Saturday morning.
Harry and the Weasley twins had just finished their morning run and were about to head back for a nap when the energetic captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch Team, Oliver Wood, stopped them.
"No need to go back to the Castle. I've already had someone bring your flying broomsticks to the Quidditch Pitch..."
George and Fred groaned:
"No, Oliver, you can't do this!"
"I rushed out so early this morning that I haven't even said goodbye to my dear little bed."
Harry opened his mouth, but when he saw Oliver's earnest, serious expression, he said nothing in the end.
Beside him, Ron patted Harry on the shoulder and said with glee:
"Don't worry. Leave putting up the notices to Hermione and me. You're Oliver's precious darling. He definitely won't let you off."
Wood turned and fixed Harry with a fierce, proud gaze:
"Ron's right. Harry, you're the best Seeker there is."
Then he immediately turned to George and Fred:
"Of course, you two are unbeatable Beaters too."
George and Fred promptly pretended to blush and said in unison:
"Merlin's beard, Oliver, you're making us blush."
Wood solemnly patted all three on the shoulders and said with tragic resolve:
"Gryffindor hasn't won in seven years. I'll be leaving at the end of this school year. There won't be another chance.
"This is our... my last chance to win the Quidditch Cup.
"I worked out some new tactics over the summer.
"We'll definitely beat them this year, even if they have the latest flying broomsticks.
"So you'll help me, won't you?"
Hearing such stirring, tragic words from a tall, imposing fellow suddenly fired them up too, and they all nodded in agreement.
Then Hermione dragged Ron away from the lawn. They needed to hurry and put the Hogwarts Magical Detective