This is a little story about Oliver Wood finding out that he was born to play a different position on the Quidditch team than the one he had really wanted to play. This has been written for Ikrona's 'The First Day of School Contest'.
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Eleven year old Oliver Wood was up at the crack of dawn. He was far too excited about his first day at Hogwarts to sleep much. He looked at the wand on his bedside table fondly. He was finally going to be able to learn Transfiguration and Potions and Charms and everything. Best of all, he could fly whenever and for as long as he wanted to. He wouldn't have to worry about being spotted by Muggles anymore.
The thought of flying to his heart's content made him so excited, he could not stay in bed any longer. Five minutes later, he was on his way to the Quidditch pitch, occasionally asking directions from some of the portraits. After a few wrong turns thanks to the confused directions of an irate, drowsy portrait, Oliver finally found himself approaching the Quidditch Pitch, school broom in hand (the best he could find anyway).
He smiled as he breathed in the smell of dew on the grass; the earthy smell of the mud after last night's rainfall. This was where he really belonged. The sun had risen by now and Oliver happily walked onto the pitch. He looked up and was surprised to find a lone figure already flying around the pitch. The figure noticed the little boy and flew down gracefully.
Oliver was a little frightened by the stocky, freckled, red-haired boy who looked at least three years older than he was. "Hey don't be scared. I'm Charlie Weasley," said the redhead. "What's your name?"
"I'm O-Oliver Wo-Wood," stammered little Oliver, quite intimidated by the taller boy.
"You're in Gryffindor too, aren't you? You'll be in my brother, Percy's class," mused Charlie.
Oliver nodded, having met Percy the previous night.
"You must really like flying to be out here so early on your first day," smiled Charlie.
Oliver regained all his courage at the mention of his favourite pastime. "Oh yes! I can't wait to fly and I really want to be on the Gryffindor Quidditch team next year," he replied excitedly.
"Well you've certainly got the enthusiasm and passion we look for. I'm Seeker and Captain for Gryffindor myself," said Charlie.
Oliver looked at the older boy with a worshipful expression. It was truly a treat for him to meet the Gryffindor Captain right on his first day. "My dad was a Chaser. He played for the Wimbourne Wasps," said Oliver.
"Your dad's Ian Wood? You must be a really good player already, then!" exclaimed Charlie.
Oliver blushed slightly. "I haven't actually played much Quidditch. My dad says I'm a fair flyer, but we couldn't use the real Quidditch balls because we live in a Muggle neighbourhood," he admitted.
Charlie nodded understandingly. "Why don't you show me what you can do?" he said, mounting his broom. He nodded at the first year to do the same and they both kicked off.
Oliver followed Charlie around the pitch, enjoying the feeling of flying, especially since he was flying with a cool Gryffindor Seeker. He turned and twisted through the air, even blocking Charlie with a mischievous grin sometimes. He was just really delighted to be back in the air.
"I'm impressed," Charlie called. "You were being really humble when you called yourself a fair flier. You're an amazing flier, especially considering you're riding that mouldy old excuse for a broom. I'd like to see what you can do on a real broom."
Oliver blushed. "Thanks. I'm sure there's lots of room for improvement though."
Charlie smiled, struck by the little boy's humility. He even saw a good tactician in the making judging by the way Oliver had blocked him earlier. He flew down and returned with a Quaffle. "Let's see what your Chasing abilities are like," he called, throwing it to Oliver.
Oliver caught the ball easily, but he wasn't very good at throwing it back. After a few more throws, it became apparent to both of them that Oliver really wasn't much good at throwing while moving around. He didn't seem to be much good at staying in simple formations that Charlie tried to teach him, even though he grasped the idea easily and even made a couple of suggestions to improve the formations. In short, Oliver Wood just didn't have the talent to be a Chaser.
When he failed to throw the Quaffle through the hoop for the fifth time in a row, he spiraled away to the ground. Charlie followed him and they both landed.
"Hey, don't be sad. Everyone can't be a Chaser," soothed the older boy.
"But I have to be a Chaser," insisted Oliver, obviously distressed. "My dad's a famous Chaser! I've been reading about famous Chasers and memorizing their statistics for so long! I just have to be a good Chaser."
Charlie put a hand on the boy's shoulder. "Oliver, just because you aren't a good Chaser doesn't mean you can't play another position. I saw you catch the Quaffle every time. You'll make a wonderful Keeper some day."
"No I won't. I'm terrible at Quidditch."
Charlie threw the Quaffle at him. Even from the close range, Oliver caught the ball easily. "See?" said Charlie. "You caught it so easily. You have natural Keeper talent. You are truly good at Quidditch, just not at the position you thought you wanted. That doesn't mean you should waste the skills you so obviously have and give up playing. Trust me; a Keeper is as important as a Chaser. You're already doing so well at Keeping; imagine how good you'll be with a bit of training!"
"What if my dad doesn't like me if I become a Keeper? He wanted me to be a Chaser so badly too," said Oliver in a small voice.
"Your dad will love watching you play in any position because he'll see the talent you have just as well as I did. I'm sure he'll be impressed when he sees you play. You have the makings of a good strategist too. One day, you might even be Captain of the Gryffindor team," replied Charlie.
Oliver gave him a wide, grateful smile. "Then I'll practice every day so that I'll be the best Keeper at tryouts next year!"
"I look forward to having you on the team," grinned Charlie. "I'm sure that, one day, you'll even win the Quidditch Cup!"
Oliver smiled at his new friend. He knew right then, on his first day, that one day, he would win the Cup. He would make Charlie Weasley proud.
X-X-X
May 1994
Dear Oliver
I heard about the Quidditch Finals. Congratulations! I'm sure your dad's real proud of you right now. I still remember the little boy whom I talked to on his first day of school. I told you then that you'd be a wonderful Keeper. I hope you've finally realized I was right. I was impressed when I heard about how much you wanted the team to win. I heard about how hard you worked for it; how hard you made your team work for it. I am really happy to know that you are still the same, humble, driven eleven-year-old I met back then. More than anything, I was impressed to hear that you didn't want to win for your own pride, or for the team's. You wanted to win for the whole of Gryffindor.
I hope to get your autograph one day when you play Keeper for the British National team.
I'm proud of you, kid.
Charlie
I hope you liked it! Do review :)