Harry shook his head and said nothing more. Trying to reason with Ron was simply a waste of effort.
Soon, it was the last week of October. The temperature plummeted, and quite a few young witches and wizards who had not changed into warmer clothes in time came down with colds.
Long lines formed outside the hospital wing every day. But the Quidditch players still had to train in the freezing wind.
The first Quidditch match of the term was scheduled for the first weekend after Halloween, and the two sides were the same old rivals.
Slytherin and Gryffindor were practically bristling with hostility. Over the past few days, the pitch had basically been reserved by the two houses. Every practice session meant the grounds were closed off to outsiders.
Gryffindor's captain, Wood, had originally wanted to keep Harry as a secret weapon.
Unfortunately, he had forgotten about Ron, that "useless teammate." A couple of days ago, Ron had gotten into an argument with Malfoy and, in an effort to mock him, blurted out that Harry had joined the Quidditch team.
The news that he had become the youngest Seeker in over a century got out, and now the whole school knew.
When Wood found out, all he could do was sigh helplessly and console himself: at least no one knew how well Harry could fly. Their opponents would definitely underestimate him when the time came.
Tom had no interest whatsoever in Quidditch. It was the Chosen One's personal sport and had nothing to do with him.
Winning the Quidditch House Cup could earn plenty of points, sure, but he always felt that no matter how far ahead Slytherin pulled—
—an invisible hand would erase the gap in the end and let Gryffindor put on a performance of "the hero's