Disclaimer: I do not own the story and characters of Harry Potter. (I do love it though, but I'm pretty sure that doesn't count.)

1 - Parting Ways

I, Katrina Rigby, am not the type of person to shy away from any kind of issue in front of me. At least according to the Sorting Hat, I am not. Supposedly, I belong to the courageous faction of this house. So I should practically be exhilarated with the challenge that lies before me. The slight trembling of my hands and the fact that my voice would probably break if I tried to speak right now tells me otherwise. It would be a huge understatement to say that I'm nervous right now.

I'm nervous when Professor Snape calls my name in Potions when he knows I haven't paid attention. Truth be told, I could still answer his questions because there is also a fairly good reason why I was almost sent to Ravenclaw.

But I'm a Gryffindor, which brings me back to the problem at hand. The fact that I have been pacing around the quidditch pitch for a while shows how murderously anxious I am right now. I don't pace, I don't ramble. Usually.

With one last sigh, I finally see the person I'm looking for emerge from the boys' changing room and approach him with as much courage as I can muster. When I called out his name, I was surprised by how confident I sound, like it's perfectly normal for me to talk to my quidditch captain-to-be after practice.

"Wood, could I talk to you about something?"

He looked up at me with calculating eyes, probably noticing that I kept running my hands through my short brown hair in a nervous manner. But then again, he was most likely utterly shocked to see that somebody was still on the pitch. Everyone on the team knew that once Oliver Wood allowed you to leave you better make a run for it before he decides otherwise and makes you do laps or something along the lines. His first training showed everyone as much. God, I will miss Charlie Weasley.

"Sure, Rigby. How 'bout we sit on the bleachers?"

He clearly did not know what to expect from this conversation because right now he was still smiling pleasantly, though he looked a tad confused. That expression would soon change and I couldn't help but feel guilt wash over me since I was about to ruin his day, if not even his entire holidays.

We made our way up to the bleachers in silence and as soon as we were seated, he looked at me expectantly waiting for me to begin. For a short moment, I was at loss for the right words to begin this argument because there was no correct way to say this.

I let one last sigh escape my lips and looked up from my still slightly trembling hands. As his dark brown eyes met my pale green ones, I balled my hands to fists to stop my ridiculous behavior. This was far more difficult that I had thought.

"Wood, I quit." I said softly. "I will no longer play quidditch for Gryffindor." I clarified, a bit more confident than before.

The look of utter disbelief on his face would probably have been hilarious, if I wasn't so sure it would turn into one of anger in a moment. His eyes went from wide open to narrow slits in a split second.

Point for me. Score Wood – Rigby: 0 – 1. Sometimes he's quite predictable.

"You are doing what?! How could you...? Why would you…?" He struggled to compose his shock and anger. "Explain yourself." He glowered darkly.

I took a deep breath. His anger intimidated me, but I had had enough time to prepare for this.

"I've been thinking about it for a while. I don't want to abandon the team and get on your nerves. Absolutely not. But this isn't about quidditch, it's about my future." I said apologetically, staring ahead of me onto the pitch. I would miss this place.

He still looked puzzled and not quite appeased yet. "What do you mean?"

I couldn't help a chuckle escaping my lips. "Of course, you wouldn't understand. For you, quidditch is the future. But not for me. I'm not taking the risk of hoping some professional team will accept my application in a few years. I wouldn't flatter myself into thinking I'm good enough for that."

With a scowl still fixed in place on his face, he murmured. "I would not say that. So you're not considering quidditch as a future career, that does not mean you have to quit the team, does it?"

I smirked. "I would agree with you, but I've talked to Professor McGonagall and Flitwick about the matter and Flitwick was the first to recommend that I quit the team with OWLs coming up in the next year and.." I took a deep breath before telling him my plans for the future. I hadn't told many and my heart thumped loudly in my chest at the prospect of him knowing and judging my decision. "..if I want to become a healer, I will have to get as many Os as possible."

I finally glanced into his direction to see his reaction, but up until now the only new prospect was that his brows were knit together in consideration. "What did McGonagall say?"

I felt my eyebrows rising at the unexpected question. Was he even taking me seriously? "She begrudgingly agreed and said she would support me in any way possible."

"And that's it?" He snapped.

"Yes." I answered slowly, in dreadful apprehension of what was coming next.

Let the shouting begin.

He got up, towering over me as he started. "You're the bloody seeker, Rigby. Our victory depends on your performance. Dammit, Rigby. How are we ever supposed to win the House Cup when you are so damn indecisive. You're really just going to leave the team, are you? Then you know what, just sod off before you drag down the team's motivation." He ranted, agitated.

0 – 2 for me. I knew this wasn't going to end amicably.

But I wasn't going to let him insult me. I knew he was passionate about quidditch, considering that we had been on the team for three years now and he was in my year, it was an easy fact. But that didn't give him the right to explode on me.

"You have to make this hard, right? You really think this is easy for me. I love quidditch." I shouted back. Now we were both standing. Tears were starting to prick at my eyes. I couldn't stand people shouting at me. I was particularly bad at taking a stand because I always teared up and I hated it. It made me feel weak, vulnerable.

"Not enough, the way I see it." He bellowed. He always seemed quite oblivious about how people felt and right now I was shocked to realize that he couldn't see that this was tough for me, too. My anger dissolved completely. It had no use to argue with him.

We glowered at each other for a while, before I blinked and sighed. "Then I guess you don't know me at all." And with those words I left without turning around again.

After that last training session of the year, Oliver Wood completely ignored me, which didn't strike me as odd because we hardly interacted in school, but it left me with a slightly distraught ending of my fourth school year. Everyone boarded the Hogwarts Express a week from that and I couldn't help but think that the next school year could only be better.