You Have a Problem
A Harry Potter Fanfiction
by Drauchenfyre
Summary: Harry gets fed up with Oliver Wood.
Characters: The Gryffindor Quidditch Team (Harry's Third Year)
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"Incarcerus."
Oliver Wood didn't even have time to turn around before he was cocooned in magical ropes and falling to the floor. He quickly rolled, certain that the Slytherin team was here to steal his brilliant plays, when he found himself hoisted into the air and dangling upside down from the ceiling.
And eye-to-eye with a very irritated Harry Potter.
Harry had always seemed so meek and harmless to Oliver before. Of course, Oliver hadn't been present when Harry battled Quirrell. Or slew a basilisk.
Looking into his jade-green eyes, Oliver found himself fighting the urge to wet himself.
"You have a problem, Ollie."
Oliver must have looked confused, because Harry continued by grabbing the front of the ropes and swinging him around to look at the rest of the team.
They were asleep. All five of them.
"I can understand getting us up at the arse-crack of dawn to exercise and practice, but this is nuts. You don't wake people out of a sound sleep, give them a two hour lecture, and expect them to stay awake- or retain any of it. We had three hours last night before curfew when a team meeting would have fit into everyone's schedule. We should have discussed the strategies and tactics then. They would have then been fresh in our minds when we went to sleep and our subconscious minds would have analyzed and absorbed them throughout the night. Now, however, if we woke up the others and asked them what the bloody hell you've been talking about the last hour and a half, I doubt any of them could answer."
Harry turned and looked into Oliver's eyes again. "I get it- you want the cup. So do I. But this manic obsession is doing more to alienate us than get us to work as a unit. You're awake 'cause you're bloody obsessed. I'm awake because I've been conditioned by my bitch of an aunt to need only four hours of sleep a night. The rest of them need their sleep or they'll be useless on the pitch."
"Here's what's going to happen, Ollie," Harry was now scowling, and Oliver, this time, did douse his drawers. "We're going to go have breakfast. We're going to have a normal Saturday. At seven o'clock, three hours before curfew, we're going to have a team meeting. You're going to open by apologizing for letting your mania get in the way of your good sense. Then we'll cover your strategy session. When we wake up tomorrow- no earlier than five- we'll have the physical team practice. This will be the pattern for team practices for now. Because if you let this mania of yours get out of hand like this again-" Harry's sharpening glare caused Oliver's shorts to get browner and stinkier- "Then I'll quit the team and try to convince the others to do the same. Considering their current opinion of you, I doubt I'll have much trouble. If McGonagall asks, I'll explain that I refuse to play for a raving psycho and will not rejoin the team whilst you are captain. Do we understand each other, Ollie?"
Oliver nodded, before the ropes vanished and he hit the floor. When he regained consciousness, the locker room was empty.
It would be lunchtime before he collected himself enough to speak, however.
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