Author's Note:For readers of MM, sorry for not updating. I was away for March Break (France and England), and then I got so busy (tell my teachers how mad you are that I haven't updated! Blame them) with schoolwork. Sorry. New chapter is almost finished. Should be up relatively soon. But as for this thing, Katie is in fifth year because her actually being in fourth year bothered me. And Wood is in seventh year. And Harry is in third year. And Angelina, Alicia, and the Weasley twins are in sixth year. You can figure the rest out. And this chapter is random, as well as K/O-oid. There will be many pairings throughout. Hopefully… Review and let me know what you think…

Disclaimer: As usual, I own none of it except the plot, and I'm sure that even that will have been done before…

Summary: The Gryffindor Quidditch team and their lives. Then their outlooks on their lives through their diaries (or 'journals' according to George, who is hoping that that sounds more masculine, because he has issues with showing his femininity…). But what happens when the author goes crazy and people find each other's diaries and learn all sorts of secrets that weren't necessarily meant for them… Oh, the calamity!

Memoirs of a Quidditch Team

Monday:

The cheery breezes and peaceful sunset glow on the Quidditch pitch was interrupted by the mad ravings of a crazed Quidditch Captain.

"OI, you five! Are you playing Quidditch or flirting with each other?" Wood roared across the pitch.

"Little bit of both I'd say, wouldn't you George?" Fred said to his freckled twin, earning a slap from each of the girls.

"Indubitably. But I don't think that was quite the right answer in Oliver's books… Do you bro?" George replied with a smirk in Oliver's direction. Fred grinned.

Alicia snorted unflatteringly and said, "That's a bit of an understatement, no? Only, I don't think his face usually looks like that…"

"What, that violent shade of purple? I dunno…" laughed Angelina, tossing her dark plaits over her shoulder.

As Oliver soared over to them, George muttered mischievously, "Ask Katie; she spends enough time staring at-OUCH!"

Everyone was laughing too hard to help George, who had fallen off his broom clutching his side dramatically (they were only hovering a few feet above the ground).

"BELL! What the ruddy-Hell was that?" Oliver yelled at his chaser, whose face was now a lovely beetroot colour. Katie remained silent and tried to arrange her crimson features into an innocent expression, while at the same time, avoiding everyone's gaze (especially Oliver's, which was more difficult as she was talking to him).

"Sorry Oliver." Katie lied. "He fell off his broom."

Oliver raised an eyebrow. "I'm the Captain of this team, and I won't stand for violence and lying! Save that for the Slytherins."

"Yes Sir," Katie muttered guiltily.

"Hoots," Oliver said skeptically, casting Katie a scrutinizing glare. Everyone leaned away from the Captain, who flushed slightly and said, "It's a Scottish word for 'well then', you nobheads!"

Fred sniggered ('hoots'...).

Oliver glared at him and barked, Captain-like again, "And you, Weasley! Stop chatting up my chasers and play some damn quidditch!"

Fred made a sarcastic salute and his brother reappeared, coughing 'jealous!', to which Fred cockily responded "You know it!", and high-fived him.

Everyone laughed again and Oliver took several deep, calming breaths. When this failed, he grabbed Fred's Beater's Bat and proceeded to chase him around the pitch, brandishing it like a sword ('GET BACK HERE, WEASLEY!').

Then, to yells of 'ABUUSSSSEEEE!', and 'HAARRRAAASSSMENTTT!' from Fred, Harry flew down with a small, wiggling gold ball clutched in his hand.

"I caught the Snitch…" he said.

"Poor Harry," George said, clapping Harry sympathetically on the back; "So oblivious…"

Harry frowned as the others turned to leave the pitch. "So, is practice over then?" he called after them.

Dear Diary-

Katie here. Poor Harry. He's always so clueless… Damn good flyer though…

Oh, note to self: maim Weasley twin George.

Other note to self: maim Weasley twin Fred too, just for good measure.

I'll expand on that, shall I?

Well, we're at practice, and, as usual, Harry's the only one actually practicing. Fred and Angelina are flirting like crazy – I still don't see why one of them doesn't just ask the other out; they're completely obvious about that fact that they like each other, but that'll never happen according to Honey Malone, the school gossip (it figures that the most gossipy, airheady cow in the school had to be a blonde – she's just giving people more backing for that whole blonde stereotype – and called 'Honey' – erg). All blondes are not idiots… Until it comes to liking their Quidditch Captains… Which I don't!

