After repeatedly assuring Wood that he would wash up and come down right away, Harry sent him off, then shiveringly climbed out of bed. He glanced enviously at Ron, who was sleeping like a dead pig and had not been woken even by Wood's loud voice, before starting to search for his team robes.
In the Scottish Highlands, early autumn dawns were as cold as winter.
Of course, what made Harry feel even "colder" was the sudden realization, while brushing his teeth, that today's training might become the norm for many Saturdays over the next year—
Damn it!
Harry began to miss the days when Vaughn had still been on the Slytherin team.
Back then, although the Gryffindor team had been relentlessly thrashed by Vaughn and everyone was devastated after every loss, Wood was usually more despondent than anyone else.
When it rained, he would soak by himself beneath the downpour. When it did not, he would sit alone on the pitch grass, quietly licking his wounds.
Sad Wood was certainly pitiful, but at least he did not torment everyone else.
Once he had finished getting ready, Harry headed to the pitch. Before he even entered the changing room, he heard Wood's pep talk from afar. "—This is our most promising year yet. Slytherin has lost Vaughn; Weasley, but Harry Potter is still on our team. We have the youngest and best Seeker—"
Naturally, the twins' heckling was mixed into that feverish voice. "Possibly the shortest Seeker too. Wood, I heard children need plenty of sleep to grow taller. If you keep dragging Harry out to train before dawn, he'll definitely want to kill you in ten years."
"Nonsense, Fred—"
"I'm George!"
"All right, George—"
"Bullshit, I'm George!"
As expected, an argument broke out inside. The twins always had a