Angelina was beginning to regret encouraging him.
Not because Adam was particularly dangerous. At least, not yet. The first-year was still slower than her, and his technique remained rough around the edges. But there was something increasingly irritating about the way he kept improving.
Every time she tried something new, he learned from it.
Every time she caught him off guard, he made sure it didn't happen the same way twice.
And worst of all, he had started smiling.
Not nervously.
Not awkwardly.
He was actually enjoying himself.
Angelina exchanged a glance with Alicia as they circled above the pitch. Katie, who had been watching Adam with growing amusement, flew over to join them.
"He's getting annoying," Angelina muttered.
Alicia grinned. "You sound offended."
"I am offended."
Katie glanced down at Adam, who was currently attempting to follow Fred and George through a particularly complicated series of turns.
"Maybe you should stop giving him opportunities to learn."
Angelina looked at her.
Katie smiled innocently.
"Oh, shut up."
Below them, Adam finally abandoned his attempt to imitate the twins and concentrated on the three girls instead. Fred and George were entertaining, but their flying was unpredictable enough to make learning from them a particularly exhausting experience. Besides, he had already decided that Angelina, Alicia and Katie were the ones he wanted to catch.
Not that he would admit that aloud.
He had a reputation to maintain.
A reputation that currently consisted of being a first-year who had spent most of the morning cleaning brooms.
It wasn't much, but he was determined to improve it.
"Adam!" George shouted from somewhere above him.
Adam looked up.
"You're doing it wrong!"
Fred appeared beside his brother, nodding solemnly. "Terribly wrong."
Adam narrowed his eyes. "Then show me how it's done."
The twins exchanged delighted glances.
"Oh, he asked for it," Fred declared.
"He's definitely one of us," George agreed.
Before Adam could reconsider his decision, both twins accelerated away. They flew in opposite directions before suddenly curving back toward each other, crossing paths at the last possible moment before separating again.
Adam watched carefully.
The maneuver looked simple enough.
He tried it.
For approximately three seconds, everything went perfectly.
Then he realized he had misjudged the angle.
His broom dipped sharply, and he had to correct his balance before he could recover. He emerged from the maneuver several meters lower than intended, his hair thoroughly disheveled.
Fred doubled over laughing.
George nearly lost control of his broom.
"Brilliant!" Fred called.
"Absolutely magnificent!" George added.
Adam glared at them.
"I hate both of you."
"That's the spirit!" Fred shouted back.
Angelina, Alicia and Katie had witnessed the entire thing. Their laughter carried across the pitch, and Adam's expression immediately darkened.
He had made a mistake.
Fine.
Mistakes were part of learning.
But he was absolutely not going to let three older girls and a pair of professional nuisances laugh at him without consequences.
He climbed again, steadied his broom and returned his attention to the three Chasers.
This time, however, they had something else in mind.
Angelina approached first, flying toward him from the right. Adam immediately prepared to turn, but she changed direction before he could react. Alicia appeared from the opposite side a moment later, forcing him to adjust again. Before he had finished correcting his position, Katie swept past from above.
Three directions.
Three different approaches.
And absolutely no intention of making things easy for him.
Adam managed to avoid colliding with any of them, but by the time he regained his position, all three girls were already several meters away.
"Getting slow, Taylor!" Katie called.
Adam's eyes narrowed.
"Getting predictable, Johnson!"
Katie's mouth fell open.
Alicia immediately burst out laughing.
Angelina turned around so quickly that her broom nearly wobbled.
"Oh, he did not just say that."
Adam smiled.
He absolutely had.
For a moment the three girls simply stared at him.
Then Katie grinned.
"All right."
Alicia cracked her knuckles theatrically while still holding her broom with one hand.
"Let's teach him some manners."
Angelina's smile widened.
"Gladly."
From the sidelines, Oliver glanced up from his notebook.
He had initially expected the older players to give the two first-years a little harmless teasing. It was a perfectly normal part of getting comfortable around teammates, provided everyone remained sensible.
Unfortunately, sensible was not a word he would have used to describe Fred and George.
And now the girls appeared to have joined them.
Oliver watched Adam climb higher while the three Chasers spread out around him.
He sighed.
This was going to become a problem.
Probably.
He returned to his notes.
After all, the boys were still flying safely, and the girls were experienced enough to know their limits.
He would intervene if necessary.
For now, he wanted to see how the first-years handled themselves.
Above the pitch, Adam was about to discover that insulting three older Gryffindor girls had consequences.
Angelina approached from his left.
Adam anticipated the movement and shifted away.
Alicia immediately appeared behind him.
He twisted his broom, narrowly avoiding her.
Then Katie came diving from above.
Adam dropped sharply, allowing her to pass overhead before pulling up again.
For a moment he felt triumphant.
He had avoided all three.
Then something lightly struck the back of his head.
Smack.
Adam froze.
Not literally, of course. He was still moving through the air, and stopping completely would have been a rather poor decision.
But his mind certainly did.