Back to the story, dammit! So they're flirting, and so are Alicia and George, but I think they do it more for fun than anything… And there's me watching all of this amusedly. Well… pretending to watch all of it amusedly, while really picturing our Quidditch Captain in some kind of pirate costume… Whoa! Don't ask where that came from.

Then Oliver yells at us in his sexy Scottish… NO! This is not right. My quill is writing strange lies… LIES, I say, LIES! Ahem… So anyway, Oliver yells at us and Fred and George make some typical sarcastically entertaining come-back (note the fond tone… this was before those Weasley arseholes betrayed me!).

Then, as Oliver is flying down to us to yell some more, George makes the 'snappy' comment of me spending enough time staring at Oliver's face to know it's normal colour (which is a sort of light- rosewood, but goes kind of tanned in the summer…). Har-bloody-har. That nobhead-with-no-nob. So there I am, beetroot red, and praying that Oliver didn't hear that, while also elbowing 'Benedict-Weasley' in the ribs as hard as physically possible for someone of my height and weight… Which is apparently quite hard, because he fell off his broom (so satisfying…). Unfortunately, Oliver saw that and yells "BELL!" and something-or-other else, but I miss most of that because I'm concentrating on how sexy it sounds when he says my name… NO! This stupid quill! I'm going to buy a new one next Hogsmeade weekend!

But then, I put all of my amazing lying skills to use and con Oliver into believing that George 'Mussolini' Weasley just fell off his broom.

Yeah, I didn't think he would buy it either, but hey, it worked, didn't it?

After that, Oliver grabbed Fred's bat and chased him with it. I was highly tempted to cheer him on, but feared that awkward questions would arise.

Then I dived back to the Common Room, and up here to my dorm to avoid Angelina and Alicia, who have been banging on the door for the last ten minutes to try and bug me about the possibility of my fancying our Quidditch Captain. It's not their dorm, so what's the harm in locking them out…?

Of course, I could have just told them that I don't fancy him, and that I just attempted to hex George's brains out in the Common Room because Oliver might have heard his comment and been embarrassed… You know; told them that I was afraid of George embarrassing him… But, I wasn't that smart. I panicked. You know: shifty eyes, in-head humming of James Bond theme song, cursing of people around me (well, that sixth-year toerag was laughing at me), and bolting up to room and hiding behind bed curtains with teddy bear and diary…

But just because I acted guilty (oh those bums! I can hear them laughing outside my door now…), doesn't mean I like him. Like who? See… No liking whatsoever going on here. I'll admit that he's not too unfortunate in looks… But nothing close to… say… ummm…

Damn. Angelina just said "Katie fancies Oliver" too loudly. I can hear other people climbing the stairs.

They're knocking on the door. I'm shouting "BUGGER OFF".

Someone says "Katie, can I come in?" in a familiar voice. Disregarding the fact that most Gryffindor voices will be familiar to me now, having heard them all for the last five years, it sounds familiar. Too familiar… And Scottish…

Is that…? NOOOooooooo! It's, him. Oh Lord, kill me now! Oliver Wood is knocking at my dorm door. Wait a minute… It can't be Oliver… Only girls can climb our staircase… I bet those damn Weasley twins found a way for guys to climb the stairs. I now have two reasons to maim them.

The voice… It's still there… "Katie, open this damn door", it's saying. Cringe. I should open that door. Let's pray that Oliver just wants to talk tactics, shall we?

I'm walking towards the door. Kind of… I will be as soon as my legs can move… Which should be some time soon… Or… Not? MOVE your stupid legs, MOVE! Ahhh… There we go… My feet are moving… That's some improvement…

Upon opening the door and slamming it again in Angelina's and Alicia's bloody-laughing faces, I feel a lot better. Next time they find out – ahem – think I fancy our Scottish Quidditch Captain, I should also remember that my best friend's Scottish… Hehe…

Leanne threatened to write "Katie loves Oliver" on my forehead with permanent ink if I ever locked her out again… To which I wittily replied "oh sod off you lying potato-head".

I know; not one of my better ones… But I needed to make a quick snarky reply which has no naturally possible response so that I could return to you and write about how much I DON'T fancy my Quidditch Captain! Am pointedly ignoring giggles of 'awww… Katie… fallen for the way he beats Fred up with a bat, have you?'.

