Disclaimer: It's pretty much all JKR's and if you could see my bank account, you'd see I'm making nothing off of this piece of entertainment.
A/n: As of April '11, this story has been heavily rewritten. So if you're one of these people who looks at reviews of a story, keep in mind they no longer match up at all, as chapters have been combined, shifted and replaced in this massive story makeover (the very basic gist of it is the same, but it's been heavily altered). Thank you to everyone who read and reviewed the old version and to everyone who continues to do so. Thanks to anyone who stuck around long to read this new version and to anyone just coming upon it now. :)
Timeline: Takes place during Prisoner of Azkaban and more or less follows the book, but from Oliver Wood's perspective.
Keeper's Heart
Chapter 1: Get Up and Go
Oliver's alarm clock chirped harmoniously, waking him from a dream about pies and Quaffles. He was somewhat of a morning person however, and his body was used to getting up at this time of day during the week, so he didn't feel too annoyed at its cheerful noise. He slapped it off but spent several more minutes hunkered comfortably under his warm blankets. Morning person or not, his bed was bloody comfortable and hard to leave.
"Oliver?"
There was a sudden frantic rapping on his door.
"Oliver, get up!" His mother knocked a few more times before adding, "We have to leave for King's Cross in an hour if we want to beat the rush!"
"Yes Mum." He replied sleepily and eventually slid out of bed.
Today he was heading to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry for his seventh and final year. It was a bit strange, surreal almost, to be packing his last minute items into his school trunk knowing this was the last time he would be leaving home for King's Cross to start a new semester at the school. He knew before he got there that he was going to miss returning each year, being with his friends, playing Quidditch for Gryffindor and everything else that went along with the school.
"Oliver?" His mother creaked open his door. "Are you-?"
"Up, yes."
"Are you-?"
"Packing, yes."
His mother sighed. "Well, do be quick dear, you've only got forty minutes for breakfast." She shut his bedroom door closed behind her and he could hear her down the hall trying to rouse his still sleeping father. He had to smile, because some things never changed. He was always up and ready to go, changed and packed, finished breakfast and usually killing time while his mother fretted and flew about the house and his father slept until the last possible second.
Then once they were in the vehicle driving to King's Cross, his father managed his usual start-of-term, do-good-this-year-and-make-us-proud speech in between frequent yawns. His mother interjected often, trying to determine that Oliver hadn't forgotten to pack anything important.
"You've got your robes?"
"Yes, Mum."
"Dress robes too, just in case?"
"Yes, Mum."
"And you be sure to keep your grades up, Oliver. I know that's never really been a problem for you, son, but – " His father droned.
"You've got your toothbrush?"
"Yes, Mum."
"School is just as important as play and as Quidditch. And speaking of Quidditch, Oliver – "
"All your books? Cauldron? Wand?"
Oliver chuckled at the pair of them. "Yes, Mum. And yes, Dad, I know."
"Right. 'Course you do."
Before too long (his mother finally satisfied he hadn't forgotten anything and his father having finally wrapped up all of school tips and fatherly advice for the year) they'd arrived at the train station. With the ease of routine, the three of them wasted no time in transferring Oliver's luggage to a cart and then proceeding to discreetly slide through the barrier between platforms 9 and 10. As soon as they'd arrived on the station, Katie Bell and Lee Jordan greeted him warmly.
"Good to see you, Wood," Lee smiled and shook his friend's hand.
"You too, Lee. Have a good summer?"
"Ah, the best."
"And you Katie?"
"Fairly excellent. Minus family drama and mishaps." She laughed and Oliver raised his eyebrow curiously.
"Really? Well, you'll have to fill me in."
Oliver's father had come back from loading Oliver's things on the train and gave his son a pat on the back. "All your things are loaded, son. Have a good year."
His mother wrung her hands then hastily pulled Oliver into a tight hug. "Have fun, sweetheart. And stay out of trouble, keep up with your studies, work hard – and owl us if you're staying at Hogwarts for the holidays." He squeezed her back, smiling. Really, it was nearly word for word what she'd said to him last year.
"I will, Mum, don't worry."
She pulled back emotionally, regarding him with a mixture of sadness and pride. His father laughed and put his arm around her. "We'll see you." He said and Oliver returned the farewell before waving to them and heading for the train.
Seconds after his parents had departed the platform, most of the Weasley clan came clambering and sprinting onto the platform just as the train gave a loud whistle to indicate last call for passengers. The twins, Fred and George, were first and rushed to join Oliver as he was climbing onto the train.
