"I'm not going to bother calling out all of the names on the register. If anybody is not here, they are not playing. Just write your information on a scrap of parchment and give it to me."

Oliver Wood surveyed the students in front of him and suppressed a sigh. He waited until everyone had handed something in, then cleared his throat and picked up his broomstick. "I now declare the Gryffindor Quidditch tryouts open!" he called, which was met by a few cheers from the small crowd.

"First off, I need you all to get into a line and fly once around the pitch, one at a time." As the first Gryffindor mounted their broom and kicked off from the ground, Oliver took a minute to survey the gathered crowd. There were around thirty students, their faces pink from the cold. Many were blowing on their hands to get some feeling into them, and Oliver did the same. However excited he was about being made Captain, it was overpowered by the nervousness that was swimming in his stomach. What if they didn't respect or listen to him? What if they were all terrible? He had always taken so much pride in being a Gryffindor, and leading the Quidditch team to victory had been his dream since the start. If he disgraced them all, Oliver would never forgive himself.

Oliver quickly weeded out the hopeless players when they either fell off, couldn't get on, crashed, or just generally flew terribly. Once they had all flown around, he had sent home over a third of the students already. The remaining few gathered closely around him, looking giddy. "You have all shown… adequate flying ability today," he told them. "However, if you want to represent Gryffindor, you need to be better than adequate. You have got to be a champion, because that's what Gryffindor needs; that's what Gryffindor is! We are the house of champions, and we can have nothing less than a team of them when we go out on that pitch."

He rifled through the pieces of parchment, separating them out into the different positions. "I'd like all of the Keepers to get in front of the goal hoops, and the Chasers to convene in the middle of the pitch. They can take turns shooting at you."

The players followed his instructions, and soon it was clear to him that there was a very wide range of talent. Some of the potential Chasers missed the hoops completely, whilst others got it very close to perfectly on target. Meanwhile, many of the Keepers shrunk away from the Quaffle even if it went nowhere near. Only one or two of them actually made an attempt to save it.

There was one Chaser who stood out from the rest, though. Her name was Angelina Johnson, Oliver discovered, after checking the parchment she gave in. She had dotted her I with a tiny love heart, and her handwriting was neat and looping. He didn't know why, but there was something ridiculously attractive about it. When she moved forward to take her shot, Oliver looked up to watch, and found his breath taken away in surprise. Her thick, black hair was pulled back into a high ponytail, which bobbed up and down as she moved through the air with the grace of a mermaid. Her lips parted and eyes narrowed in concentration, Oliver couldn't help but think she was the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen.

When she scored straight past his most promising Keeper, Oliver was even more impressed. If there was one thing he looked for in a woman – in anyone – it was an affinity for Quidditch.

Angelina looked over to Oliver, a hopeful look on her face, and he found himself smiling and nodding approvingly at her. She ducked her head to hide the blush creeping into her cheeks, and flew back down to the floor.

Most of the Quidditch trials after that were just a blur to Oliver. One minute he was watching her receding broomstick, the next he was thanking everybody for coming and dismissing them, with promises of information soon. Oliver shook his head to snap himself out of it.

"She's just a girl," he muttered to himself. "You have more important things to think about."

When, a few hours later, Oliver had still not stopped thinking about Angelina, he decided he had a problem. Finding Fred and George Weasley nearby, he went over to them for advice.

After recounting his story, the twins looked at each other and laughed. Oliver stared at them, a worried look on his face. "Mate, you've just got a crush!" Fred cried, in between his laughs.

Oliver furrowed his brow in confusion. "I have a crush?" he asked. George nodded, wheezing from his laughter. "I don't understand," Oliver said blankly. "I haven't even spoken to her, and yet she's distracting me from Quidditch."

"Yeah, and it's about time too," Fred muttered. "You've been obsessed with that bloody game for far too long, and far more than is healthy."

Shaking his head, Oliver crossed his arms defiantly. "I need Quidditch," he said. "Quidditch is my rock. It keeps me sane." He leant forward at the last word, staring at the Weasleys with a desperate urgency in his eyes, which made them uneasy. "If I can get distracted from my lifeline by some girl… then I'm really in trouble."

Fred shrugged. "I remember seeing Angelina at practise, and she's in our year too. She's definitely hot, so I can see how you've got so fixated."

"Yeah, she was a pretty good Chaser, too," George added. "The best one there."

"I know," Oliver said, and pressed his face into his hands in despair. "She was the best there, by a mile, but I can't let her join."

Fred and George frowned at each other. "Why not?" Fred asked. "She'd be great on the team."

George nodded enthusiastically. "Angelina's really friendly too, so I'm sure she'd get along with everyone."

