Chapter Eleven
Oliver Wood, the fifth year old Gryffindor house captain, gazed at Harry Potter. 'Quidditch is for those who are good, Potter. My father was good at the wizard sport, with James Potter, who was seeker. Lily Evans came to the games. James was smitten with her, and there was talk that their son, you, would be able to achieve greatness; Quidditch is not for the weak. Players are hurt. And some games are short; some are three days. There's the Quaffle; there's Beaters; and the Golden Snitch. Seekers who catch the ball with wings get 150 points, and the win for the side. Hogwarts have been good for me, as a wizard who loves sport. I don't know much about Muggle sports', he said.
'We play football in London, England', Harry said.
'I see. Look, just get the Golden Snitch, and everything will play out. Marcus Flint, the Slytherin Captain, cheats. And he is evil'.
'It's going to be fine', Harry said.
'Good. Now, let's practice. Afterwards, we can have a feast in the Hall, before everyone attends classes tomorrow', Oliver Wood said.
And Harry nodded.
He was part of the Gryffindor House team, and he wouldn't let them down.
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