A/N: Oliver Wood races to save Harry before he hits the ground. This fic is set during the Prisoner of Azkaban, when Harry faints after encountering a dementor on the Quidditch pitch.
Disclaimer: Queen Rowling owns Harry Potter, not me.
Oliver Wood could not see a bloody thing. Even though he had the Impervius Charm set on his goggles (he'd used it since his second game playing Quidditch for Gryffindor), the rain made it near impossible to sit up straight on his broom. In fact, he'd never seen rain like this. It was freezing cold but not snow. It confused him, but he didn't put much brain power into it because he was so focused on the game. He swerved to duck another Bludger and narrowly missed colliding with a pass between two of his own players. "Wood! Watch it!"
He really needed to get his head back into the game. He shook off the cold and watched as Bell dove so that Johnson could pass to her. She caught the Quaffle with ease, cushioning the hard pass by swerving tight a bit and then zooming forward in the direction of the Hufflepuff posts. Once she'd scored, the Quaffle went back to the yellow and black team, and Oliver quickly scanned the field for his Seeker, like he did after every goal. This habit always helped him keep up with the game. When he failed to find Potter on the pitch in the split second he gave himself to do so, he blamed it on the weather. Thick fog had begun to cloud the Quidditch pitch, making the game ever more difficult. Once he blocked a goal by a blonde Hufflepuff Chaser and ducked their Beaters' dangerous hit, he looked again. His eyes did not deceive him. Potter was not on the Quidditch pitch. But where had he—
Everything went cold, all at once, as if someone had blown out every candle at Hogwarts. In the second that it took Oliver to adjust, a Hufflepuff Chaser slammed a goal into his leftmost post. "Get your head out of the clouds, Wood!" cried Weasley, and even in the rain he knew it was Fred. "What are you—"
And then his Beater's head tilted up, and he could see his entire face go slack. "Harry!"
Oliver would have looked up as well, but then he felt as though someone had slapped all of the happiness out of him like after his first game for Gryffindor...
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, sir, I didn't mean to—"
"You think sorry's gonna cut it, Wood? We lost that whole game because your head was in the clouds!"
Oliver's head hurt like nothing ever had before, but he ignored it as he apologized to his team captain. "It was an accident, sir, I swear! It'll never happen again!" The worst part was that Oliver could barely remember the match at all. He didn't know what he'd done wrong.
"It'd better not," his captain growled, pressing an angry finger into the boy's sore chest, "because I got you on this team as a second year, Wood! Don't you ever forget that! There are dozens of other Gryffindors begging for your spot! Gryffindors who are bigger, stronger, faster—"
His captain paused, and Oliver took that opportunity to begin his protests. "I know, sir, but I—"
He cut Oliver off by merely raising his hand and meeting his eyes. "But I saw that fire in you during tryouts and practice, Wood, and I know that you've got the best strategy and best Keeper skills this team's seen in a long time!"
"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir, I—"
"But I don't care that you're gifted or whatever the hell you call it! Sure, you've got talent, but you're a bloody second year! There are seventh years who I'd gladly see in your place if you feel like smashing your head open again! I mean, are you daft?" He hit the boy upside his already throbbing head, wrapped in thick bandagesIf I see any of that weakness on the field again, Wood, then I will as sure as bloody hell kick you off this team faster than you can say Cleansweep! Got it?"
"Y-yes, sir."
Oliver determined then, as his Gryffindor team captain stormed out of the hospital wing and his skull blossomed with pain, that he would never again fail at Quidditch. He would never let Gryffindor down again.
"Harry!"
"Wood, do something!"
"Potter!" Oliver screamed, and he dove faster than he'd ever done in his entire life. His Seeker was free-falling through the wild sky, barreling towards the ground at an incredible speed.
Oliver was not fast enough. Harry Potter was already so close to the ground; the impact would kill him and Oliver would not have been fast enough because he had been distracted by a stupid memory...
Oliver was always fast enough.
But not this time.
His heart was pattering in his chest like a rabbit on steroids as he flew to Potter, but he was too late and his Seeker was going to die and Angelina Johnson was screaming his name—
A/N: Thanks for reading!
Challenges used:
Fanfiction Writing Month: November []
Are You Crazy Enough To Do It Challenge - #3 (book title) Wild Sky
If You Dare Challenge - #747 (Falling Skies)
Character Diversity Boot Camp - #15 (practice), Oliver Wood
Your Favorite House Boot Camp - #37 (rain), Gryffindor
The Golden Snitch - Through the Universe - #46 (Dark Matter) - (characters) dementors
The Golden Snitch - Ollivander's Wand Shop - Peter Pettigrew - 9 inch - Write about a Gryffindor.
Writing Club - Character Appreciation - #23 (house) Gryffindor
Writing Club - Showtime - #12 Anatevka - (object) broom
Writing Club - Bex's Basement - #20 (Ant Man and The Wasp) - Write a fic that ends on a cliffhanger.
365 Prompts - #120 (Era) trio
Fortnightly - Around the Board - #11 (Quidditch Pitch) - Write about a known Quidditch player.