He turned around.
Angelina was already several meters away, laughing so hard that she had trouble keeping her broom straight.
Adam stared at her in disbelief.
"Did you just hit me?"
Angelina looked over her shoulder.
"Did I?"
"You absolutely did!"
"Must have been the wind!"
Alicia nearly fell off her broom laughing.
Katie was no better.
Adam looked from one girl to another, trying to determine which of them had actually done it.
That turned out to be a mistake.
Because while he was busy looking at Angelina, Alicia swept past his other side.
Smack.
Adam's head jerked forward slightly.
He immediately spun around.
Alicia was already escaping, laughing triumphantly.
"Oh, come on!"
Fred and George had noticed what was happening.
The twins exchanged a look.
Then, with the synchronized expressions of two people who had just discovered the greatest entertainment imaginable, they began flying closer.
"What's happening?" Fred called.
"Has Adam offended the Chasers?" George asked.
"He appears to have made a terrible mistake!"
"Perhaps he insulted their flying!"
"Perhaps he insulted their hair!"
"Perhaps he insulted their intelligence!"
Angelina shouted something incomprehensible at them.
The twins immediately began laughing harder.
Adam, meanwhile, was beginning to understand the situation.
The girls weren't trying to beat him in a race.
They weren't trying to force him into difficult maneuvers.
They were deliberately approaching from his blind spots and smacking the back of his head before escaping.
It was ridiculous.
It was childish.
It was—
Smack.
Adam's thoughts abruptly stopped again.
Katie had just passed behind him.
She looked delighted with herself.
Adam slowly turned his head.
Katie waved cheerfully.
"Hello!"
Something inside him snapped.
Not completely.
Not violently.
But enough.
"All right," Adam muttered.
He adjusted his grip on the broom and looked toward the three girls.
"You want to play?"
Angelina heard him and grinned.
"Oh, he wants to play!"
Alicia immediately joined her.
"Then let's play!"
Katie laughed.
"Try to keep up, Taylor!"
The three girls accelerated away.
Adam followed.
For the next several minutes, the Quidditch pitch became a rather unusual training ground.
Angelina would approach from one side, forcing Adam to turn before Alicia appeared from another direction. Katie would then dive past him, occasionally reaching out to tap the back of his head before disappearing into the air above him.
Adam tried to retaliate.
At first, he failed spectacularly.
He turned too slowly.
He misjudged distances.
He committed to movements too early, allowing the girls to change direction and escape before he could reach them.
Every failed attempt was rewarded with another round of laughter.
And, occasionally, another smack.
Harry, who had been flying a short distance away, watched the entire spectacle with growing disbelief.
He was beginning to understand why Adam had looked so offended.
It wasn't particularly pleasant to have someone suddenly appear behind you and hit the back of your head.
Still, watching Adam repeatedly spin around in search of his attackers was undeniably funny.
Harry laughed.
Then Adam looked directly at him.
Harry immediately stopped.
"Sorry!"
Adam gave him a look that promised they would discuss this later.
Harry decided that learning to fly was suddenly much more important than getting involved in whatever was happening between Adam and the girls.
He drifted toward the edge of the pitch and concentrated on his own movements.
Unlike Adam, Harry wasn't particularly interested in winning.
He simply wanted to become better.
And the more he flew, the more naturally everything began to fall into place.
He started paying attention to how the older players leaned before turning, how they shifted their weight during dives and how they adjusted their speed when approaching another flyer. He experimented with small changes in direction, gradually becoming more comfortable with the broom beneath him.
Every mistake taught him something.
Every successful maneuver made the next one easier.
Oliver noticed.
The captain had been watching Adam's increasingly desperate attempts to retaliate, but Harry's quiet progress caught his attention as well.
The boy wasn't doing anything particularly spectacular.
He wasn't attempting dangerous dives or showing off.
He was simply observing everyone around him and incorporating what he saw into his own flying.
And he was improving remarkably quickly.
Oliver made a small note in his notebook.
Potter: excellent natural instincts. Learns quickly through observation.
Then he looked back toward Adam.
Taylor: analytical approach. Strong competitive drive. Adapts rapidly under pressure.
Oliver paused.
Then he added another note.
Both worth watching.
Above him, Fred suddenly shouted, "Incoming!"
Oliver looked up.
Adam was accelerating toward Angelina.
The girl glanced over her shoulder and immediately grinned.
"Oh, you're getting brave!"
Adam didn't answer.
He was concentrating.
Angelina had a habit of approaching from his right before changing direction at the last moment. Alicia preferred coming from behind, while Katie often used height to her advantage.
He had spent the last several minutes watching them.
He had failed repeatedly.
But he was beginning to recognize their habits.
This time, when Angelina moved to change direction, Adam anticipated it.
He shifted his broom, accelerated and came alongside her.
For one glorious second, he thought he had finally caught her.
Then Angelina leaned away and slipped past him.
Adam's hand missed her by several inches.
Angelina burst out laughing.
