Finding The Way {A Harry Potter FanFiction}

Chapter 24: Second Date

Hey Wattpaders!

I'm so sorry I didn't post earlier. :( I've had alot of personal things I've had to deal with in teh last few weeks, and I also got sick, and kind of hit the wall. I've been working really had on these next few chapters because one; writing is more therapeutic to me then the a shrink, and two; you guys surpassed the votes and comments I asked for!

Anyways, I'm not sure when I'll be posting next; I'm going to have a lot more homework in the next few weeks and like I said before, I have a lot of personal/family issues I have to deal with, so I'll be working as hard as I can to post as fast as I can!

But, I'm sure I can post faster if I get 25 votes and 25 comments. ;)

Enjoy the chapter!!

~Christianne

It was the next afternoon, and the tower was back to it’s original loud noise, and crowded atmosphere. The Sirius Black incident seemed only like a bad undertone now, with me and Hermione laughing as her fat ginger cat, Crookshanks, pounce on Ron again.

I did yelp however when I felt a hand on my upper arm start to drag me away from the table. I looked up and was about to scream and fight who ever it was, but I only saw the pale, irritated face of Oliver Wood.

“Well hi Olly!” I said sarcastically. “How was your holiday?”

“A bloody Firebolt-Oi! Don’t call me Olly!” He said, momentarily stopping the muttering about Harry’s broom.

“I’ll keep calling you it until you let go of me!” I hissed at him, my temper flaring a little. He frowned and loosened his grip but kept dragging me. “Where are you dragging me off to?”

“You are going to help me try and get McGonagall to see reason,” he announced, a frown set on his face.

“Why me?” I asked, yanking my arm out of his grasp, jogging to keep up with his long strides.

“Because she likes you, and –er-I may have gotten into a bit of a row with her before break over practice times.” He said sheepishly as he knocked loudly on McGonagall’s office door. “Apparently, four o’clock in the morning is-” he turned on a heel to face me, back to the door and did a poor imitation of McGonagall’s voice. “-far to early to have students flying around on broomsticks Wood. They could fly into the bleachers!”

“I hope you don’t want something Mr. Wood,” McGonagall said, taking off her small wire framed glasses, and crossing her arms and the embarrassed seventh year.

“Actually, I wanted-we wanted to talk to you about Harry’s broomstick,” Oliver said, yanking me forward. I glared at him and crossed my arms, blowing my bangs out of my eyes.

“Ah, the Firebolt,” she sighed, going back to sit behind her desk.

“A Firebolt? Really?” Oliver said, pretending to be surprised. “Bloody hell, how’d he get one of those-”

“God you’re a bad liar,” I said looking up at him, making him glare at me and McGonagall chuckle.

“Ok, ok, why’d you take it?” he asked, completely outraged at the professor. “Do you know how good that broom is?”

“Yes, Mr. Wood, I do,” she answered him calmly.

“And do you know how much this could help us? The Gryiffendor Quidditch team that hasn’t won the Cup in eight years?” He asked, you’d think he was pleading for his life with how he was speaking to McGonagall.