CHAPTER SEVEN
Bell and Angelina Johnson, were yawning side by side opposite
them.
“There you are, Harry, what kept you?” said Wood briskly.
“Now, I wanted a quick talk with you all before we actually get
onto the field, because I spent the summer devising a whole new
training program, which I really think will make all the differ-
ence. . . .”
Wood was holding up a large diagram of a Quidditch field, on
which were drawn many lines, arrows, and crosses in different-
colored inks. He took out his wand, tapped the board, and the
arrows began to wiggle over the diagram like caterpillars. As Wood
launched into a speech about his new tactics, Fred Weasley’s head
drooped right onto Alicia Spinnet’s shoulder and he began to
snore.
The first board took nearly twenty minutes to explain, but there
was another board under that, and a third under that one. Harry
sank into a stupor as Wood droned on and on.
“So,” said Wood, at long last, jerking Harry from a wistful fan-
tasy about what he could be eating for breakfast at this very mo-
ment up at the castle. “Is that clear? Any questions?”
“I’ve got a question, Oliver,” said George, who had woken with
a start. “Why couldn’t you have told us all this yesterday when we
were awake?”
Wood wasn’t pleased.
“Now, listen here, you lot,” he said, glowering at them all. “We
should have won the Quidditch Cup last year. We’re easily the best
team. But unfortunately — owing to circumstances beyond our
control —”
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