"Almost!"
She accelerated away.
Adam stared after her.
Then he smiled.
Almost.
That was progress.
He climbed higher and began another turn.
He wasn't going to catch them by chasing blindly.
He needed to anticipate where they would be rather than where they were.
The realization changed everything.
The next time Alicia approached from behind, Adam didn't turn immediately. Instead, he waited until the last possible moment, then rolled slightly to the side and changed his height.
Alicia passed beneath him.
Adam dropped after her.
For a moment, both were moving in the same direction.
Then Adam reached out and gave the back of her head a quick, harmless tap.
Smack.
Alicia's eyes widened.
Adam immediately pulled away before they could collide.
For half a second, nobody reacted.
Then Katie let out a delighted shriek.
"HE GOT YOU!"
Fred nearly fell off his broom.
George clutched his stomach.
Angelina looked at Alicia.
Alicia looked at Adam.
Adam, meanwhile, was grinning so broadly that his cheeks hurt.
He had done it.
He had actually managed to hit one of them back.
"That," Adam announced triumphantly, "was for the last four!"
Alicia stared at him in disbelief.
Then her expression slowly changed.
"Oh."
Katie began laughing even harder.
Angelina's grin widened.
"Oh, this is going to be fun."
Adam's smile faltered slightly.
For the first time since the chase began, he wondered whether he had made a terrible mistake.
Then Angelina accelerated toward him.
He immediately decided that worrying about it could wait.
Because the remaining time was going to be interesting.
By the time Oliver finally blew his whistle to end practice, the sun had begun sinking behind the stands, casting long shadows across the Quidditch pitch.
The players gradually descended, some looking exhausted, others still discussing particular moments from the afternoon. Harry landed near the edge of the pitch, looking considerably more comfortable on his broom than he had an hour earlier.
Adam, meanwhile, landed beside Angelina, Alicia and Katie. He looked perfectly pleased with himself, which, considering the afternoon he'd had, was frankly astonishing.
Angelina dismounted and turned toward him, folding her arms.
"You know, for someone who spent the first half of the afternoon nearly crashing into everyone, you certainly became confident."
Adam placed his broom against the equipment shed and shrugged. "I adapted."
"You got hit twenty-three times," Angelina reminded him.
"And I hit you five times," Adam replied.
Angelina stared at him. "You're seriously using that as a defence?"
"Of course. Five is a perfectly respectable number for my first day."
Alicia burst out laughing. "Respectable? You spent most of the afternoon spinning around trying to work out who'd hit you!"
"That was part of the learning process," Adam insisted.
Katie tilted her head innocently. "Was getting hit part of it too?"
Adam considered the question for a moment. "Apparently."
The three girls laughed, and Adam sighed as though he were the only sensible person surrounded by complete lunatics.
Unfortunately for him, Fred and George had overheard the conversation.
The twins immediately exchanged a look. It was the sort of look that usually meant somebody was about to have a very unpleasant afternoon.
"Actually," Fred announced, stepping forward, "I believe we should settle this properly."
George nodded solemnly. "With statistics."
Adam's expression changed. "No."
"Yes," Fred replied cheerfully.
"Absolutely not," Adam insisted.
George had already produced a small piece of parchment from somewhere inside his robes.
Adam stared at it. "Why do you have that?"
George looked offended. "Why wouldn't I?"
"Why would you need parchment to record how many times someone gets hit on the back of the head?"
Fred clapped a hand on his brother's shoulder. "Because, Adam, history deserves to be remembered."
"And because," George added, unfolding the parchment, "this has been the most entertaining practice session we've had in weeks."
Angelina, Alicia and Katie immediately gathered around George to see what he had written.
Adam looked toward Harry, who had just landed nearby. The two first-years exchanged a glance, silently communicating their shared regret at ever having accepted Oliver's invitation.
George cleared his throat dramatically.
"Right. First, Angelina Johnson versus Adam Taylor!"
Angelina grinned and folded her arms. Adam straightened, determined to look as though he hadn't been dreading this announcement.
"Go on, then," Adam said.
George consulted his parchment. "Angelina landed twenty-three hits on Adam."
Fred raised a finger. "And Adam managed to land five on Angelina."
Angelina turned toward Adam with a smug smile. "That's quite a difference."
Adam shrugged. "You've been flying for years longer than I have."
"Excuses," Angelina replied cheerfully.
"An explanation," Adam corrected. "There's a difference."
Fred ignored their argument and continued reading from George's parchment.
"Next, Katie Bell versus Adam Taylor!"
Katie leaned forward expectantly, looking rather pleased with herself.
George glanced at the parchment. "Katie landed twenty-one hits."
"Seven for Adam," Fred announced. "That's two more than he managed against Angelina."
Katie's smile widened. "Seven? That's actually more than I expected."
Adam looked at her. "You're welcome."
Katie blinked. "What?"
"For allowing you to feel good about yourself."
