Practice
progressed as usual. Alicia and I would arrive (late) and put our robes on. We
then did passing drills, shooting drills and "sprinting."
I fail to understand how someone like Oliver Wood stays so fit from sitting on
a broom. Honestly, there is no running, no nothing really. You just sit on the
broom and sort of "will" it to move the way you want it to.
Before this summer, I used to fence and that was my second sport. I used to go
to camps every summer. I got so good that Danton never had a chance against me.
But when Mum thought that I was old enough and responsible enough to get a job,
Dad found me a job at the Magical Menagerie in Diagon Alley.
At the end of practice I would walk up to the common room with Alicia and
Angelina. Oliver would stay after and write in his Quidditch Practice Journal
and then would come up later.
The whole Gryffindor team sat together at the Slytherin V. Ravenclaw match,
with the addition of Penelope Clearwater, Percy Weasley, Ron Weasley and
Hermione Granger.
Oliver wanted Slytherin to win so that we would be second place, but it was
still rather sad to see Draco Malfoy beat out Cho Chang for the snitch. I'll
tell you, it was the scariest thing I have ever seen, seeing Oliver actually
cheer for Slytherin! I mean, I can see his motive, but honestly!
When I heard him say, "Score Slytherin! Take it Flint, its open!" I seriously got up
and moved myself to sit next to Penelope.
When the game was over, Oliver came up behind me and wrapped his arms around my
waist.
"Wood! People can see!" I said.
He frowned. "Who cares?"
"Whatever...I can't believe you cheered for Marcus Flint!"
"What? Now if we beat Ravenclaw, which we will, then we get to play
Slytherin, and win, and get the Cup! Isn't that how you want to win it? Against
Slytherin?" He asked, letting me go, and now walking next to me.
"Well, sure..." I said.
"Five will be enough, don't you think?" he said.
I looked up to him crossing my arms. "Five?"
"Practices."
"Five practices...?"
"A week."
I stopped in the middle of the hall. "Five practices a week, Wood?"
He grinned. "I knew you'd agree. See you," he said. He kissed me on
my cheek and walked away.
I turned to Alicia whose eyes seemed to be popping out of her head.
"Five....practices...a...WEEK?" she said.
I smiled uneasily. "I guess so..."
"Katie, you've got to stop him!" she pleaded.
"Why me?" I asked.
"You're a bit dim sometimes you know that? You're his GIRLFRIEND!"
she said.
"And?"
"He's so wrapped around your finger!" she said.
I laughed. "Ha! Not about Quidditch! Are you kidding?"
"Yeah, well he is a little obsessed with Quidditch..." she said,
conceding to me.
"Trust me, Al. He won't budge," I said and I resumed walking.
Then Oliver was off again on his tyranny. Five practices a week. Five! Not the
normal three, but five! Now everyone on the team had one night to do all of
their homework.
And although I spent all my time practicing Quidditch with the team, and
Oliver, I never saw him. Does that make sense? If it doesn't it should.
So one day after practice, I walked right up to him and took his little
practice journal away from him and set it down on the bench.
"Er, I was kind of writing in that," he said, looking confused.
I sat down next to him, and put a hand on his shoulder. "Oliver, I'm
stressed!" I whined.
He looked extremely confused.
"Five a week! One night to do homework, and we never see each other
anymore..."
"I know it's tough," he said. "But it'll all be worth it when we
win the Cup, right? It'll look really great to the Puddlemere scouts, and for
when you try out for a team, too, Kates!"
I stood up. "Oliver, I'm not going to be playing Quidditch as a
career!"
"Well why not? I keep telling you, you're a really awesome Chaser!"
"Sure, I'd love to play as a career...but do you know how hard it is for a
girl to get on a professional team? Besides! No one's scouting me, and there
are three times as many Chasers out there as there are Keepers..."
Then as I looked at Oliver's concerned and confused face, I realized that
Quidditch and getting on to Puddlemere was all that mattered to him. Or at
least it seemed that way. Typical, typical boy.
