CHAPTER 3
You know how everyone would get excited at the start of the school year and would have everything planned out as a fun-filled, trouble-free, exciting period?
Okay, might as well add 'learning' to the list. But let's be honest, majority of the student population would just include that or any other academic related term for the sake of saving face and coming off as a responsible scholastic individual, when in fact, they would much rather look forward to having a year of sheer good fun with less educational requirements.
I, for one, would consider myself included in that majority… except, I was not expecting this year to be any more academically demanding than it already was. And no, I don't mean our O.W.L.S –because that's already a given for us fifth years.
I meant flying lessons.
"I'm sorry… could you please repeat that again, Professor?"
"Yes, Miss James. You are to take flying lessons to compensate for the missed lessons during first year. It is, after all, a part of the curriculum at Hogwarts. And seeing as how your previous school did not meet Hogwarts standards in terms of these flying lessons, it is only natural that you undergo such training."
She's talking to the right student, right? You're must be kidding, Professor. This must be some kind of joke or misunderstanding. Like that cane of yours you brought with you that I genuinely thought would serve its other purpose.
And Hogwarts standards?! Seriously? How much more does Hogwarts teach their students about the basics of flying? All you have to do is summon a broom, mount on it and try your hardest to balance yourself while in the air. How hard can that be? Even a toddler can manage to do that. I'm no pro, but I know it shouldn't be that difficult.
But I suppose there's more to it than meets the eye. Let's just stay positive, Elizabeth. At least this is better than writing an essay or studying the history of flying. Nothing to get all worked up about. This should be no sweat.
There was a knock on the door that revealed a head that had chocolate brown hair. I was familiar with the owner of such a head.
"You called for me, Professor?"
Ah yes. Did I mention I wasn't going to participate with the first years? I was going to be trained personally by Gryffindor's Quidditch Captain, Oliver Wood.
"Elizabeth, this is Oliver Wood –Gryffindor's Quidditch captain." His hazel eyes met my chestnut ones and we both exchanged nods of acknowledgement. McGonagall turned to Wood this time, "This is Elizabeth James, the special case I mentioned to you before. I trust her in your hands and that you will give the suitable training necessary much like what the Gryffindor team has come to adapt with."
No sweat, right? Dead wrong.
I've heard about this Oliver Wood. The Quidditch fanatic whose undying love for the sport makes Filch's obsession for his cat look like a petty crush; the bloke who sees the female race as another extension of the male population and shows no mercy with his hardcore weekly –and sometimes daily training.
Whenever Jeanine would catch sight of Harry Potter, she would always –and I mean always – drop everything she's doing and follow him for a good 1 kilometer –give or take – and then magically return to what she was doing. She claims that it was to increase her chances of being noticed. I don't know what she meant by that, but I guess being in the same house, common room and dining table did not suffice. Anyway, during one of those instances, she dragged Mai and I along and ended up at the Quidditch pitch for their weekly training. That was my first encounter and confirmation of how much everyone who ever said that Wood's training was difficult, was ridiculously far from the truth. Difficult was certainly an understatement.
It was gruesome.
From 20 laps around the oval, to crunches of 50 repetitions of 3 sets –and that wasn't even the actual training! I've never heard anyone dying from too much training, but I won't be surprised if word got around that one of the Gryffindor Quidditch members disappeared, never to be heard of again.
To be fair, these lessons with Wood were only good for one year, and I would never have to do this sort of thing for the next two years. And it's not like my grades are suffering at the moment. I suppose I could manage my academic and social life and still enjoy my 15-year old privileges, right?
Probably not. I grimaced at the thought itself.
"So, next week at the Quidditch pitch after class is fine with you?" A Scottish accent finally broke the silence after Wood and I were dismissed by McGonagall.
I looked up and nodded my head. He was about four inches taller than my 5'6 height. It felt weird walking alone in a corridor with an older student –a seventh year, no less! It wasn't as if I was embarrassed to be seen with him. That wasn't the case. He was much older and a Quidditch Captain, which I would think had some sort of authority still, should we be questioned by a professor or prefect. He also wasn't an eyesore either. His lean physique, that calm look on his face that I heard would even twist any girl's knickers and I suppose his brains considering he managed to climb all the way to where he is now. Of course, it wasn't anywhere near my beloved Pucey. And no, I wasn't checking out Oliver Wood just now.
"So what house are you in?"
I looked at my robes lined in red. Ravenclaw. "Umm, Gryffindor?"
He gave a startled expression as he glanced at my uniform that indicated his quick realization of the obvious.
"Oh, right—" he laughed while he scratched his head"—sorry, just caught up with a lot of things right now."
