At breakfast, at the Gryffindor table.
Harry struggled to pick up a piece of bread, took a bite, and chewed for ages without being able to swallow it. After that one attempt, he gave up, set the bread back on his plate, and listlessly scraped at it with his knife and fork.
Anyone could see how dejected Harry looked. It was as though black fumes were slowly rising off him.
"Eat something, Harry," Ron said, unable to stand the sight any longer.
"Ugh..." Harry let out a long sigh and repeated the same motion, forcing himself to bite into the bread and chewing for ages before finally swallowing.
It was too hard to work up an appetite in this state. Harry gave up, took a sip of hot milk, and said, "There are three classes today, three assignments, and Quidditch training tonight. Just thinking about it makes me feel like I can't breathe."
Hermione tried to ease some of Harry's pressure. "Professor Sprout's assignment won't be much. Flitwick and Professor Binns usually give us until the following week to hand theirs in. Relax a little, Harry."
"Mm-mm-mm, you can use my homework as a reference." Loren spoke unclearly with his mouth stuffed full.
The sight of him like that made Hermione's hands itch.
His friends' concern made Harry feel a little better, and he no longer felt quite so suffocated. "It's not just the homework. There's Quidditch too. I'm only a beginner, but Wood has pinned his hopes for victory on me. I... I don't even know what a real match is like yet."
Harry could not continue. Training had gone smoothly, and he had felt good during it, but this was still his first match. There was no way not to be nervous.
"Then you're in luck."
Loren swallowed