It began to seem as if Oliver was two different personalities. There was one
Oliver, whom was shall call Evil Oliver, that really got on my nerves. Oliver
is Evil when he is stubborn and stupid and is a mean Quidditch dictator who
insists on waking six innocent people up from a deep, pleasant sleep (not to
mention nice dreams concerning Aden Ryan of the Irish National team...who is
also a keeper. Coincidence?)
Sweet Oliver is well...sweet. Basically, just everything else. Sweet Oliver
insists on paying for your butterbeer, and buying you a ridiculously expensive
necklace (all because you had your heart set on it the moment you saw it.)
Sweet Oliver is the boy who confuses you when he speaks to you because he can't
find the right words to say.
Evil Oliver is back. He has become a complete tyrant. He sounds eerily like my
mother when he tells me that I ought to go to bed. Normally, this would have
been sweet if weren't for his following statement: "I can't have anyone
falling asleep in practice tomorrow!"
Whenever he talked to me, it was always, always about a certain play that he
wanted to beat the life out of in the days practice so we knew it inside and
out.
I walked into the common room and Oliver had been sitting across from Harry,
who had been sitting in an arm chair while Oliver sat on the coffee table
across from him.
Not that I was eavesdropping, but I heard Oliver speaking emphatically.
"Bad news, Harry. I've just been to see Professor McGonagall about the
Firebolt. She - er- got a bit shirty with me. Told me I'd got my priorities
wrong. ["No kidding?" I muttered.] Seemed to think I cared more about
winning the Cup than I do about you staying alive. [Ha, and why am I not
surprised?] Just because I told her I didn't care if it threw you off, as long
as you caught the Snitch first. [What a prat!] Honestly, the way she was
yelling at me...you'd think I'd said something terrible...Then I asked her how
much longer she was going to keep it..." He put on a voice that sounded
too much like McGonagall for comfort. " ' As long as necessary, Wood'...I
reckon it's time you ordered a new broom Harry. There's an order form at the
back of 'Which Broomstick'...you could get a Nimbus Two Thousand and One, like
Malfoy's got"
And all the while I am thinking, 'Duh, Wood?'
"I'm not buying anything that Malfoy thinks is good," said Harry
flatly.
Oliver went back to his seat. As I passed him, I said, "Hi."
I heard him grunt and he didn't look up. What the hell?
I stopped and turned around and said, harshly, "Excuse me?"
He looked up and frowned. "What?"
"You grunted, Oliver."
"What?"
"A grunt is not a substitute for 'hello', Wood." I said with my hands
on my hips.
"What is your problem, Katie?"
I glared harder. "My problem? What is your problem?"
"My problem is that I have all this homework to do tonight, and only one
night to do it, and you're bothering me about grunting of all things."
"You can't spare a second to say 'hello' to me? And may I remind you Wood,
that it's your own fault that you've only got one night to do your
homework?"
I turned on my heel and walked away, but before I could set foot on the stairs,
there was a firm grip on my shoulder. Oliver spun me around and he was slightly
frowning.
I glared up at him. "What now?" I would have gone on about how nice
he looked if I weren't so angry.
"We need to talk," he said flatly.
On top of my anger, my stomach disappeared. Those are possibly the four worst
words in the English language when said together. Even worse than 'Avada
Kedavra.'
"Fine" I said, not looking into his eyes.
He guided me to two empty arm chairs stationed across from each other. I
slumped down in the chair, and crossed my arms, still avoiding his eyes.
He started. "Maybe - maybe this isn't a good idea. I mean, maybe, we
should cool it for a while..."
I scoffed, harshly, "Cool it?"
"Yeah, I mean, I just don't have time for a girlfriend right now."
When he said that, I bit my bottom lip hard, and clenched my eyes shut tightly.
Although I already new the answer, I asked him, "and that is
because?"
"Because of Quidditch. Sorry, but I think that it would be better for the
both of us. No distractions you know? Then we can really concentrate on the
game."
"I see," I said blankly.
I knew it! I KNEW it! I knew he cared more about Quidditch! I can't believe I
let myself get involved in this! Ugh...this really hurts.
"I'm glad we have an agreement," he said grinning. How I wanted to
slap that grin off of his face.
