When someone had something on their mind, time either passed especially quickly or especially slowly. Harry
Potter's day clearly fell into the former category. Like a toy on a factory assembly line, he went from sandwiches at breakfast to creamy mushrooms at lunch-and then it was afternoon.
His first-ever date was tonight, and it was with a girl he had never exchanged a single word with. This fact surfaced in Harry Potter's head again during afternoon Potions class like some sinister incantation, as though someone had cast Prior Incantato on it.
Just because the girl I have a crush on started going out with another boy, I'm going on a date with another girl I don't even know. Isn't something this stupid incredibly disrespectful to her? And will it even work? Harry Potter questioned himself again.
Back on the Quidditch pitch, Wood had said this might help him recover from his romantic slump. Harry had actually thought it was an absurd idea even then and had intended to refuse, but before he could speak, he had thought of the upcoming Quidditch match. What if this method worked?
And so, as though possessed, he had nodded his agreement, and for quite some time, he had thought it was a good thing. As for now, of course he regretted it.
After washing up last night, Harry had started thinking that his nod on the Quidditch pitch had been the worst decision he had made all year. He wanted to back out, but Wood had already explained the date to the girl. Breaking the arrangement now would only make an already messy situation worse-
"Why did I agree to Wood's idea? What am I supposed to say tonight? What should I prepare? Ugh-" Harry Potter's thoughts were in disarray, and naturally, his hands