Who: Adam and Greta What: Discussions about inappropriate conduct and the many uses of bludgers When: Friday, January 15th (the day before the Hufflepuff vs. Slytherin Quidditch game) Where: The DADA office
There were exactly 47 ways for a Quidditch player to get injured without actually falling off his or her broom. At least, that was the number Greta had come up with in the last half hour, although she couldn't remember if it included the number of individual finger bones that could get broken by a Bludger. All in all, she needed to do something other than obsess about the number of tragic accidents she might have to prevent on the Quidditch pitch tomorrow. It wouldn't be so bad if she were convinced that the players were taking the risks seriously, but when she had tried to talk to the teams about defensive flying during their last practices before the game, no one had even been paying attention. She'd even caught three of the Hufflepuffs going over their "teacher ratings" in the middle of practice - which turned out, much to Greta's embarrassment, to be detailed ratings of a the professors' relative "shaggability".
It might not have been so bad if Adam Lazzara hadn't been rated more highly on hair than Greta herself. It was insultingly inappropriate in all senses of the word.
Professor Lazzara was not in Greta's good books at the moment. Whatever Z might say about tutoring, she was spending far more time in private with him than any student should with a professor. And hadn't there been some rumour about Lazzara spending time in Hogsmeade with a blonde? It was all just a little too suspicious. Greta glanced at the clock. It was only just after five - Lazzara should be on his own - unless of course he had any after-hours tutoring sessions this evening.
Well, she couldn't do anything to stop the students from bashing each others' heads in tomorrow, but maybe she could have a quiet word with Lazzara about what happened to people who took advantage of her friends. She headed off for the DADA office before she could change her mind. Pounding on a door would do wonders for her stress, anyway.