Third Year: October

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✯ CHAPTER THIRTY ✯

...And then they kissed.

October, 1993.

The quidditch season was approaching, which is something that Estella was really excited about, considering her classes so far this term had been extremely unsatisfactory; excluding defence against the dark arts and perhaps transfiguration.

A meeting was called by Oliver Wood on the very first Thursday in October, where they discussed all the tactics they would be using for the next season.

"This is our last chance -- my last chance -- to win the Quidditch Cup," he told his team, 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. Okay, so we've had the worst luck in the world -- injuries -- then the tournament getting called off last year." Oliver swallowed, as though the memory still brought a lump to his throat. "But we also know we've got the best -- ruddy -- team -- in -- the -- school," he said, punching a fist into his other hand, the old manic glint back in his eye. "We've got three superb Chasers."

He pointed at Estella and her two fellow Chasers, Angelina Johnston and Katie Bell.

"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!" Oliver rumbled, glaring at Harry with a kind of furious pride. "And me," he added as an afterthought.

"Yup," said Estella, smiling. "Our amazing keeper and team captain who has put his blood, sweat and tears into trying to get us to win. You're amazing, Olly."

"Yeah, we think you're great," said George.

"Spanking good keeper," said Fred.

"Even if you make us get up at stupid o'clock in the morning sometimes," both twins laughed together.

"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 Estella 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. . . "

Oliver spoke so dejectedly that even Fred and George looked sympathetic.

"Oliver, this year's our year," said Fred.

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

"Definitely," said Harry.

Full of determination, the team started training sessions, three evenings a week. The weather was getting colder and wetter, the nights darker, but no amount of mud, wind, or rain could tarnish Estella's wonderful vision of finally winning the huge, silver Quidditch Cup.

Estella and Harry returned to the Gryffindor common room one evening after training, cold and stiff but pleased with the way practice had gone, to find the room buzzing excitedly.

"What's happened?" Harry asked Ron and Hermione, who were sitting in two of the best chairs by the fireplace, completing some star charts for astronomy.

"First Hogsmeade weekend," said Ron, pointing at a notice that had appeared on the battered old bulletin board. "End of October. Halloween."

"Excellent," said Fred, who had followed Estella and Harry through the portrait hole. "I need to visit Zonko's. I'm nearly out of Stink Pellets."

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