Quidditch practice was especially hard today. Wood was drilling us like crazy and almost, almost that is, got us to run around the field like muggles. What was he thinking? To add to the 'fun', it was raining. Very hard, too.

"WOOD!" Fred yelled, "It's raining like Hell out here! We can practice again later!".

I was with Fred on this one. Wood, who was on his broom in the air high above our heads, looked down, frowning. I strained to see him through the falling sheets of rain. Lightning flashed. I could see him sigh and he came down to Fred's level. The thunder from the last flash of lightening echoed around us. I didn't feel that safe out there. Also, the rain made my broomstick wet and slippery, making it hard to hold on tight.

"No, Weasley! We're up against Slytherin for the first time this year next week, we have to be ready for anything!"

Wood stared at him angrily and sped off towards Harry, who was, at the moment, totally spacing out, missing all signs of the Golden Snitch. Harry was acting strangely the last few days, looking off somewhere else like he was watching someone. Someone unknown to the rest of us. Personally, I shook it off as nothing.

As George watched, he muttered, "I'll bet Slytherin doesn't have their team out in the rain and cold..."

Wood jolted around to face him with wide eyes. "What was that, Weasley!?"

George looked towards me and grinned. I rolled my eyes. Fred and George loved to annoy Wood. Although it was getting old, I was never tired to witness Wood's expression.

"Only fifteen more minutes, everyone!" Wood yelled reassuringly, but already there were groans and audible muttering. Wood sighed and held up a hand in protest.

"Alright, fine! Practice is over, I'll see you all tomorrow!"

Wood grinned. There wasn't supposed to be practice tomorrow, but because of the rain, he was making up for it. He waited to see if anyone would notice. I did, but I wasn't sure if anyone else did.

All around me, figures on their brooms dropped to the earth gracefully, lowering themselves on the ground. I eased myself off my broom, finding myself sore from Wood's practice. Gravity felt strange after flying around, like it was stronger than usual. My body threatened to collapse onto the ground, but I held myself up.

I heard Wood yelling to Harry about going early to practice the next day to make sure he was ready. I trudged through to mud off the field. Besides Harry and Wood, I was the last one off the field. 'Wood.' I shuddered.

Everyone had been calling Oliver that nowadays, Wood. I had called him Oliver for about the first year or so, then everyone began the 'Wood' phase. After people calling him that all the time, it became a habit with me. An awful habit, I might add. It sort of annoyed me when one's friend was called by their last name. Oliver was only Wood when I wasn't directly speaking to him.

If it was someone you didn't know too well, or you disliked them, all right, but other than that, no. I hated it when people called me 'Bell' instead of 'Katie' or whatever nickname they insisted upon. It just felt weird to me. But then again, I had gotten used to it.

I heard fast footsteps behind me, someone was running. I waited for the Gryffindor Seeker, a Mr. Harry Potter, to pass me, on his way to the changing rooms. But it wasn't young Harry, I turned to see someone slowing down and stop beside me. Oliver Wood.

"Bell," he said acknowledgingly. I winced and looked at him. I had known him for years, he knew my first name, you would think he would use it. He smiled and laughed uneasily.

"Sorry, Kate," he corrected himself. There you see! An example. As I stated before, nicknames were often used. Mine were Kate, Katie, or sometimes Kat- (it was what my little sister used to call me).

I smiled uneasily. "So," I said, "Do you think Harry is ready this time?"

Oliver sighed, we were nearing the building. "I think Potter has too many distractions..."

"As do we all," I said unintentionally. Oliver frowned and looked at me, staring through the rain. I smiled and shook my head. I hadn't meant anything by what I had said.

"What's going on, Katie?" Oliver asked me suspiciously.

"Nothing, Oliver." I said innocently.

Wood, yes, (I admit it!), I called him that unintentionally sometimes, reached in front of me and pulled open the door, holding it open for me. I rolled my eyes and went inside. He came in after me and closed the door behind himself. I looked down to see a puddle of water already forming near my feet. I was soaked. I sighed and set my broom down. I wrung my practice robes in an effort to drain any water out of them before I went back to my room.

Oliver bent down and picked up my broom. "I'll take this out to the shed for you," he said. He meant the Broom Shed, where we kept all of our brooms. I nodded and smiled. He looked back over his shoulder as he walked and smiled back at me.

"Thank you, Oliver!" I called after him, appreciatively. I slowly made my way back to Gryffindor Tower, fully aware of the ghosts and lively portraits watching me.

"Working hard today, I see," Nearly Headless Nick said to me cheerfully. I looked down at my robes and scowled at him, groaning. I kept my head down and continued walking.

"My, my," he said to himself, "Aren't we testy!"

I ignored Nick and the people in the paintings who shook their heads disapprovingly at me. I sighed; the paintings had never liked me.

I came to the Fat Lady and stood in front of her. She stared down at me grimly.

"Quidditch practice is over?" she asked.

"I haven't seen the rest of the team yet... Well," she said, "If you see that Potter boy, tell him that I would have enjoyed watching his practice today."

I raised my eyebrow. Harry had fans everywhere, in London, Egypt, South America; the letters came from all over the world. Now, they were even in the paintings.

I nodded and muttered the password, waiting for the door to open. Eventually, it did, granting me access to Gryffindor Tower.