood catches it. He wrestles it back into its spot in the case.
"Bludger. Nasty little buggers. But the only ball I want you to worry about, Harry, is this. The Golden Snitch."
Wood hands Harry the Snitch. It's a beautifully crafted, golden, walnut sized ball, and from what I've read, it grows wings.
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𝗦𝗰𝗮𝗿-𝗖𝗿𝗼𝘀𝘀𝗲𝗱 𝗟𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘀 - 𝗬𝗲𝗮𝗿 𝗢𝗻𝗲
FanfictionYou live in an orphanage. According to the people who run it, your parents died in a car crash when you were only a year old. One day, a man comes claiming he is a Professor at a magic school called Hogwarts. He says his name is Dumbledore. What wil...
