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November 1, 1972
7:15 am
Quidditch had become a sort of release for Asteria. Every morning, bright and early, she would meet Wood down at the pitch with her bat and her broom (Adonis had followed through with his promise and had owled Callie to purchase a brand new one for Asteria, which she cherished with all of her heart) and would spent hours bludgeoning the Bludgers expertly as Wood threw them at her. Her arms were growing stronger, the bat held in an iron grip as she sent the balls flying across the pitch. Wood had decided to teach her aim first, strength later. He believed that a well-aimed Bludger would do wonders to dispel the enemy, even if it was a weak hit. Asteria had always thought the opposite, but trusted Wood to know what he was talking about.
"You keep goin' at this rate, you'll be even better than me!" Wood exclaimed one early morning, when the sun had barely risen, the remnants of the night still present even as the ball of light began its ascension. "Jokin', as if. You'll definitely be better than Stewart, though, you're givin' him a run for his money."
Asteria beamed at the praise. "All because of you!"
"Little Lion, you flatter me too much," Wood grinned, sending her a playful wink. "But of course, you're right. I expect a letter of thanks from Thomas next year when we win the Quidditch Cup because of me trainin' you."
Asteria laughed once again, troubles momentarily forgotten as she zipped through the air with Wood. She was slowly adopting his mindset; with him, Quidditch came before everything. There was absolutely no time or reason to worry about anything else when she could channel all of her energy and misery into beating a ball across a field. It was a cathartic release, and probably much healthier than any other activities someone in her situation might indulge in. All things considered, beating a ball into the sky at seven in the morning was quite healthy.
"You're doin' great," Wood said, flying over to her with the Bludger clutched tightly in his arms. It squirmed in his grasp, but the Quidditch player wouldn't budge. "Now I want you to try knockin' me off my broom."
Asteria's eyes almost popped out of her sockets as she stared at him, bewildered. "I don't want to hurt you!" she exclaimed, shaking her head vehemently.
Wood sent her a glare that could put her six feet under.
"This is Quidditch!" he yelled, "People get hurt. If you don't, you're doing it wrong. Now take this damn ball and hit it at me!"
Not one to argue with the best player at Hogwarts - sure, she was biased, but you couldn't deny Wood's excellence on the field - Asteria prepared her bat as Wood flew closer to the ground (merely as a means of precaution, so if she did somehow succeed, he wouldn't break any important bones).