Fred made a strangled noise and doubled over laughing. George bent forward, clutching the parchment as though he needed it to remain upright.
Katie stared at Adam for a moment before breaking into laughter herself.
"Oh, you're going to regret that tomorrow," she warned him.
Adam's smile faltered. He was beginning to suspect that tomorrow was going to be considerably worse than today.
"Finally," George continued, still grinning, "Alicia Spinnet versus Adam Taylor!"
Alicia folded her arms, looking rather pleased with herself.
George checked the parchment one last time. "Alicia landed eighteen hits."
Fred paused dramatically before announcing, "And Adam landed three."
Alicia beamed. "Three! That's almost embarrassing."
Adam looked at her. "Almost?"
"Well, I suppose you did manage to hit me back," Alicia conceded.
"Exactly," Adam replied.
"Three times," Alicia reminded him.
"Still counts."
Alicia shook her head, laughing.
Fred stepped back and surveyed the group as though he had just finished presenting the results of an international sporting event.
"So, to summarise," Fred announced, "Angelina wins twenty-three to five, Katie wins twenty-one to seven, and Alicia wins eighteen to three."
George nodded gravely. "An overwhelming victory for the Chasers."
"And a surprisingly stubborn performance from the first-year," Fred added.
Adam raised a finger. "Thank you."
George looked at him. "That wasn't entirely a compliment."
"I'll take what I can get."
Harry had been trying to contain his laughter throughout the entire announcement, but that finally proved impossible. He turned away, his shoulders shaking.
Adam noticed immediately.
"Oh, very funny," Adam said, glaring at his friend.
Harry struggled to compose himself. "I'm sorry!"
"No, you're not," Adam replied.
Harry hesitated before admitting, "No, I'm really not."
Adam sighed and looked back at the three girls.
"All right, fine. You won," he conceded.
Angelina lifted an eyebrow. "Won?"
"Yes. Congratulations. You managed to hit a first-year considerably more often than he managed to hit you. A truly historic achievement."
Alicia laughed so hard that she had to lean against Katie, who was grinning from ear to ear.
"You know," Katie said, "most people would simply admit that they're outmatched."
"Most people," Adam replied, picking up his broom, "haven't spent an entire day learning from their mistakes."
Angelina's expression shifted slightly.
For all the teasing, she had noticed the same thing Oliver had. Adam had improved. Not enough to compete with any of them properly, of course; the difference in experience was still obvious. But he'd stopped blindly following their movements, and by the end of practice, he'd begun anticipating some of their approaches.
More importantly, getting hit hadn't made him give up.
If anything, it had made him more determined.
Angelina smiled at him. "You know, Taylor, you're not completely hopeless."
Adam looked at her suspiciously. "Was that a compliment?"
"Don't get used to it," Angelina replied.
Alicia gave Adam a friendly pat on the shoulder. "Besides, you still have plenty to learn."
"And plenty of opportunities to get hit," Katie added brightly.
Adam looked between the three girls.
"I really should have spent my weekend reading," he muttered.
Fred threw an arm around George's shoulders.
"But then you'd never have discovered your talent for getting hit!" Fred exclaimed.
"Or your incredible ability to keep coming back for more," George added.
Adam pointed at the twins. "Both of you are on my list."
Fred looked delighted. "Brilliant! I've always wanted to be on someone's list."
George tilted his head thoughtfully. "What's the penalty?"
Adam considered the question before answering.
"Fifteen brooms. Full maintenance. Individual inspection forms."
The twins' smiles vanished.
For the first time that afternoon, Adam felt genuinely victorious.
Angelina laughed as she picked up her broom. "Come on, you two. We'd better get going."
Alicia and Katie followed her toward the changing rooms, still discussing the afternoon's events. Fred and George went with them, already arguing over whether Adam's stubbornness or his complete inability to recognise when he was outmatched had made the afternoon more entertaining.
Harry waited until the older students were a little farther away before turning to Adam.
"You know they're going to keep teasing you about this, right?" Harry asked.
Adam looked toward the departing girls. "Yes."
"And you're going to try to hit them back again if they do it tomorrow?"
"Obviously," Adam replied.
Harry shook his head, smiling. "You really are strange."
Adam picked up his broom and started toward the equipment shed. "Coming from you, I'll take that as a compliment."
The two first-years still had work to finish before Oliver would let them leave. Several pieces of equipment needed putting away, and the reserve brooms had to be returned to their proper places.
Harry glanced at the row of brooms waiting for them.
"Do you think he'll find something else for us to do after this?" he asked.
Adam followed his gaze and sighed. "Harry, I've spent the entire day learning that a broom apparently needs more paperwork than a Ministry official. Never underestimate Oliver Wood."
As if summoned by the mention of his name, Oliver appeared beside the equipment shed with his notebook tucked beneath one arm.
"Taylor. Potter."
Both boys turned.
"Yes, Oliver?" Harry asked cautiously.
"Make sure those brooms are properly stored before you leave," Oliver instructed. "And check the equipment inventory against the list on the table. I don't want anything missing tomorrow."
