The match was over. At that point it was a blessing more than anything. The Slytherin beaters had played well enough, but their new Keeper seemed as incapable of blocking goals as he was speaking. An impressive feat considering he did well enough at practice and one would think that not talking would keep him focused. For whatever reason, Slytherin had played worst than a team of first years before their first flying lesson, but that was alright, as long as they won every other match by a large margin. Normally he would believe that against Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw they would be fine, but the odds seemed to be distinctly opposed to their favor. Granted how could Gryffindor not win their first match, they were all high on the pity of one of their members being trashed over the summer. Horrible experience bull shit card went a long way in motivating a team. He wondered if he could arrange for Kollmann to have a fatal accident. The kid was a nervous wreck as it was, it would hardly come a surprise if something horrible happened to him.

He was dwelling on his thoughts about “accidents” when he heard his name being called. He would not have noticed the Gryffindor boy otherwise. Hands in his pockets he turned to look at Nigel Wright. He did not know much about Nigel. Supposedly he was shagging both Emma Briar, which Finn did not doubt to be the case, and Daisy Bishop, which Finn was highly doubt was the case. He might have believed the rumor over the summer, but he saw the way the younger Bishop looked at his brother. There was no way she was shagging anything else. And Brice was certainly not shagging her. He was unsure for what purpose the Wright was waiting for him. But it became abundantly clear that the Wright thought Finn was purposely attacking him. However true that may, or may not, have been Finn had felt no compulsion to stop and discuss it with the other bloke.

“Fuck off Wright.” He snapped as he tried to push past him. But the boy poked him in the chest, and Finn seriously considered breaking the boys hand. It was not something he wanted to do. He really wanted to break the boys hand, in at least seven places. But he held his temper. “If you wanted to make up a reason to talk to me, Wright, this is a pretty pathetic attempt. Don’t you have someone better to bother.” He growled. Hand breaking would begin in five, four, three, two...