We stood there, facing each other. “Ravenclaw must be trying to trip us up! But we’ve trained harder than they have, you lot are brilliant, ruddy brilliant. Yeah, we’ll see who’s laughing after our match. Yes…” Oliver muttered, his eyes darting around the battlements as he did.

And I said nothing. I didn’t have the foggiest why, but I didn’t think it had anything to do with Quidditch.


As told by Felicity, Oliver, and Alicia

I’m mental. Seriously, that’s the only explanation I can come up with, because there is no other logical reason why I would be calling out for Felicity. It’s this simple: my resolutely autonomous self-conscious thought it would be a ruddy brilliant idea to ask her to speak with me. It was because everything about her, everything, derailed me.

As told by Oliver and Alicia

Professor Trelawney snapped in irritation, “I was ASKING you if, staring into the misty orb that holds the mysteries of fate itself, could FEEL the resonances of the future?”

“"Oh yes," I seized upon her implication that this damn glass ball was not a useless piece of junk, "I can. Definitely."

I was grateful when the bell finally rang.


As told by Alicia, Oliver, and Felicity

“Harry’s fine. Let’s talk about you. What’s wrong?” Oliver asked her, his voice low as he tried to lift her shoulders from the floor. She moaned in pain, and Oliver immediately lowered her to the ground again. “I’m so sorry, Felix. I thought… I thought it would help. Listen, I need to know what you were hit with. What hurts?”

As told by Oliver, Harry, and Felicity