A Hogwarts Legend: Round Two [2]

Chapter Ten

"Why don't you ask Emily?" Harry says, smirking. "After all, her dad is a famous Quidditch player."

What a prick, he's knows how much I hate Quidditch!

Can I punch him now?

"Really?" Colin says wide eyed. "Can I have a photo with you as well? And could you get your dad to sign it?"

"After practise," I sigh heavily. "And yes those balls are called Bludgers. There are two Beaters on each team, who carry clubs to beat the Bludgers away from their side. Fred and George Weasley are the Gryffindor Beaters."

"And what are the other balls for?" Colin asks, tripping down a couple of steps because he's gazing open-mouthed at me.

"Well, the Quaffle- that's the biggish red one - is the one that scores goals. Three Chasers - I'm one of them - on each team throw the Quaffle to each other and try and get it through the goalposts at the end of the pitch - they're three long piles with hoops on the end."

"And the fourth ball -"

"- is the Golden Snitch," I say, "and it's very small, very fast and difficult to catch. But that's what the Seeker's got to do, because a game of Quidditch doesn't end until the Snitch has been caught. And whichever team's Seeker gets the Snitch earns his or hers team an extra hundred and fifty points."

"And you're Gryffindor Seeker, aren't you?" says Colin, turning to Harry.

"Yes," says Harry, as we leave the castle and start across the dew-drenched grass. "And there's the Keeper, too. He guards the goalposts. That's it, really."

But Colin doesn't stop questioning us all the way down the sloping lawns to the Quidditch pitch, and we only shake him off when we reach the changing rooms. Colin calls after us in a piping voice, "I'll go and get a good seat, Harry!" and hurries off to the stands.

Rude, I'm here too!

As soon as Colin is out of view, I turn to Harry and punch him hard on the arm.

"Ow, what was that for?" He asks, trying to hide his smirk.

"You know what that's for, you dick," I mutter as we enter the room.

The rest of the Gryffindor team are already in the changing room. Wood is the only person who looks truly awake. Fred and George are sitting, puffy-eyed and tousle-haired, next to Katie and Angelina, who are yawning.

I sit down next to George, who smiles at me, and Harry sits down next to me.

"There you two are, what kept you?" says Wood briskly. "Now, I wanted a quick talk with you all before we actually get into the pitch, because I spent the summer devising a whole new training programme, which I really think will make all the difference ..."

Wood is holding up a large diagram of a Quidditch pitch, on which are drawn many lines, arrows and crosses in different-coloured inks. He takes out his wand, taps the board and the arrows begin to wiggle over the diagram like caterpillars. As Wood launches into a speech about his new tactics, Fred's head droops right into Angelina's shoulder and begins to snore.

The first board takes nearly twenty minutes to explain, but there is another board under that, and a third under that one. Sighing, I lay my head on George's shoulder, ignoring the fluttering of my heart.

This is what happens when I don't eat food in the morning!

"So," says Wood, at long last, jerking me from a wistful fantasy about what I could be eating for breakfast, "is that clear? Any questions?"