Other note to self: maim all members of quidditch team and witnesses of any of the above… except Captain Wood… But only because he's… such a great Quidditch player! For no personal reasons WHAT-SO-EVER! And except Harry, who's so clueless that even if he had witnessed any of this, he still wouldn't know what's going on… Which is nothing! Damn. Even my God-forsaken teddy bear's laughing at me. I will banish it to a toddler who will bite its' ears off slowly and painfully, one-by-one, and then…

Final note to self for today: consider therapy.

-Katie

Dear Diary-

HARHARHARHAR! KATIE LIKES OLIVER! She should consider therapy.

Well… That's what George said earlier in practice… And then she denied it and hid in her bedroom, so Alicia and I sat outside it making fun of her… We're not as mean as that sounded, really. But it's Oliver… He's cute, but, firstly, he's our Captain (crazy, loud, talented but power-mad when it comes to the team, and kind of scary upon occasion), secondly, he's too old for her. Two years. Kind of… He's seventh year; she's fifth. Thirdly, if they get together and then break up, then that will screw up the team (unless they time the break up for just the end of the year… like at the after-party of the Gryffindor vs. Slytherin match where we will win the Quidditch Cup by 563 points and rub it in the Slytherins' faces like there's no tomorrow… because then the Quidditch season will be over and Oliver will be leaving… yes I am evil, yada, yada, yada…). And last of all, I quite like Katie, so I don't want her to hate me, which, if they get together, she will, because I secretly plan to murder him or lock him in the Shrieking Shack so that I can be the new psycho-Quidditch-Captain… Mwuahaha! I shouldn't have told you that…Will it make you feel slightly better about that if I tell you that it was a joke…? Nah, didn't think so.

But I can tell you that I'm really proud! Fred and I are being completely discrete about… you know… us. No one suspects anything. I haven't even told Alicia that I'm sleeping with him. Whoa! That sounds way worse than it is… Let's go back to my murder plot for Wood!... SOON!

But yeah. You know, I wonder how most people can tell them apart (meaning Fred and George). Unless they are sleeping with one of them, or are their mother (oh God, Mrs. Weasley will KILL me if she finds out… I met her once… Scary broad… Nice, but scary…), then I guess they are two funny guys who look the same… But Fred's arse is nicer… I can't believe I just said that. Must remember to NEVER say that to hit, because his head will expand to the size of the left goal hoop on our usual side (which is actually where we first snogged). Cocky git. But it is true. His bum's perfect.

I'm discussing my secret-boyfriend's bum with a book, and comparing it to his twin brother's bum. Should consider joined Katie in therapy. And it's not like I even look and George's bum… I'm sure he has a very nice bum… Oh God, I'm feeling guilty for saying that my secret-boyfriend's bum is nicer than his twin brother's. I'm going to ask Katie if she has any therapy places in mind.

Oh well… It's not like anyone will ever read this… Unless… What if Dumbledore is actually a pervy old man who spies on students, reads their diaries, and has a big cauldron full of some kind of potion that allows him to see his students' and what they're doing…? EW! What if he… OMIGOD! What if he saw Fred and me… Arghh… Not only could he have seen, but what if he watched! PERVERT! I need to transfer schools…

Okay Angelina, don't hyperventilate. It's okay. Dumbledore is not a creepy old sleazebag who watches his students… do stuff… Cringe.

Think about something, anything else… Think about Quidditch, think about poor, clueless Harry – I am seriously glad, for his sake, that he's good looking, because if girls only went by how clued in he was to everything… Well… Let's just say that that 'film'-thing Katie told me about called the 'forty-year-old-virgin', could easily be him… OH CRAP, think about how late you're going to be for secret-snog-rendez-vous with secret-boyfriend-Fred! Later!

Okay, now I'm scared! I just ran up here all the way from that broom closet by the statues of those two creepy gargoyles… Still out of breath.

Well, Fred wasn't mad that I was ten minutes late, so we went into the closet, right? Then we start snogging, okay, and he's just about to take off my shirt when we hear voices. We freeze and listen, and EW; guess who we hear? DUMBLEDORE WAS OUTSIDE THE BROOM CLOSET WE WERE DOING UNGODLY THINGS IN!