"That's the problem!" Oliver cried in frustration, lifting his head from his hands, only to stare at the twins, his forehead creased in worry. "You don't have to tell me how perfect she is, in every way, because I already know that. She is perfect."

He sighed wearily and ran a hand through his hair. "If she managed to distract me today, in tryouts – one of the most important things of the year – then I don't think I can trust myself to keep being a good Captain if she's there. This is for the team. You need me with a level, focused head, and Angelina will just take away my concentration."

It made sense to Oliver, but Fred and George were having a harder time understanding his somewhat backwards motives. "But if she seems perfect," George said slowly, "Then don't you think it would be a good idea to get to know her better, and go out with her or something? You know, in case she actually is perfect for you?"

Oliver shook his head. "Quidditch comes first," he said certainly. "Girls are distractions, which is precisely why I've stayed away from them all these years."

Fred leaned forward in his chair and looked at Oliver with a mixture of confusion and pity in his eyes. "Why?" he asked. "Why do you care so much about Quidditch? So much that you would sacrifice relationships?"

"Because," Oliver started, then paused and looked down at his hands. He seemed to be steeling himself for the conversation; bracing himself before he told them the truth. After a moment, he looked back up at them, and there was a determination in his eyes that they saw often while playing Quidditch. "I'm adopted," he told them, before letting out the breath he had unintentionally been holding in. "I don't know who my parents were, but they must have been family friends of my adopted parents. My parents were reluctant to take me in, at first, and for a long time I lived in fear that I would be abandoned at any moment; that I wouldn't actually be a wizard; that nobody would ever really want me; that I didn't have a place in this world."

He sighed, and then a wistful smile replaced his sad features. "Then I discovered Quidditch," he said, and there was a familiar light in his eyes again. "Finally, I had a place. I had a reason to keep going! Quidditch doesn't change, Quidditch doesn't leave. It is eternal."

Exchanging worried glances, Fred and George weren't quite sure they understood his reasoning. "So, because you're adopted, you have to pour your heart and soul into Quidditch?" Fred asked slowly.

Oliver nodded. "It is the one constant in my life. It is my rock, and I know it sounds childish, but I need that. So you see, I can't have some girl" – he shot an angry look across the common room at where Angelina and her friends were – "coming along and messing it up."

George wanted to embrace Oliver because of the look on his face then. Such desperation; he needed them to understand him, he needed acceptance, and trust, and honesty.

"Doesn't she deserve to be on the Quidditch team, though?" he asked softly, and Oliver's face fell.

"You're right," Oliver said after a moment. "Of course you're right. How could I deny someone the joy of Quidditch, when they're so worthy?"

Fred slid a book towards Oliver and pointed at a paragraph. Oliver read it: Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that.

"Maybe you need some love too, mate," Fred said. Oliver just rolled his eyes and stood up.

George's eyes widened. "Where are you going?" he asked.

"To talk to Angelina," Oliver told them. "I'm sure she's not as perfect in reality as she is at first glance."

The Weasleys exchanged an uncertain glance.

"But if she is," Oliver continued, "well… I'll need to get used to her anyway, if she's going to be playing Quidditch with us."

He clapped them both on the backs, winked, then sauntered off to see Angelina.

"Angelina?" Oliver stood by the girls, awkwardly fiddling with his wand, which shot out a couple of white sparks when the girl in question looked around to see him. "Hey, Angelina," he said more confidently.

She smiled uncertainly up at him.

Oliver turned to look at the girls she was with and saw, with some surprise, that all three of them had gone to the tryouts. "I'd like to let you know," he said slowly, "that you all made the team. Congratulations."

The girls' eyes all widened in surprise and one of them – Katie Bell, Oliver remembered her name was – squealed in delight. Angelina jumped up and hugged Oliver, taking him by so much surprise he almost fell over.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" she cried. "I mean, I thought the tryouts had gone quite well, but I never imagined… I mean, the team… I didn't think I was good enough to… Wow."

She had grown flustered, and kept tripping over her words, and Oliver just found it intoxicating. He had never seen anyone get this excited about Quidditch before!

Oliver almost groaned when he realised what this meant. She was beautiful, she was nice, she was generally amazing… And she liked Quidditch. He didn't know how he would keep his mind on Quidditch ever again.

Still, he shook her hand warmly and managed a rueful smile. "Welcome to the team."

Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition, Round One of Finals

Team: Holyhead Harpies

Position: Beater 1

Task: Write about the chosen character for your team (Oliver Wood) and another character (Angelina Johnson)

Prompts Used:

(quote) 'Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that'. - Martin Luther King Jr.

(word) embrace

(emotion) pride

Word Count: 1,933