Amelia Potter and the Chamber of Secrets PART 1

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he began to snore.
The first board took nearly twenty minutes to explain, but there was another board under that, and a third under that one. Harry sank into a stupor as Wood droned on and on.

'So,' said Wood, at long last, jerking Harry from a wistful fan- tasy about what he could be eating for breakfast at this very moment up at the castle, 'is that clear? Any questions?'

'I've got a question, Oliver,' said George, who had woken with a start. 'Why couldn't you have told us all this yesterday when we were awake?'

Wood wasn't pleased.

'Now, listen here, you lot,' he said, glowering at them all, 'we should have won the Quidditch Cup last year. We're easily the best team. But unfortunately, owing to circumstances beyond our control ...'

Harry shifted guiltily in his seat. He had been unconscious in the hospital wing for the final match of the previous year, mean- ing that Gryffindor had been a player short and had suffered their worst defeat in three hundred years.

Wood took a moment to regain control of himself. Their last defeat was clearly still torturing him.

'So, this year, we train harder than ever before ... OK, let's go and put our new theories into practice!' Wood shouted, seizing his broomstick and leading the way out of the changing rooms. Stiff-legged and still yawning, his team followed.

They had been in the changing room so long that the sun was up properly now, although remnants of mist hung over the grass in the stadium. As Harry walked onto the pitch, he saw Ron, Hermione, and Amelia sitting in the stands.

'Aren't you finished yet?' called Ron incredulously.

'Haven't even started,' said Harry, looking jealously at the toast and marmalade Ron and Hermione had brought out of the Great Hall. 'Wood's been teaching us new moves.'

Amelia groaned loudly in annoyance. Amelia kicked her legs up onto the bench and lay back resting her head in Hermione's lap. 

He mounted his broomstick and kicked at the ground, soaring up into the air. The cool morning air whipped his face, waking him far more effectively than Wood's long talk. It felt wonderful to be back on the Quidditch pitch. He soared right around the stadium at full speed, racing Fred and George.

'What's that funny clicking noise?' called Fred, as they hurtled around the corner.