Your P.O.V.
McGonagall, Harry, and I are walking through the corridors. From what I can tell, we're heading to Quirrell's classroom.
I'm right.
"Wait here," McGonagall tells us.
Harry's fidgeting nervously. He probably thinks we're going to be expelled.
I disagree with that. McGonagall doesn't seem angry. More like... intrigued. Perhaps even excited.
"Excuse me, Professor Quirrell?" she says. "Could I borrow Wood for a moment?"
Harry gives me an alarmed look and I do my best not to laugh while I try to remember where I heard that name.
"Oh. Y-yes, of course," Professor Quirrell stutters.
A boy in Gryffindor robes comes back with McGonagall and I relax. She wouldn't need another student if we were being punished.
"Potter, Roberts, this is Oliver Wood. Wood, I have found you a seeker and a chaser!"
"That's how I know you!" I exclaim. "You're captain of Gryffindor's Quidditch team!"
"Correct," says Wood. "You're a bright one. Good memory it seems... How are you at strategy?"
"Not bad," I reply. "I've beaten a few people at muggle chess—which is basically wizard chess without the smashing—"
"She's brilliant," Harry interrupts. "At everything. And for someone with a fear of heights, she's an amazing flyer."
I blush.
"He's exaggerating," I mutter.
"She's being modest," he counters.
"But how would you know if I'm a good flyer? You were busy catching Neville's remembrall."
"I landed before you. I may have glasses but I can still see."
"You sure about that, Potter? Sometimes I'm not sure if you can—"
"I have to agree with Mr. Potter in this matter," McGonagall interjects. She knows we'll probably be at this all day if she doesn't stop us. "They're both excellent flyers. Good additions to the team."
"Great."
⚡️⚡️⚡️
"Hey, well done Harry, (y/n). Wood's just told us!" Fred says.
"Fred and George are on the team, too," Ron explains. "Beaters."
"Our job is to make sure you don't get bloodied up too bad. Can't make any promises, of course. Rough game, Quidditch," says George.
"Brutal. But no one's died in years. Someone'll disappear occasionally—"
"But they'll show up in a month or two!"
"That's comforting," I mutter sarcastically.
Fred and George break away and Harry's left contemplating terrible ways to die in Quidditch while Ron and I discuss the other people on the team.
"Oh, go on, Harry. Quidditch is great. Best game there is! And you'll be great, too!" Ron encourages.
"But I've never even played Quidditch!" Harry insists.
"Neither have I," I remind him.
"But you're good at everything! You get over 100% on every quiz I'll be lucky if I pass final exams! What if I make a fool of myself?"
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𝗦𝗰𝗮𝗿-𝗖𝗿𝗼𝘀𝘀𝗲𝗱 𝗟𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘀 - 𝗬𝗲𝗮𝗿 𝗢𝗻𝗲
FanfictionYou live in an orphanage. According to the people who run it, your parents died in a car crash when you were only a year old. One day, a man comes claiming he is a Professor at a magic school called Hogwarts. He says his name is Dumbledore. What wil...
