On Friday evening, Harry had settled himself in front of the common room fire to complete his homework while he waited for Ron and Hermione to return from their final detention with Professor McGonagall. Quidditch practice that evening had been especially brutal, as if Angelina were trying to psychically communicate her displeasure with Ron too him, by driving the rest of the team as hard as possible. Harry certainly hadn’t gotten away with lazily floating about the Quidditch pitch this time and had instead had to deal with Angelina pelting golf balls about the pitch for him to catch. One or two of them had collided rather painfully with Harry’s head. He wasn’t quite sure what that was meant to be training him to do, if he was honest, as he didn’t think anyone had ever won a Quidditch match by head butting the snitch.