Oh my God, I really need therapy. And a bath. In sterilizing liquids (does nail polish remover count, d'you reckon?). And then I need to flip out some more and go to church. A lot. And then I need to explain to Fred why I can't secretly see him any more, due to becoming Amish. Then I need to file a wizard law suit against Dumbledore, who is a sleezy old pedophile. Then I must actually become Amish… And then I must whine to future-fellow-Amish friends and eat lots of chocolate… After, of course, checking that you can eat chocolate when you are Amish, because if you can't, the whole plan's out the window!

To do list for tomorrow: immediately find therapist and transfer schools. And play some Quidditch. And tease Katie some more.

-Angelina

Journal-

I refuse to write 'diary' there, because journal sounds much more masculine (and dammit Fred, I do not have 'issues' with admitting to my feminine side! I just don't have one…). He can go and stuff an unfinished nosebleed-nougat down his throat so that he bleeds until he shrivels up… And I also refuse to write 'dear' infront of 'journal', because that would be acknowledging the vague (very, very, very distant) similarity between a 'diary' and a 'journal'. Plus the word 'dear' has always made me slightly uncomfortable (but don't tell Fred that…).

But anyway. I don't even know why I'm using a 'journal'. Fred made me. Well, he told me that I should either do this or read 'Little Women' to prove my sensitivity to Alicia, who won't stinking date me until she knows I'm sensitive. I'm bloody sensitive… I cried once… No, wait, that was Ron when Fred and I turned his teddy bear into a spider… Hehe, that was payback…

Whoops.

But anyway, she likes me, and I think she's hot, so I don't see why she won't just go out with me. And since when is Fred 'Mr. Sensitivity'? I have no idea why Angelina is secretly dating him, since girls (cough-Alicia-cough) are supposed to like 'sensitive guys' and that sort of thing. Not that I'm supposed to know about them, of course… Snog buddies, I expect…

Again; anyway… She's just being stubborn. Just don't tell her I said that. She can be downright scary when provoked… But back to the point. She won't date me until I'm sensitive, right? So I need a plan that involves making her think I'm sensitive. Because me actually being sensitive is out of the question. Completely!

Hmmm… Maybe I could get Fred to set a rogue bludger on me so it makes me cry, and then I tell her I'm crying because I just read some sissy book like 'Little Women'. Yes! Go me! They should call me George 'amazing-evil-plan-maker' Weasley! But wait… Then she would want to analyze the book's actual contents… Which would mean that I'd actually have to have read the book to keep up the 'sensitive' feat… Which also isn't going to happen. Damn. Need a new plan.

How about I tell her I'll fling myself from the Astronomy Tower out of my true, gentlemanly feelings for her? Nah, she'd probably make me do it to prove it… She'd better be an excellent snogger for all this thought I'm giving her… And remind me that she can never read this will you?

So… Did I mention that Katie has an extremely pointy elbow? I was just hovering there at practice, Fred and Angelina being completely pathetically obvious (honestly! I think they actually think they're hiding it well!), talking to my teammates and pointing out how Katie is madly in love with Oliver, when she (Katie) just elbows me off my broom! Now I ask you; is that gratitude? I offer her the perfect opportunity to get her feelings out in the open, and she attempts to assasinate me!

Not only once, but twice! After practice, she tried to hex my bloody brains out in the Common Room! Sheesh, some people! I hate to think what she'd do to me if I told people that she sleeps with his picture under her pillow… I wonder if she actually does sleep with a picture of him under her pillow though… Probably. Oh, and I need to remember that Katie's never reading this either…

Ahh, well. Fred just came in to tell me that Katie's finally come out of her room. I must go and join him, Angelina, and Alicia in teasing her. Mwuahaha. Why not Harry, you ask? He doesn't know about any of the earlier happenings. Nice lad but he's so damn clueless! If perceptiveness was at all important to girls he'd never get laid at all. As it so happens (fortunately for him, I'm sure) he's kind of famous, rich, and not bad to look at. I'VE BEEN TOLD THAT, YOU JUDGING JOURNAL THING!

I'm okay… And I'm not gay. Hence the past references to deeply wanting to snog Alicia. Would have said shag but have strong gut feeling that she will some day read this and that would be the end of my life.

Maybe Katie isn't the only one who should consider therapy (you should see the look she gets in her eyes during Oliver's pre-match pep-talks; no one should be turned on by anything that boring!). And I did hear Angelina screaming something about old-man perverts earlier… I trust Fred won't be getting any action any time soon… Hehe. And he can never read this either…

-George

Hiya Diary-

Here's hoping that this one doesn't have arch-enemy Lord Voldemort's teenage self embedded in it… Hehe.