I stood up. "Oh, I don't agree. But I don't need a prat like you
distracting me from my life. And by life, I don't mean Quidditch. There are
other things in life besides Quidditch."
He stared blankly at me and I headed toward the stairs but then I decided to
walk around the school.
I passed Percy in the hallway and he stopped me. "Katie, are you OK?"
he asked me.
I smiled at him, acting as if nothing was wrong. "Yes, I'm fine. Why do
you ask?"
He shrugged and said, "Nothing, nothing...You just looked bothered."
"See you later, Percy," I said and took off down the stairs.
I didn't really know quite where I was headed, but I just didn't want to go
back up to the tower. Not yet, at least.
I wanted to kick something. I wanted to kick myself. How could he think that
Quidditch was more important than me?
I went into the Great Hall where some students sat doing homework, while others
played Chess with each other.
The head table was empty and I had always wanted to sit in Dumbledore's golden
chair. There were no teachers in the Hall, so I took my chances and sat in the
chair with purple cushions.
As I sat there, I felt a stupid, little tear roll down my cheek. I reached up
and rubbed it away.
I heard a clanking sound as someone stepped up on to the platform where the
high table was. I looked up and Cedric Diggory was looking down at me.
"Um, Miss? No students are allowed to sit in the headmasters chair...Katie
Bell?" He asked, recognizing my face.
I stood up and hurriedly wiped my eyes. "Cedric Diggory, you know my
name?" I asked, laughing...or the best I could do for how I was feeling.
"Yeah! You know mine, I see," he said smiling at me. He really was
the strong silent type.
"How could I not know you? You won against us, and then nobly tried to get
a rematch," I said to him.
He looked down and shuffled his feet. "I still say it wasn't fair."
"Do you want to switch to Gryffindor? I think we could use a new
captain," I said randomly, thinking of how I hate Oliver.
Cedric gave me a puzzled look, "What about Oliver Wood?"
I almost cringed. "He's a tyrant."
"I thought - "Cedric started."Oh, wait! Did something
happen?"
"Yes, he's power hungry and selfish and thinks a grunt passes as a
hello..." I said with my arms crossed. As I said this Cedric draped a
strong arm over my back and shoulder and walked me off the platform where the
head table was. But I didn't really object.
"A grunt?" he asked, confused.
"A grunt...like a sound?" I turned my head to look at him. He had
very clear blue eyes.
Cedric grunted. "Mhm! I see. Well that's not right. A lovely lady like you
deserves a bow and a kiss on the hand."
He took his arm of my shoulder and took my hand, bowed to me and kissed my
hand. I had been smiling very widely; until I remembered that time Oliver had
kissed my hand. But, I pushed that thought out of my head.
"Thank you for demonstrating, kind sir," I said. I must admit that
this must have sounded extremely cheesy, but Cedric grinned at me any how.
He walked with me until we reached the Grand Staircase. As I climbed up to the
first floor, Cedric called out. "Katie, sit tight. He'll see the error of
his ways and he'll come crawling back to you. Just you wait."
I forced a smile at him and waved. I climbed up the rest of the stairs careful
to skip the trick stairs.
When I got back to the common room, Oliver was gone, but his Puddlemere
brochure remained on a coffee table. I ignored my urge to toss it into the
fire.
As I climbed into bed, rather proud of myself that I hadn't lost it and started
crying, I thought of what Cedric said. I half hoped that Oliver would, come
crawling back, and the other half just wanted to get through with the bloody
season and year so I wouldn't have to deal with him.
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Wasn't Oliver such an idiot?!?!?
Flames will be used to.I dunno. Make a fire?
Resources: Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban by J.K. Rowling, copyright
1999, Arthur A. Levine Book, Scholastic Press. pages 244, 245, "The
Patronus"
I need a review, even if you hate me! Ahhhh! I get so scared whenever I write
that something goes askew! But I just don't want it to be an."I love you,
You love me, it's perfect and we live happily ever after."
Disclaimer: oops! Almost forgot it! I'm NOT jk rowling.
Remember to read "Something About Katie" chapter 4!