Adam stared at him.
"Tomorrow?"
Oliver looked at him as though he'd asked a ridiculous question.
"Your detention continues tomorrow, doesn't it?"
Harry's shoulders slumped.
"Right," he muttered. "Of course it does."
Oliver glanced toward the pitch, where the last few players were collecting their equipment. Then he looked back at the notes he'd made during practice.
Three experienced Chasers had spent a considerable portion of the afternoon trying to outmanoeuvre a first-year who had only recently begun flying around other players. The first-year had been hit repeatedly, had failed more times than he could count, and had nevertheless continued adapting until he managed to land a few hits of his own.
Oliver tapped his quill against the parchment.
Spatial awareness. Reaction time. Anticipation. Evasive manoeuvres.
He considered the possibilities.
Then, slowly, a smile appeared on his face.
Perhaps there was something worth keeping from today's chaos.
"Potter, Taylor," Oliver called as the boys began moving the equipment. "I want you both here at the same time tomorrow morning. We'll continue with the assigned work, and I may have something else for you to observe."
Adam stopped.
"Something else?"
Oliver smiled innocently. "You'll find out tomorrow."
Harry looked at Adam.
Adam looked at Harry.
Neither boy liked the sound of that.
Behind them, Fred and George's laughter carried across the pitch as they disappeared into the changing rooms.
Adam picked up another broom and muttered, "I'm starting to think detention was designed specifically to ruin my life."
Harry picked up the next broom.
"At least you got to fly."
Adam paused, considered that, and sighed. "That's the worst part. Now I can't even complain properly."
Sunday morning arrived beneath a sky that looked considerably less inviting than it had the previous day.
Dark clouds hung low over the distant hills, and a chilly breeze swept across the Hogwarts grounds. The grass was still damp with morning dew, and the air carried the faint smell of rain.
Adam noticed none of this until he stepped outside the Great Hall with Harry. He was too busy regretting his life choices.
"Another day," Harry muttered miserably as they crossed the grounds.
"Another day," Adam agreed.
"Another day of broom inspections, equipment cleaning, and Oliver telling us things we never wanted to know," Harry continued.
"Yesterday, I learned that brooms have maintenance records," Adam replied.
Harry glanced at him. "I still don't understand why."
"Neither do I. But apparently, the condition of a broom's bindings is a matter of great national importance."
Harry snorted.
For a few moments, the two walked in silence, their shoes crunching against the gravel path.
Then Harry glanced sideways at Adam.
"Do you think the girls will try hitting you again today?" Harry asked.
Adam considered the question. "Probably."
"And you're going to try hitting them back?" Harry asked.
"Obviously," Adam replied.
Harry shook his head. "You know you could just avoid them."
Adam looked at him as though he'd suggested something deeply unreasonable.
"Harry, they've established a score. I can't leave that unfinished."
"You lost by a lot," Harry pointed out.
"Thank you for the encouragement."
"I'm just saying."
"And I'm just choosing not to listen."
Harry laughed, and for the first time that morning, Adam felt slightly better about the day ahead.
At least he had someone to share his suffering with.
Unfortunately, their destination soon came into view: the Quidditch pitch.
Standing outside the equipment shed with a clipboard in his hands was Oliver Wood.
Adam slowed.
Harry slowed.
They exchanged a look.
Oliver spotted them almost immediately.
"Excellent! You're both here," Oliver called out.
Harry sighed quietly.
Adam muttered, "He says that as if we've arrived for a holiday."
Oliver approached them, looking as energetic as he had the previous morning.
"Right. We've got quite a bit to do before the team starts practice. The reserve brooms need another quick inspection, the equipment inventory needs checking, and I want the storage shed properly organised," Oliver explained.
Adam stared at him.
"Another inspection?"
Oliver nodded. "Of course."
"But we inspected them yesterday," Adam protested.
"Yes, and now we'll check that everything has been returned correctly," Oliver explained patiently.
Harry looked toward the equipment shed, then back at Oliver.
"Couldn't someone else do that?" Harry asked.
Oliver considered the question for approximately half a second.
"No."
He turned and walked toward the shed.
Harry watched him go.
"That was a very short discussion," Harry remarked.
Adam picked up the clipboard Oliver had left on the table.
"At least he didn't give us another lecture about enchantments."
From inside the shed, Oliver immediately called, "Speaking of enchantments, Taylor, remind me to explain why storage conditions can affect broom performance!"
Adam slowly closed his eyes.
Harry patted him sympathetically on the shoulder.
"Never mind," Harry said.
"Don't," Adam warned him.
Harry blinked. "Don't what?"
"Look sympathetic. It makes this worse."
Harry grinned and followed him into the shed.
The morning passed in a familiar blur of chores.
They checked the reserve brooms, verified the equipment inventory, cleaned several pieces of equipment, and reorganised the storage shelves. Oliver inspected their work with the same seriousness he had shown the previous day, occasionally stopping to explain why something needed to be done differently.
