Eternal Despair (Harry Potter/OC)

𝟟: Mudblood

Enzo, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were eagerly planning a visit to Hagrid on Saturday morning. Their plans, however, were disrupted when Enzo and Harry were shaken awake hours earlier than expected by Oliver Wood, the enthusiastic and relentless Captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team.

"Whassamatter?" mumbled Enzo groggily, struggling to focus his bleary eyes.

"Quidditch practice!" exclaimed Wood, his voice brimming with excitement. "Come on!"

Harry squinted at the window. A thin mist hung across the pink-and-gold sky, and the morning birds were creating a cacophony outside. Now fully awake, Harry wondered how he had managed to sleep through the noise.

"Oliver," Harry croaked, his voice thick with sleep. "It's the crack of dawn."

"Exactly," Wood affirmed with a grin. He was a tall and burly sixth-year with eyes gleaming with a fervor that bordered on madness. "It's part of our new training program. Come on, grab your broom, and let's go," he added heartily. "None of the other teams have started training yet; we're going to be first off the mark this year."

Yawning and shivering slightly, Enzo and Harry climbed out of bed, fumbling around in the dim light for their Quidditch robes.

"Good," said Wood. "Meet you two on the field in fifteen minutes."

After Enzo fell asleep again, slouched over his bed, Harry had to wake him up once more. Once Harry had found his scarlet team robes and pulled on his cloak for warmth, he scribbled a note to Ron explaining where they had gone and headed down the spiral staircase to the common room with Enzo.

As they reached the portrait hole, a clatter from behind them revealed Colin Creevey dashing down the spiral staircase, his camera swinging madly around his neck and something clutched in his hand.

"It's four in the morning," Enzo grumbled, furrowing his brows.

"I heard someone saying your name on the stairs, Harry! Look what I've got here! I've had it developed, and I wanted to show you-" Colin exclaimed, breathless with excitement as he brandished a photograph under Harry's nose.

Harry looked bemusedly at the moving, black-and-white image. A miniature Lockhart was tugging hard on an arm that Harry recognized as his own. He was pleased to see that his photographic self was putting up a good fight and refusing to be dragged into view. As Harry watched, Lockhart gave up and slumped, panting, against the white edge of the picture.

"Will you sign it?" asked Colin eagerly.

"No," Harry replied flatly, glancing around to ensure the room was truly deserted. "Sorry, Colin, I'm in a hurry-Quidditch practice."

He and Enzo climbed through the portrait hole.

"Oh, wow! Wait for me! I've never watched a Quidditch game before!" Colin scrambled through the hole after them.

"It'll be really boring," Harry said quickly, but Colin ignored him, his face shining with excitement.

"You two were the youngest House players in a hundred years, weren't you? Weren't you?" Colin asked, trotting alongside them. "You must be brilliant. I've never flown. Is it easy? Is that your own broom? You two have the same model. Is that the best one there is?"

"Oh, so now I'm wide awake. It's like a personal alarm," Enzo muttered as Harry tried to figure out a way to drive Colin away.

"I don't really understand Quidditch," Colin continued breathlessly. "Is it true there are four balls? And two of them fly around trying to knock people off their brooms?"

"Yes," Harry replied heavily, resigned to explaining the complicated rules of Quidditch. "They're called Bludgers. There are two Beaters on each team who carry clubs to beat the Bludgers away from their side. Fred and George Weasley are the Gryffindor Beaters."