'Okay, everyone. Listen up,' Oliver Wood began. 'This is it. The big match. The one we've trained hard for. The first match of the World Cup. We have to win.'
'Hear, hear!' chorused the English Quidditch team.
Since Wood had made the English team, England had won the Quidditch World Cup four times in a row.
'Let's break some bones!' yelled a blond man. Wood glared at him.
'What are you waiting for? My command? Let's go and crush Bulgaria!' Wood roared. This was greeted with cheers and woops.
The team began to exit the changing room, and onto the pitch.
Except for a youngish man sitting in the very corner of the room. He alone had stayed silent for the entire speech. Wood crossed the room and sat down beside him.
'What if I can't catch the Snitch? What if we lose because of me?' he whispered.
'But you won't, mate,' Wood said. 'You're easily the best Seeker in the world, Harry.'
The man called Harry still looked doubtful, and Wood laughed.
'Always the pessimist, eh?' Wood said.
Harry shrugged. 'Some things never change.'
'I'll tell you what doesn't change. Harry James Potter, you are a living legend, best Seeker Puddlemere United has ever seen. Ever since you joined, Puddlemere United has won the League 6 times in a row. Also, at Hogwarts you were the youngest Seeker in about a century. A century. That's no small task,' Wood finished.
Harry gave a faint smile, and Wood slapped him on the back. 'Game starts in ten minutes.'
Suddenly, Harry realized Wood was right. He was the youngest Seeker in a century, he was the best Seeker in world. And he could do this. He would make England proud. I can, I must, and I will, Harry thought fiercely. Never before had Harry gotten an urge to win so badly. Not even when he played his first ever match for Puddlemere United.
He was ready. For the match. For a successful career. For a famous life.
Harry took a deep breath and exited the changing room as he heard, 'Potter!'
And then he was gone.