To Adam's considerable annoyance, he was beginning to understand why the captain was so particular.
Quidditch equipment took a great deal of punishment. Brooms needed to remain balanced, bindings had to stay secure, and even minor damage could become a problem if left unattended.
It made sense.
That didn't mean Adam had to enjoy hearing about it.
By late morning, the equipment shed was organised, the reserve brooms had been checked, and the inventory had finally been completed.
Oliver examined the paperwork, nodded with satisfaction, and placed it on the table.
"Good work. You've both improved considerably at this," Oliver said.
Harry blinked.
"At inspecting brooms?" Harry asked.
"At following instructions," Oliver clarified.
Adam gave him a flat look.
"That's a wonderful compliment."
Oliver ignored the sarcasm.
"The team will be arriving shortly. Once they're here, I want you to help bring out the practice equipment and make sure everything is ready," Oliver instructed.
Harry glanced toward the sky.
"Are we going to be outside all day?" Harry asked.
"Most likely," Oliver replied.
A gust of wind swept across the pitch, sending a few loose leaves skittering over the grass.
Oliver looked up at the clouds. His expression briefly became thoughtful before he turned back toward the boys.
"We'll see how the weather holds," Oliver said.
Adam followed his gaze.
For some reason, that answer didn't reassure him.
---
By midday, the Gryffindor team had assembled, and the pitch had transformed into a busy training ground.
Harry and Adam carried the equipment out of the shed while Oliver organised the players. Quaffles were placed near the starting area, Bludgers were checked and prepared, and the team members mounted their brooms.
This time, however, Oliver's instructions were different.
Yesterday's session had involved individual exercises and general flying practice. Today, the team was working on coordinated manoeuvres.
Adam noticed the change almost immediately.
The Chasers were practising passing sequences, moving the Quaffle between them while changing direction and height. Rather than simply flying toward the goalposts, they were learning to maintain possession while responding to the movements of their teammates and opponents.
The Beaters were practising their timing, coordinating their movements as they redirected Bludgers away from the Chasers.
Meanwhile, the Keeper was positioned in front of the goal hoops, watching the developing plays and adjusting his position as the Quaffle moved around the pitch.
It was considerably more complicated than Adam had expected.
From the ground, Quidditch had always looked like a chaotic collection of people flying around while attempting to score.
Now he could see that there was a great deal more to it.
Every movement affected someone else.
A Chaser accelerating toward the goal could force the Keeper to adjust his position. A Beater redirecting a Bludger could disrupt a passing sequence. Even a player who wasn't carrying the Quaffle could influence the entire formation simply by changing direction at the right moment.
Harry stood beside him, watching just as intently.
"I didn't realise there was so much going on," Harry admitted.
Adam nodded. "Neither did I."
Above them, Angelina received a pass from Alicia, turned sharply to avoid a defender, and sent the Quaffle toward Katie.
Katie caught it cleanly and accelerated toward the hoops.
The Keeper shifted left.
At the last moment, Katie passed the Quaffle back to Angelina, who had positioned herself on the opposite side.
Angelina shot.
The Quaffle sailed through the middle hoop.
Oliver blew his whistle.
"Better! But your timing was off. Katie, you committed too early. If the defender had reacted faster, you'd have lost possession before making the pass," Oliver called.
Katie circled back toward the others.
"Understood!" Katie called back.
Oliver pointed toward Alicia.
"And you need to give Angelina more room. You were too close to her when she received the Quaffle," Oliver instructed.
Alicia nodded. "All right!"
Oliver raised his whistle again.
"Reset! Let's do it properly this time!"
The players returned to their starting positions.
Adam watched them carefully.
He was beginning to understand why Oliver took Quidditch so seriously. It wasn't simply about flying quickly or throwing a ball through a hoop. The players had to anticipate one another's movements, recognise opportunities, and make decisions within seconds.
There was an entire system beneath the apparent chaos.
And Oliver Wood seemed determined to make sure every member of his team understood it.
Harry, meanwhile, was watching the flyers with an expression of quiet fascination.
"Look at that," Harry murmured.
Adam followed his gaze.
One of the Chasers had just changed direction before receiving a pass, creating enough space to move around a defender.
Harry's eyes followed the player's movement.
"If she hadn't moved before the pass, the other player would have blocked her," Harry observed.
Adam glanced at him.
"Exactly."
Harry looked pleased that he'd worked it out.
Adam returned his attention to the pitch, mentally tracing the sequence of movements.
He could see why Oliver insisted that flying with other people was different from flying alone. A player had to pay attention not only to their own position, but also to the positions of everyone around them.
And that was before the Bludgers entered the equation.
A loud crack interrupted his thoughts.
One of the Beaters had struck a Bludger toward a designated target, sending it hurtling across the pitch. Another player moved to intercept it, redirecting it away from the Chasers.
Fred and George were laughing as they circled back toward their starting positions.