"Alright there, Oliver?" said George, panting slightly.
"Better than you – cutting it close, don't you think?"
"Ah, but it's more exciting this way. Besides, it happens every year – why break tradition?"
Oliver laughed and helped his friends with their luggage, down the narrow corridors on the train to the compartment he and Katie had already claimed. "But I thought you two weren't coming back this year? I seem recall a lot of big talk about not bothering anymore."
Fred shrugged. "I didn't much fancy being murdered by mother at such a young age."
"I'm too pretty to die." George dead-panned.
Oliver laughed again and the three settled into their compartment with Katie as the train pulled from the station.
The farther North the train went, the darker the clouds became and soon it began to rain. It was a soothing noise against the train windows that was unfortunately mostly drowned out by the activity in Oliver's compartment. Between Fred, George, Lee, himself and Katie playing games, telling stories, recounting their summers, coming and going to meet up with other friends, theirs was a very noisy compartment.
Around 1 o'clock, the lunch lady came around with her cart of food. The others had gone to see other friends or use the loo so Oliver was the only one left. He dug for some coins.
"I'd like a pack of Bertie's and – "
"Two pumpkin pastries?" the lunch lady finished for him with a grin.
"Yes ma'am."
"Seven years and you never change your order." The lunch lady laughed; a warm, deep laugh from her belly. "You sure you won' try somethin' new? It's your last year, innit?"
"Yes." Oliver answered then surveyed her cart. "Alright, I'll take two chocolate frogs too."
"Ooh, adventurous choice, lad." She winked at him with another laugh and exchanged him the candy for his money. He thanked her and she trundled off to serve other compartments.
As he began sampling some of Bertie's Every Flavour beans (lime, marshmallow, then dirt), his thoughts turned to the year of school that lay before him and his stomach turned with nerves. His last year of school - and then what would he do? Of course, his wish was to go the route of a professional Quidditch player, but suppose he couldn't get on a team? What career path could pursue then?
He gave his head a shake, trying not to worry about it - he still had a full year to sort things out, there was no need to stress just yet.
Oliver had just finished enjoying his pumpkin pastries and stashing his candy for later when the door to his compartment slid open again. Thinking it was one of his friends returning, Oliver began,
"Hey, you just missed –" He stopped short when he saw not one of his friends, but in fact someone he would refer to as his enemy: Marcus Flint, Captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team.
"How was your summer, Woody?" said Flint, using a nickname he knew Oliver hated.
"Like you care. What do you want, Flint?" Oliver's tone was cool but full of dislike. He'd never got along well with Flint, and then they'd developed a serious sense of competition between them that only intensified when they each became Captain of their respective House teams. What started out as rubbing each other the wrong way in class or in the halls had turned into a deep-seated dislike, on and off the field. Oliver was a typically non-violent person who could keep his temper in check, though he found it difficult around Flint – someone whose face he often imagined punching.
"Work out any decent plays? Because you're sodding worthless team could use some."
"You're one to talk." Oliver shot back.
"I'm sorry, who hasn't ever won the Quidditch Cup? That's right – you."
Oliver narrowed his eyes. "You should leave, Marcus. Right now."
Flint snorted. "Is that a threat? I'm scared, Wood. Really, I'm shaking. I'm just as scared of you as I am your pathetic excuse for a team."
"So, terrified then?"
"Please. Save it for the field, Woody." Flint fairly spat then backed out of the compartment.
Oliver shook his head and stared out at the rolling scenery which was blurred by the rain. No, he hadn't won the Cup – not yet. It had to happen. This was his year, he was sure of it. It had to be. It was his last year, he wouldn't – couldn't – lose. Couldn't leave Hogwarts after being the Captain for the majority of his time there, and never having won, and he couldn't stand to see Flint's face or hear his remarks either.
He glanced at his bag where he had a rather tattered notebook where he constantly sketched out Quidditch plays and moves, some to later try out, some to just work out in his head. I do have some decent plays, in fact, Flint, he thought with a smile. We'll see who's the cocky one after I take you down with some of them.
A/n: For the record, I'm still not super happy with this story as a whole, but I feel it is a vast improvement over the old version (plus at this point I think no matter what I do I won't be happy with it, haha). It's now officially complete, so I can move on to other things. Yay! Thanks for reading, reviews are like oxygen.