A/N: This is a work of fiction using the characters from Harry Potter which is trademarked by J.K. Rowling

Prompt: Write about Oliver Wood during his fist Quidditch Match

Ever since he was five years old and his father took him to his first Quidditch match Oliver Wood was obsessed. Quidditch quickly took over his whole life. When he was ten his parents bought him a broomstick for his birthday and he spent every free moment he had in the sky. He even recruited his father to throw balls at him, so he could practice catching them mid-air and knocking them off course. His dream was to become Keeper on his house's team once he reached Hogwarts and from them make a career out of his passion.

Now here he was, years later, at Hogwarts and on the Gryffindor team about to play his first game. He sat in the locker room still shocked that he had made the team as a second year.

Oliver finished pulling on his Quidditch robes with shaky hands. He tried to calm his nerves, but it was no use. He valiantly regulated his breathing, his worry about hyperventilating and passing out overpowered his nerves about the game.

Oliver took another quick glance around the locker room and felt envy pool in his gut when he saw the relaxed stances of his fellow teammates. He knew it was irrational, since he was the only new player on the team, but he desperately wanted to be as calm and collected as everyone else.

It was difficult being the only new teammate. Everyone already had that comradery that came from working together as a team for years. Aaron, the captain, had taken a huge leap of faith when he chose Oliver to be their Keeper and Oliver desperately wanted to prove himself. He wanted to show Aaron that it wasn't a mistake to choose Oliver. He would be the best Keeper Hogwarts had seen in a generation.

"Team! Line up!" Aaron yelled out and everyone grabbed their brooms and jogged towards the hallway that led towards the pitch. Oliver stood with his teammates in the wings as they waited for their cue to enter.

Oliver had a white-knuckle grip on his broom and he was sweaty and pale. The seeker, Charlie, leaned over and whispered, "You're gonna be alright kid, promise" the redhead said when he noticed the complexion that Oliver was sporting.

"Thanks" Oliver whispered, almost inaudible to the human ear, and nodded his head. His mouth was dry as the Sahara Desert and his stomach was cramping uncomfortably.

"Mount up!" Aaron told his team, and everyone straddled their brooms. The team was anxious to get on the pitch and once the door opened they flew out and up into the air.

Oliver's breath caught in his chest as he took in the view. Sure, he had been to the Quidditch matches his first year but actually being a player and seeing it from this perspective was a completely life changing experience. The cheers from the crowd washed over him and quickly turned into just a wall of sound.

He looked around but couldn't spot any of his friends, the audience just a sea of red, gold, blue and bronze. He must have been still for too long because the next moment Charlie pulled up beside him and nudged him gently to get his attention, "Oliver, get into position" he said and jerked his head to the side.

Oliver nodded jerkily and flew off to hover in front of the rings. He narrowed his eyes and watched as Madam Hooch walked on to the pitch.

"Now, I want a nice fair game. All of you" she called out. Hooch bent down and released the snitch and bludgers. Once they were soaring through the sky she picked up the Quaffle and threw it into the air. The game had begun.

Ravenclaw had possession of the Quaffle and raced down the pitch, right towards him. Oliver lowered his upper body down so that it was parallel to his broom and slowly flew back and forth in front of the rings. He mentally prepared himself for the oncoming attack as the chasers approached.

A Ravenclaw chaser sped towards him and launched the Quaffle with unbelievable speed. Oliver raced to the left and turned in a sharp spin to bat the Quaffle away from the rings with the bristles of his broom. A cheer ran through the crowd and Oliver smiled when he saw his team racing towards the other side of the pitch, fighting to score the first points.

Gryffindor scored first and Ravenclaw was quick to get possession of the Quaffle once more. They raced back towards him in the hopes of even out the score. Oliver prepared himself once more when a gasp rang through the entire crowd. He absently wondered what had happened, but he didn't pull his attention away form the oncoming chasers.

If he had he would have seen the speeding bludger that was headed straight for him.

Oliver felt a blinding pain in the back of his head. His vision blurred, and he fell from his broom. As he fell he absently thought to himself that he hoped Gryffindor won the game before his vision was clouded in darkness and he drifted off into unconsciousness.

Oliver woke up in the Hospital Wing a week later and the first words out of his mouth were, "Did we win?"

A/N: Under a time-crunch, wanted to get this posted during my lunch break. No extra editing but a quick re-read and Spell Check