Ahem, anyway. Back to the problem. I need a solution. Which could prove a little more difficult than originally anticipated, as I have failed to tell you the problem. The problem is, I –well-ummm-I think… ilikeginny… What? You didn't quite catch that? Geez… Some diaries… I said I think I… like Ginny. Okay, there. I said it. Not only did I say it, but I said it audibly and clearly enough for you to hear. More so read, but oh well.

Yes well, now you know the problem. Time for a solution.

She's Ron's little sister. My best mate's little sister. My best mate's twelve-year-old little sister. I am not really very comfortable with girls being younger than me. At all. And the fact that she's Ron's younger sister… Well, that just makes things even more dandy, doesn't it! He'll throw me off the Astronomy Tower! That is, if I don't fling myself off it first for even considering liking his YOUNGER sister. And Hermione will stand over my mangled body and laugh, saying 'I told you so' over, and over, and over again! And then I will be dumped unceremoniously into a hole in the ground by Hagrid (who I'm sure only pretends to like me) and covered up by dirt just to stop the grounds smelling of mangled Harry flesh. And then Ginny will get older and conceive her many future-children right above my not-grave, with a guy who is much older than her and who is not clueless and younger-girl-phobic!

Hmmm… Maybe McGonagall gave me those 'how-not-to-become-emo-and-plan-your-terrible-death' pamphlets for a reason…

Nah.

But anyway. Everyone in the Common Room's been talking about Katie and how she's madly in love with Oliver. Now he should be afraid; she's two years younger than him! Apparently I'm clueless and missed all of this being found out and used against her during practice… I swear I wasn't looking for the Snitch that long!

So back to my problem… I need a plan. I'm strangely afraid of younger girls (and guys, come to think of it…). How does one overcome fear of younger people? I could ask… No, Hermione'll figure it out and make fun of me. I could ask… No again; Ron'll rip out my spleen with his bare hands… Yuck!

Okay, back to square one. I could go around snogging people in decreasing-age-order, until I get down to months, and then years younger than me… Whoa, that made me sound kind of pervy, didn't it… And it wouldn't work anyway, cause not that many people want to snog me.

I could slip Ginny some aging potion… But the last time we tried that, it was a tad too strong, and Malfoy ended up as a fifty-year-old grandma. I don't really fancy walking around Hogsmeade with a fifty-year-old grandpa. Ew. And I think Ginny might object to that as well…

I'll dwell on that for a while. Because Ron just came in. And I have to transfigure you into a carrot and eat you. Just so he can't read you. Safety precautions, you know…

Or, you could just hide me under your pillow…

Hey, I guess I could do that if… Wait a flipping sec! Not another diary that writes back!

Don't worry… This one doesn't contain Lord Voldemort's teen self. Just me; Kat.

Who the Hell are you!

The author. Oh, I should probably erase this from your memory. POOF!

Did you just call me a poof?

No, I said POOF! Your memory was supposed to be erased… I should work on that. Let's try again, shall we? Only, I'll use a different spell this time: AVADA KA- whoops, maybe not that one… Hehe… SQUIGGLY-WIGGLY!

Sorry, who are you again? I just drew a blank…

Who is who?

You…

Who?

What?

Harrrryyyy is confuuussseedd…

Who?

You.

What?

Not very clued in, are you…

Why is everyone against me?

author disappears

Helllooooo? Is anyone there.

Well, that was weird.

author reappears

What was weird?

I'M FRIGHTENED!

Hehe. I'm younger than you.

AHHHHH! leaves room screaming leaving diary on bed

Bwuahaha. I love scaring Harry. Now, who should find his diary…?

-Kat… Erm… Harry

Author's Note: Sorry 'bout that… Had to write myself in somehow. Okay, well, that was sufficiently random. I got the sudden urge to write about quidditch. And the Weasley twins. And Katie and Oliver. And everyone else… And for those of you who don't enjoy reading about how clueless or crazy Harry is… this probably isn't right for you. But on the other hand, if you like crazy authors writing themselves into the plot to scare Harry, then by all means, keep reading this story. Now, will hopefully update this relatively soon if there is any public interest (or if there isn't, because this is making me happy), and will also try to update MM, for those of you who hate me for all my random one-shots in procrastination. The new chapter is finished, it's these damn review responses that take a long time. Plus all my stinking end of year homework and projects and revision… But anyway. Bubbles!

-Kat