The disdain that Wood had for Slytherins and all their qualities could never compare to how much he loathed Marcus Flint. However, it did not always used to be this way. Wood and Flint were newly found friends when they first entered Hogwarts. Wood remembered idly how the two had met by chance on the Hogwarts Express.
They had both ended up in the same compartment (all the other ones had been full) and after a few minutes had introduced themselves and begun talking about quidditch. Quickly the two realized how much they both loved the sport and spent hours excitedly discussing their favorite teams—for Flint it was Bulgaria and for Oliver it was Puddlemere United. Next, they discussed which houses they would want to be sorted into.
"I dunno, Gryffindor seems to be where I would fit the best. The brave at heart, right? I could live with that," said Wood proudly. He even seemed to straighten up as he spoke as if he gained confidence just by thinking of the house.
Flint looked down at his trainers for a bit and got strangely quiet. Not once had either of the boys spoken at a subdued volume since they started talking about quidditch. After a moment, Flint weakly replied, "Yeah, I would love to be sorted there as well" before quickly changing the subject.
By the time the train stopped at Hogwarts, a bystander would have thought Flint and Wood had known each other for years. Even at the sorting ceremony they stood together, almost shoulder to shoulder, as they waited for their names to be called.
"Flint, Marcus" rang McGonagall's sharp voice. Marcus seemed to walk up to the hat with a cool demeanor, but Oliver noticed how his fingers seemed to nervously twitch by his sides as Professor McGonagall placed the worn and over-sized hat on his head, covering the small boys mop of jet black hair. The Great Hall seemed to stand still for a minute before the murmurs began.
"Isn't he a pure blood? What's taking so long" hissed an older student from the far-right table. Wood looked over at the long wooden table presumed this to be the Slytherin table as the boy who just spoke was wearing an emerald green and black tie.
Another minute passed and the murmuring had turned to full blown discussions over what went wrong. The sorting hat rarely took this long with students like Flint whose families had long histories of being sorted into Slytherin. He had not told Oliver on the train about his family's history or shared any preference for Slytherin, but Oliver started to wonder why Flint had expressed his interest in joining Gryffindor on the train earlier if everyone expected him to be placed into Slytherin. After four minutes, even Dumbledore started to look around inquisitively wondering what could be taking so long before the hat dismissively said "Slytherin", almost as if the hat itself was irritated with the decision. The Hall fell silent again and Oliver's shoulders slumped. The fact that the Sorting Hat did not yell the decision proudly like it had been for any other student ended up confusing everyone more.
The silence was short lived, however, as the Slytherin table regained their composure and began cheering loudly to welcome their newest member. Flint almost stumbled out of the chair looking embarrassed and, to Oliver, a little disappointed even through a forced smile as he headed over to the far-right table closest to Wood.
Marcus refused to look up from his own table until he was forced to watch Oliver walk excitedly over to the Gryffindors who were two tables away.
A lot of time had passed since the sorting ceremony. It didn't take long for the two boys to find their own sets of friends within their houses. The irony came during their third years when quidditch, the first thing that had brought them together, became the biggest source of their rivalry. Joking around quickly turned into harsh words, dirty looks, and pushing and shoving. Both Wood and Flint had been sent to the hospital wing numerous times and each injury almost always had something to do with the other boy. By the time the both of them had became captains in their fifth years, no one would have guessed that they had briefly been friends as there was nothing friendly in the ways they nearly snarled at each other at all times.
Fifth year courses were challenging, but potions classes were especially hard for Oliver to get through. Oliver groaned at the thought of sitting in the same room with Flint for yet another double potions class with Gryffindor and Slytherin. He didn't know which was worse, yet another class with Marcus Flint or with Severus Snape. He trudged out of the portrait hole and made his way down to the dungeons. He shuddered as he entered the cold room, surprisingly the first to arrive, and chose one of the better cauldrons to work with. As he started to pull out his textbook (Magical Drafts and Potions) and other materials, Oliver heard the heavy door open and close, but no footsteps. After a moment, he turned his head around only to see Marcus standing by the door with his arms folded and a smug grin on his face. Oliver couldn't have rolled his eyes any harder as he turned back around to open his textbook and eventually Flint made his way over to the table directly behind Wood. After slamming his textbook on the table, Flint sat down heavily in his chair and sighed audibly.
"Don't you just love potions? I hope you'll be able to keep up this year, Wood." Oliver whipped around again, ready to tell him off, but before he could get a word in the rest of the class filed in followed by Professor Snape. Flint seemed to smirk even harder (if that was possible) as Oliver scoffed and focused back on his textbook. Oliver could feel his face getting hot the more he thought about how Flint always tugged at his last nerve. Between his anger towards Flint and his nervousness from Snape sweeping around the room to make condescending remarks at all of the Gryffindors' cauldrons, Oliver had always had a hard time doing his best in this course. Unfortunately for Oliver, no matter how hard he tried he could not get Flint's sneering face out of his head for the rest of class.
Once class was over, Oliver gathered his things back into his maroon knapsack and headed back to the common rooms with Percy Weasley, who had been sitting next to him during class. Percy wasted no time in discussing his schedule for making his rounds around the castle that night as Head Boy while Wood only absentmindedly listened.
As they left the room, Oliver felt someone shove past him and he let out a loud "Oy!" as his bag fell off of his shoulder and onto the ground with its contents spilling everywhere. He was nowhere near surprised to see Marcus walking away in a group of Slytherins. Oliver couldn't even get himself to be upset about having to clean up his things from the floor as he suddenly grinned at one beautiful thought—today was the first quidditch match between Gryffindor and Slytherin.