Butterfly Effect ; H. Potter

5. flight of the fat lady.

"This is our last chance - my last chance - to win the Quidditch Cup," he told them, striding up and down in front of them. "I'll be leaving at the end of this year. I'll never get another shot at it."

"Gryffindor hasn't won for seven years now. OK, so we've had the worst luck in the world - injuries - then the tournament getting called off last year ..." Wood swallowed, as though the memory still brought a lump to his throat. "But we also know we've got the best - ruddy - team - in - the - school," he said, punching a fist into his other hand, the old manic glint back in his eye while Antheia snickered into her hand.

"We've got three superb Chaser."

Wood pointed at Angelina Johnson, Katie Bell, and Antheia. Antheia pointed back at him, grinning.

"We've got two unbeatable Beaters."

"Stop it, Oliver, you're embarrassing us," said Fred and George Weasley together, pretending to blush.

"And we've got a Seeker who has never failed to win us a match!" Wood rumbled, glaring at Harry with a kind of furious pride. "And me," he added, as an afterthought.

"We think you're very good, too, Oliver," said George.

"Cracking Keeper," said Fred.

"The point is," Wood went on, resuming his pacing, "the Quidditch Cup should have had our name on it these last two years. Ever since Harry and Antheia joined the team, I've thought the thing was in the bag. But we haven't got it, and this year's the last chance we'll have to finally see our name on the thing ..."

Wood spoke so dejectedly that even Fred and George looked sympathetic.

"Oliver, this year's out year," said Fred.

"We'll do it, Oliver!" said Angelina.

"Definitely," said Harry.

Full of determination, the team started training sessions, three evenings a week. The weather was getting colder and wetter, the nights darker, but no amount of mud, wind, or rain could tarnish Harry's wonderful vision of finally winning the huge silver cup.

Antheia loved Quidditch. She always had. However, with her extra classes, she hardly had time to complete all her homework with the extra Quidditch practices. She had close to no free time, even during weekends, and pulled all-nighters at least twice a week.

Antheia looked up from her Arthimancy textbook to see the common room buzzing excitedly.

"What's happening?" she asked Ron and Hermione, who were sitting in two of the best chairs by the fireside and completing some star charts for Astronomy as Harry walked in.

"First Hogsmeade weekend," said Ron, pointing at a notice that had appeared on the battered old noticeboard. "End of October. Hallowe'en."

"Excellent," said Fred, who had followed Harry through the portrait hole. "I need to visit Zonko's, I'm nearly out of Stink Pellets."

Harry threw himself into a chair beside Ron, his high spirits ebbing away. Antheia seemed to read his mind.

"Harry, I'm sure you'll be able to go next time," she said. "They're bound to catch Black soon, he's been sighted once already. Anyways," she leaned closer to Harry and whispered, "you could always ask Fred and George."

"Black's not a fool enough to try anything in Hogsmeade," said Ron. "Ask McGonagall if you can go this time, Harry, the next one might not be for ages -"

"Ron!" said Hermione. "Harry's supposed to stay in school -"

"He can't be the only third-year left behind," said Ron. "Ask McGonagall, go on, Harry -"