Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
THE NEXT few days were uneventful.
After the eventful Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson, Emmalina didn't really need more drama. Lessons passed in a blur, and she couldn't help but feel sorry for Ron as his wand was still malfunctioning, surpassing itself on Friday morning by shooting out of Ron's hand in Charms and hitting tiny old Professor Flitwick squarely between the eyes, creating a large, throbbing green boil where it had struck.
She didn't feel sorry to laugh at Ron's face, who could only shoot her a glare.
"Where's Harry?" Emmalina wondered, sitting in the Great Hall one weekend.
"Oliver's taken them for practice," Ron told her, as he chewed on a piece of toast.
Emmalina scrunched her face in distaste, grabbing breakfast for herself. "Isn't it a bit early for practice? And what about breakfast?"
"It's never too early for Oliver, Em."
"I swear Oliver thinks his teammates are machines or something," Emmalina muttered with an eyeroll.
"You and your Oliver hate," Hermione sighed.
"I do not hate Oliver, Hermione. I just . . . mildly dislike him."
"Is that why your face scrunches up like that, and you narrow your eyes like he's the slimest git you have ever seen?" Ron questioned, quirking an eyebrow.
"Please, that look is only reserved for Malfoy," Emmalina said dramatically, flicking her hair behind her ear.
"Do not make me barf on a weekend," Parvati spoke up, her distaste clear.
"We should go to see them practice. We can bring Harry some food," Hermione suggested. Ron and Emmalina nodded in agreement and stood up, taking a bit of time to gather food.
"Later, Parvati," Emmalina said. Parvati nodded back at her.
They left the castle, walking through the dew-drenched grass. The sun was up, although remnants of mist hung over the grass in the stadium. Chilly winds drifted in the air, pebbling their skin.
Just as they took their seats in the stands, the Gryfindor team walked out onto the pitch.
'Aren't you finished yet?' called Ron incredulously.
'Haven't even started,' said Harry, looking jealously at the toast and marmalade the three had brought. 'Wood's been teaching us new moves.'
"It's for you, Harry, no need to look so green." Emmalina teased.
"Who knows when I'll get to eat," Harry muttered bitterly.
Emmalina's eyes narrowed distastefully, eyeing the back of Wood's head.
