On Saturday morning, William, Hermione, Annie, Cedric, and Cho left the castle.
They were planning to visit Hagrid.
However, as they passed the Quidditch pitch, the group split up.
Annie wrapped her arm around Hermione's and dragged her towards the field.
The two of them held hands as they walked, looking for all the world like sisters.
In reality, though, they'd had countless arguments over the summer holidays.
Girls are such strange creatures—despite their so-so relationship, they still insisted on holding hands as they walked.
They even went to the bathroom in groups, as if afraid of encountering some monster.
It was truly a baffling phenomenon!
When have you ever seen boys holding hands as they go to the bathroom? The mere thought made William shudder, it was just too much.
…
"Where are they off to?" Cho asked as they crossed a grassy patch, "Aren't we going to see Hagrid?"
"They're stopping by to watch Gryffindor's practice. Wood started an early morning training session, and Annie dragged Hermione along to assess their team's strength—she's hoping to join the team in a few years."
"Ha, Annie wants to join the Quidditch team too?"
William nodded. "I bought Annie and Hermione each a Nimbus 2001 over the summer. Annie's been practicing hard."
"How's the Nimbus 2001's performance?" Cho asked curiously.
"It's a bit faster than the Nimbus 2000, but the start-up time is about the same. Overall, it's within an acceptable range," Cedric explained.
"I've got all sorts of performance stats on the Nimbus 2001, I'll show you when we get back."
They had spent the summer conducting a 5v5 chaos match, thoroughly testing the broom's capabilities.
Cho nodded thoughtfully. "Is Gryffindor starting their training this early in the season?"
"Yup, they're determined to win the Quidditch Cup," William said with a grin.
"Especially after Lockhart awarded the Golden Quill Trophy to Professor McGonagall. She scolded Wood for half an hour in her office and gave him strict orders to secure the championship."
"Every other house's team is just an obstacle in our path to victory," Cho said, lifting her chin proudly.
"Think we could recruit Annie as a spy to learn their tactics?" she added.
"Don't even think about it, Annie was trying to trick us into revealing our strategies just this morning," William chuckled.
"If she became a spy, she'd double-cross both sides. She'd love the sense of accomplishment from beating Ravenclaw."
"Looks like our biggest rival this year is Gryffindor. As for the others... they're just small fry," Cho concluded.
"Hey, you two are going too far," Cedric complained. "Am I invisible here? Hufflepuff has made it to the finals three times, we're the real contenders! Gryffindor is the small fry!"
William and Cho burst into laughter.
…
In the Gryffindor locker room, Oliver Wood was pacing back and forth, waving a towel as he tried to rally the team.
"Our Gryffindor team is the top contender for the championship this year! We're nothing like those bottom-tier Hufflepuff losers!"
But no one was listening—everyone was half-asleep, having been dragged to practice at four in the morning.
George had dark circles under his eyes and a mop of messy hair as he dozed off, head bowed.
Snoring, teeth grinding, talking in his sleep—George did it all!
It was enough to make anyone marvel at Gryffindor's unexpected mastery of ventriloquism.
Fred was even more shameless—his head had drooped onto Angelina's shoulder, inching downward bit by bit. Whether or not he was doing it on purpose was anyone's guess.
Angelina's face was calm, but her eyes gleamed with murderous intent—ready to smack Fred awake at any moment.
Harry, meanwhile, was sleeping soundly with his head resting on his Nimbus 1700. He must've skipped breakfast because he kept biting the broom's wood, making a loud crunching sound.
"Alright, team! Let's start training and test out the new strategy I just explained!" Wood's shout jolted everyone awake as he led them onto the pitch.
"They're out," Annie said excitedly as she and Hermione entered the Quidditch stands.
Ron and Colin were already there.
Colin Creevey, a first-year Gryffindor and an ardent Harry Potter fan, was snapping picture after picture with his camera.
Ron sat alone, looking disgruntled. He clearly didn't like Colin.
"Why are they starting so late?" Hermione asked. "Didn't Wood say he wanted to see what Hogwarts looked like at four in the morning?"
"Who knows what they're up to," Ron yawned. "I bet Wood made them sleep in the locker room."
This was a baseless accusation—though Harry and the others did nap all morning, Wood had remained wide awake, buzzing with excitement.
Gryffindor had barely begun warming up when the Slytherin team showed up.
"What's going on? Why is Slytherin here?" Ron said, narrowing his eyes. "It's Malfoy!"
Spotting his nemesis, Ron leapt off the stands and ran towards the pitch, with Annie and Hermione close behind.
"Flint!" Wood shouted at the Slytherin captain. "This is our training time! We woke up early for this! Get off our field!"
"Oh, Wood," Flint drawled with a smirk. "I don't think so. I've got a note signed by Professor Snape—we're here to train our new Seeker."
Flint waved the note in Wood's face.
"You've got a new Seeker?" Wood asked, momentarily distracted. "Who?"
Malfoy stepped out from behind the tall Slytherin players, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle. His pale, pointed face was alight with smug satisfaction.
"That's right. it's me."
Malfoy's gaze locked onto Harry's, and he licked his dry lips, his eyes burning with anticipation.
Finally.
Finally, he and Potter would be closer.
No longer separated by distance, they could now freely talk on the pitch and exchange Quidditch techniques.
During matches, they could chase each other through the air, their bodies colliding in heated pursuit on their broomsticks.
No need to worry about holding back.
Ron seemed to grasp this as well—his eyes darkened as he stared at Malfoy's Slytherin uniform.
He wanted to play Quidditch with Harry too!
Flint began bragging about the Nimbus 2001 brooms that Lucius Malfoy had donated. The seven sleek brooms glinted in the sunlight.
"Nimbus 1700? Hah, outdated junk! Only you lot would treasure that rubbish," Malfoy sneered. "Ever seen something this expensive?"
"At least no one on the Gryffindor team had to buy their way in," Hermione retorted sharply. "They made the team based on talent alone."
Malfoy's smug expression turned red with anger as he spat, "No one asked you, you filthy little Mudblood."
His words hit like a bomb.
Flint lunged in front of Malfoy to stop Fred and George from pouncing on him.
Alicia screamed, "How dare you!"
Wood took off his shoe, ready to hurl it at Malfoy.
Ron yanked out his wand, but Flint grabbed his arm just in time.
Amid the chaos, Annie slipped past the crowd, walked right up to Malfoy, and slapped him hard across the face.
Her voice was cold and sharp.
"Say it again. I dare you."
Malfoy was stunned, too dazed to react. When he finally tried to retaliate, Annie was quicker—her wand was already pressed against his chest, sparks crackling at the tip.
Malfoy stumbled back in panic. Annie wasn't finished—she stepped forward and delivered a swift kick to his stomach.
Malfoy collapsed, clutching his face with one hand and his stomach with the other, sobbing.
"My father—"
Annie raised her chin, defiant. "Your father? My brother is William Stark."
"If I hear you insult Hermione again, you'll get more than just a slap to the face."
Malfoy was speechless, utterly lost for words.