"Beautifully done!" Fred called to his brother.
"Your definition of beautiful needs work!" Oliver shouted back.
George looked offended.
"That was a perfectly respectable hit!" George protested.
"It was supposed to be a controlled hit!" Oliver shouted.
"It was controlled!" George insisted.
"Then control it in the direction I asked for!" Oliver called back.
Harry laughed.
Adam shook his head.
"At least Oliver has his priorities straight," Adam remarked.
Harry glanced at him. "Which are?"
"Quidditch. Everything else is apparently optional," Adam replied.
Harry nodded thoughtfully.
"That sounds about right."
As the afternoon progressed, the practice became more demanding.
Oliver divided the team into smaller groups, having them repeat passing sequences while the others acted as defenders. The players were expected to react to changing situations rather than simply memorise a set of movements.
Adam and Harry remained on the ground, retrieving equipment whenever necessary and watching the drills whenever Oliver didn't need them for something else.
It was frustrating, particularly when the players launched themselves into fast, sweeping turns that made Adam wish he could join them.
Still, he was learning.
He watched how Angelina adjusted her position before receiving a pass. He noticed that Alicia often glanced over her shoulder before changing direction, checking where the other players were. Katie had a habit of climbing slightly before accelerating, giving herself a better view of the pitch.
None of these things was especially dramatic.
But together, they made the difference between flying around and actually playing Quidditch.
At one point, Fred and George began practising a coordinated manoeuvre in which one Beater drew a Bludger toward him while the other moved into position to redirect it.
The first attempt failed.
The second nearly worked.
The third sent the Bludger in precisely the direction Oliver wanted.
"That's it!" Oliver shouted. "Again!"
Fred grinned at George.
"See? I told you we could do it!" Fred called.
George rolled his eyes.
"You said that after the first attempt," George reminded him.
"And I was right!" Fred insisted.
"You nearly hit the wrong target!"
"But I didn't!"
Oliver blew his whistle again.
"Less talking, more flying!"
The twins immediately accelerated away.
Harry laughed under his breath.
Adam watched them disappear into the distance.
"One day, I'm going to understand how Oliver manages to put up with them," Adam said.
Harry considered that.
"Maybe he doesn't. Maybe this is just how he suffers," Harry suggested.
Adam nodded solemnly.
"That makes more sense."
For a while, the practice continued without incident.
Then Adam noticed the sky.
The clouds that had hung over the grounds since morning had grown considerably darker. A strong wind swept across the pitch, bending the grass and sending dust swirling around the equipment shed.
Adam looked up.
"Harry," he said.
Harry was watching the Chasers and didn't immediately respond.
"Harry," Adam repeated.
This time, Harry turned toward him.
"What?"
Adam pointed toward the sky.
Harry followed his gaze.
"Oh."
The distant clouds had become a dark, heavy mass, spreading rapidly across the grounds. The light had dimmed, and the wind was growing stronger by the minute.
Harry frowned.
"That doesn't look good," Harry remarked.
"No," Adam agreed. "It really doesn't."
Before either boy could say anything else, a sudden gust swept across the pitch, rattling the equipment shed doors.
Oliver looked toward the sky.
His expression changed immediately.
"Everyone down!" Oliver shouted.
The whistle shrieked across the pitch.
The players broke off their manoeuvres and began descending. The wind had become strong enough to make maintaining a steady course difficult, and the first heavy drops of rain were already striking the grass.
"Bring the equipment in!" Oliver called. "Quickly!"
Harry and Adam hurried toward the practice gear while the players landed around them.
Another gust swept across the pitch, sending a loose practice Quaffle rolling away. Adam chased after it, caught it just before it reached the edge of the grounds, and hurried back toward the shed.
By the time he returned, the rain was falling heavily.
The sky had turned almost black, and distant thunder rumbled over the hills.
Oliver was helping the players secure the remaining equipment.
"Get the Bludgers contained!" Oliver shouted to Fred and George. "And make sure the brooms are properly stored!"
"We're doing it!" Fred shouted over the wind.
"Then do it faster!" Oliver replied.
Harry hurried past Adam with an armful of equipment.
"Here," Harry called, handing him several items. "Take these inside!"
Adam accepted them without complaint.
For once, he was perfectly happy to have something to do that didn't involve flying.
Within minutes, the team and the two first-years had moved the equipment into the shed and secured the doors. Rain hammered against the roof, and the wind howled outside.
Oliver checked the equipment one last time before turning toward the others.
"That's enough for today. The weather isn't safe for flying," Oliver announced.
A few players groaned in disappointment, but nobody argued. Even Fred and George seemed willing to concede that flying through a storm was a poor idea.
Katie brushed wet hair away from her face and glanced toward Adam.
"Looks like you're not getting your rematch today, Taylor," Katie said.
Adam looked at her.
"Rematch? I was under the impression that you three were enjoying the opportunity to improve your scores," Adam replied.
Angelina laughed.