I waved a hand, reassuring him I didn't mind it. "You must be busy with N.E.W.T.S."
"A tad bit –" he began, "—It's the Quidditch Cup I'm more worried about to be honest. Anyway, I'll walk you to the common room? I'm on my way there actually."
Sports over Studies type of guy, I see. "No Quidditch practice?"
He shook his head, "Postponed. We're gonna start two days from now. I have other things to take care of, you see."
Well that's a bit of a shocker.
I gave him another nod and silence enveloped us as we made our way back to the common room. I can tell it was both awkward for us, seeing as how we have never spoken to each other until today. Fortunately, he decided to break the silence again. "So do you play Quidditch?"
"Unfortunately, no… sorry." I apologized as soon as I saw that immediate look of disappointment on his face. "But I know the rules though!"
He quickly recovered and smiled back. "No worries. You're not the first person I've come across who doesn't play Quidditch. But I'm sure once you get the taste and hang of it, you'll love the sport."
Fat chance. The only sport I'll ever love is nabbing Pucey.
As we were nearing the corridor that led to the moving staircase, I could sense him glancing at me from his peripheral, as if finding the right moment to speak again.
"So, uh, listen –"
"JAMECEY!" I heard someone yell from the other side, and without a doubt, knew the source it came from.
Fred, George and Jeanine were walking towards us, laughing and perhaps, all came from the library judging by the number of books they were carrying.
"Finally you're done! Mai went back to the common room already and the twins accompanied me around the corridors. What took you so long though?" Accompanied? They bloody look like your bodyguards with you placed in the middle of the two. Jeanine all of a sudden looked at Wood and me before forming a mischievous smile.
It also didn't take Fred –or George long enough to pick up the scenario for him to comment on Wood's presence. "Woody! What are you doing here? And with James, for that matter." Okay, that's probably George considering the fact that Fred would always call me 'Jamecey'. I just based that from Potions and since at this very moment, the one who spoke did not call me such a name to warrant me to believe it was indeed George speaking. Then again, I could be wrong. Merlin. I have got to learn how to differentiate these two gingers.
"So this is why you took long, huh?" Jeanine teased as she glanced over at Wood.
"No! Well… yes –Sort of." I stuttered. "I have flying lessons with him, you see."
"Ah! So this is what you were talking about the other day, Wood. We just never thought you'd postpone practice for this." recalled a snickering Fred. Okay, I think I'm sure that's Fred.
Wait. Hold the floo powder. What?
I swore I just saw Wood stiffen from that comment.
"But she seems worth the trouble anyway! So it's all good!" Fred then turned to me and winked. "Merlin, it was a blessing too! Can you believe we managed to perfect our tail growing charm?"
"Them Slytherins are going to have a wild time with this one!" George announced confidently before being elbowed by the prefect beside him.
"Alright, fun's over everyone!" Clapped Jeanine, grabbing me by the arm and pulling me towards the opposite direction. "I've gathered what I needed. Gentlemen, if you will excuse us. We have some important business to attend to."
We all said our goodbyes and Wood, who was now being dragged by the twins, looked back and smiled, giving a small wave, which I reciprocated when Jeanine was looking at her wristwatch. He seems nice, I guess. We trailed off to what looked like the corridor towards the Ravenclaw tower.
"I can't believe you get to have a one-on-one session with Oliver Wood! Looks like we're going to have an interesting year, huh, Elizabeth?" Exclaimed Jeanine, as her grip was getting tighter from her excitement. Bloody hell. This girl will break my forearm in half! "You did hear what Fred just said, right? About how Wood postponed training for you?"
I shook my head to contradict her. "I think you're misinterpreting that part. He was probably teasing him. We aren't even close to begin with –let alone even mentioned a word to each other until today happened."
"You sure about that? It doesn't seem like it –for Wood anyway."
"What are you –" Before I could continue with my question, Jeanine shushed me and whispered rather hoarsely, "It's time!" She had a serious look on her face; The face she makes when she catches a student wandering along the corridors past curfew.
I questioned while gently wiping some of her sprayed saliva from my cheek, "Time for what?"
She didn't seem to pay attention to my first question.
When she released me from her clutches, I was now caressing my now blood deficient wrist and asked her again, "What was that all about? And what's this important business you mentioned?" I swear, this girl also inflicts long term trauma not just towards inanimate objects, but to living beings as well.
We were behind a large knight statue and she drew me closer to her, pointing to Professor Flitwick's Charms classroom, and whispered as she giggled, "It's Harry's dismissal from Charms!"
I mentally strangled her by the neck.
I should've known.
Fun fact: I always found humor in people who would drag you out with them to something they claim to be important, only to find out that it was complete nonsense.
