Before anyone knew it, Christmas had come and gone, and classes had started up again. Hermione Granger had mysteriously disappeared, though her closest friends, Ron and Harry, seemed to have a fairly good idea of where she had gone. Most everything was back to normal at Hogwarts: Quidditch practices were five times a week or more, homework was piling up, and Gilderoy Lockhart, professor of the Defense Against the Dark Arts class, was being more pompous and overbearing since he had himself convinced he had driven off the culprit of the attacks.
Fred picked up his books and made his way to his first class, glad Valentine's Day was over. Just the day before, Lockhart had had the whole school decked out in the most hideous, disgusting pink decorations Fred had ever seen. It had been nearly impossible to get to his classes as well, what with all of the Dwarves dressed as Cupids running around.
That hadn't been quite as bad as his holiday, however. On Christmas morning, Fred had received a Howler from his mother, reprimanding him for what he had done to Snape's classroom. The damage hadn't been bad at all, really. He had wasted perfectly good supplies, yes, but Snape could always replace those.
"Fred!"
He turned around. Angelina ran up to him. "How did you know it was me?"
She shrugged. "Honestly? It was a guess."
"Or maybe you were just hoping it was me, because you're madly in love with me," Fred said, grinning.
Angelina laughed, punching his shoulder. "You wish." They entered the classroom. "You know Wood was pretty mad after the last practice when you didn't show up."
"I had detention!" Fred said. "Didn't you tell him?" She shook her head. He grunted, "Who cares, anyway?"
"He said he wants to talk to you," she said, taking a seat next to him in back of the room.
"Great," he said sarcastically. "He'll probably double my practices now."
Angelina forced a smile. "Probably."
The class, which was Transfigurations, was fairly easy that day. They took notes throughout the entire period about what they would be doing the next class period, turning guinea fowl into guinea pigs.
"This is going to be simple!" George said later that month, after their Defense Against the Dark Arts class. "Hardly any homework at all over the weekend.
"Yeah, that'll give us more time to play Quidditch," said Fred. "Wood's really getting carried away. Every night he has us practicing!"
"What, you're not enjoying it?" Katie Bell asked sarcastically. She buttered her bread and took a bite. "When are we supposed to be there tonight?"
"Immediately after dinner," Wood said suddenly, sitting down next to her.
"Oh, hey, Oliver." Katie laughed nervously, hoping he hadn't heard her last comment. "So…uh…how are you?"
He raised one eyebrow, looking at her. "I heard you, you know. Don't you like practicing?"
"It's not that we don't like it, Oliver," Angelina began, "we just don't like it as much as you do."
"You like it too much," Fred added.
"Really, it's unhealthy," George said.
"We've got a big game coming up!" Wood protested.
"Every game's a big game to you," George commented.
"It's against Hufflepuff, and I'm not going to lie to you, I think they've gotten better." Wood ate a spoonful of soup. "They're Seeker—Diggory, was it? He's pretty good."
"But Harry's better," Fred said.
Harry didn't comment, even to protest, something he often did.
"Well, I'd like to think Harry's better," Wood went on. "But if you don't concentrate, Potter, he could get the Snitch."
Harry nodded. "I know. I'll do my best, Oliver."
Wood smiled. "That's the ticket." He rose from the table. "All right team, let's go. You've all got your brooms, right?" There were several grunts as the Gryffindors raised their brooms so he could see them. "Good."
Slowly, they got up from the table and followed their captain to the pitch.
"Harry," Wood began, a quill in his mouth, "what do you do if you see the Hufflepuff Seeker in a full-fledged dive?"
Harry sighed and answered, "I immediately shoot after him."
"Because…" Wood helped.
"Because even if he has seen the Snitch first, there's still a chance I can get it," Harry finished in a monotone.
"Good!" Oliver stared at his parchment again for a few minutes. "Well, I think we're done here. You can all go back. Remember to get plenty of sleep tonight, because we're practicing early tomorrow."
Fred unstuck his face from the side of his broom, where it had been plastered for the past four hours. Then he got to his feet and followed the team back to Gryffindor Tower.
The day had finally come. It had been a long time since their last Quidditch match, but they were all worn out from practicing. Wood had had them out on the field every day for three weeks up until the match. He had told them to get to the pitch a bit early for the current match, though Harry had been a smidgeon late.
"We're going to win," Wood said, though it was mostly to reassure himself, rather than the whole team. "Everyone ready?"
"Ready as ever," said George, his hand gripping his Cleansweep Five.
"Yep." Fred grinned at his twin, then looked to Oliver for further direction.
"Let's go." Wood led the team out onto the pitch and immediately lifted off the ground to do a few laps around the goal posts to warm up.
The Gryffindors mounted their brooms, ready to take off, as Madam Hooch released the balls. Suddenly, Professor McGonagall came hurrying onto the field. She pulled out a megaphone and called into it, "The match has been cancelled!"
Wood flew to the ground and landed rather roughly. "But, Professor! We've got to play—the cup—Gryffindor–" he pleaded, running up to her.
Unfortunately for him, she ignored him and continued, "All students are to make their way back to the House common rooms, where their Heads of Houses will give them further information. As quickly as you can, please!" She motioned for Harry to come over to her, lowering the megaphone. "Potter, I think you'd better come with me…"
Harry gave the team a fleeting glance and followed McGonagall.
"I was actually looking forward to playing," Fred said honestly.
Wood was devastated. "What happened now?" he demanded. "What could make her do this to me? I thought she cared about Gryffindor!"
"She does, Wood," Alicia snapped. "I'm sure Professor McGonagall has a good reason for canceling the match."
"She'd better," Wood said angrily, dragging his broom behind him as they walked up the hill.