"Oh, don't worry. We haven't forgotten," Angelina assured him.
Alicia nodded.
"We'll remember those three hits," Alicia added.
"Five," Adam corrected, looking at Angelina.
"Three," Alicia reminded him.
"Seven," Katie added cheerfully.
Adam sighed.
"You're all remarkably good at remembering the numbers that make me look bad."
Fred clapped him on the shoulder.
"Don't worry, mate. We'll make sure everyone remembers them," Fred promised.
George nodded solemnly.
"Twenty-three to five. Twenty-one to seven. Eighteen to three," George recited.
Adam turned toward the twins.
"Did I mention that you're both on my list?" Adam asked.
"Several times," Fred replied.
"We're very proud," George added.
Harry laughed as another rumble of thunder shook the air outside.
Oliver glanced toward the doors, then back at the assembled players.
"All right, everyone. Get changed and head back to the castle. There's no point hanging around in this weather," Oliver instructed.
The team began gathering their belongings, chatting about the interrupted practice as they prepared to leave.
Harry and Adam, however, remained behind.
Oliver turned toward them and pointed at the equipment table.
"You two still need to check that everything has been accounted for before you leave," Oliver reminded them.
Adam stared at him.
"Even in a storm?"
Oliver raised an eyebrow.
"The storm doesn't change the inventory," Oliver replied.
Harry lowered his head, trying not to laugh.
Adam looked at Oliver, then at the rain hammering against the shed's small windows.
"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" Adam asked suspiciously.
Oliver looked genuinely offended.
"Enjoying what?"
"Making us work while everyone else gets to leave," Adam replied.
Oliver folded his arms.
"You're serving detention, Taylor. The rest of the team isn't."
"Right," Adam muttered. "Forgot about that."
Oliver's expression softened slightly, and he glanced toward the dark sky outside.
"Besides, I wouldn't have stopped practice if I didn't think it was necessary."
Adam looked up at him.
"But you were tempted," Adam observed.
Oliver hesitated.
Only for a moment.
"Of course I was," Oliver admitted.
Harry blinked in surprise.
Oliver walked toward the shed's doorway and looked out at the storm.
"If this were a proper Quidditch match, we'd have to keep playing unless the conditions became genuinely dangerous or the officials stopped the game. You can't expect a match to be postponed every time the weather turns unpleasant."
He paused as another gust of wind rattled the doors.
"Some of the best players can handle difficult conditions. Wind changes how you approach a pass, rain affects visibility, and you have to work harder to maintain control of your broom. Learning to fly in different conditions has its advantages."
Adam glanced at Harry.
Harry was listening just as intently.
Oliver continued, his expression growing more thoughtful.
"Honestly, part of me would love to run a training session in weather like this. It would teach the team a great deal about controlling their brooms, judging distances, and adapting to unpredictable conditions."
Adam raised an eyebrow.
"Then why aren't we doing that?"
Oliver turned back toward him.
"Because there's a difference between challenging your players and making them ill," Oliver explained. "We're not playing an important match today. There's no reason to keep everyone flying in cold rain and strong winds just to prove they can do it."
He gestured toward the rain outside.
"Someone could lose control, collide with another player, or become so cold they can't concentrate properly. And even if nobody gets hurt, I don't particularly want half the team coming down with a cold because I decided a storm looked like an interesting training opportunity."
Fred, who was still near the equipment table, grinned.
"So you're saying there's a chance you'll make us train in a storm another day?"
Oliver turned toward him.
"I'm saying that if I ever decide the conditions are suitable for a controlled session in difficult weather, you'll be expected to take it seriously."
George looked at Fred.
Fred looked at George.
Both twins appeared delighted.
Oliver noticed their expressions.
"That doesn't mean I'm going to throw you into a thunderstorm for entertainment," Oliver added firmly.
"Of course not," Fred replied innocently.
"Wouldn't dream of it," George agreed.
Oliver stared at them for a moment.
"I don't believe either of you."
"That's hurtful," Fred said.
"Deeply hurtful," George added.
Adam shook his head.
"Somehow, I think they'll take that as encouragement."
"Unfortunately," Oliver replied, "you're probably right."
Harry laughed.
For the first time since the storm had started, Oliver seemed to relax a little.
He glanced toward the equipment table again.
"Now, unless either of you has discovered a way to make an inventory check itself, I suggest you get on with the work."
Adam's smile disappeared.
"That was a surprisingly short period of freedom," he muttered.
Harry picked up the inventory sheet.
"Come on. Let's get it over with."
Adam followed him toward the equipment, grumbling under his breath.
Outside, the storm continued to rage over Hogwarts, bringing Sunday's flying practice to an abrupt end.
And although Adam had spent most of the afternoon wishing he could get back on a broom, he found himself strangely grateful that the weather had intervened.
At least the storm couldn't make him inspect the brooms twice.
He glanced toward Oliver.
The captain was already checking the inventory.
Adam's brief moment of optimism vanished.
He sighed and began counting the equipment.