I still don't own anything but Rhiannon and the silly things I'm doing to JKR's poor plot. Besides, if I did own HP, Rhiannon would really be on the Quidditch team instead of breaking cannon.
The Next year (which is the year before Book one) (age 12-13)
Rhiannon dove out of the way of the Weasley twins, her arm hooked firmly around the Quaffle as she streaked towards the Gryffindor goal posts. She was aware of Flint and Montague, the other Chasers near by, close enough to take the Quaffle from her if necessary. And then there were the goal posts with Oliver guarding them all too efficiently. She heard the Gryffindors cheering madly as Charlie Weasley sped after the Snitch. The Slytherins countered by viciously cajoling the Slytherin seeker Terence Higgs and herself to give the Gryffindors what for. Oliver lunged as she let the Quaffle fly, and caught it squarely just as Charlie Weasley's fingers closed around the golden snitch, and Gryffindor won the first game of the season 400 to 130. Oliver was a better and more experienced keeper by far than Miles Bletchley. Granted, it had been his first real game, and a very short one at that...The Gryffindors were rejoicing exuberantly, and the Slytherins looked very glum as the teams came down to the pitch and got off their brooms.
Rhiannon slid onto the empty seat next to Oliver, and said,pulling out her transfiguration assignment, "Great game yesterday, for the first of the year, wasn't it?"
Cedric, sitting across from them, looked up and grinned.
Oliver shrugged. "I shouldn't have missed so many of the shots."
"Heavens, Wood, you won!" Rhiannon exclaimed, slightly exasperated. "Bletchley ought to be the one complaining about how many goals he let your lot score, and I can tell you for sure that he isn't. Flint was the only one who managed to score a respectable-"
"Bletchley's new! He's never played a real game before." Oliver grumbled.
"Oh sure. Go make excuses for everyone except yourself." Rhiannon replied tartly, and gave up the subject all together.
After the last game of the season when Slytherin "flattens" Gryffindor
"Malfoy," Oliver's voice was harsh.
"What?" Rhiannon spat, viciously, turning around to face him across the table.
"Why in the name of Merlin did you do that for?" He growled. They were in the library, supposedly meeting to study for the end of the year tests, but Slytherin had just pummelled Gryffindor and won the Quidditch cup. As a result, this furious conversation was being carried out in venomous whispers, and Cedric was wondering why none of them ever remembered that Rhiannon and Oliver could never be in the same room peaceably after a Slytherin vs. Gryffindor game.
"Do what?" Rhiannon asked maddeningly, then without letting Oliver retort, "Oh nearly diving into you when Flint scored?" Her voice was aggravatingly innocent, and Cedric wondered why in heavens name she was bating Oliver.
"Yes that." If they hadn't been in the library, Rhiannon had the feeling that Oliver would have roared at her.
"I assure you, Oliver, I did nothing illegal. I didn't actually dive at you, I only looked as if I might," she hissed.
Cedric was struck by the unimportant fact that Oliver was raging like a lion, and Rhiannon was being as cool as a serpent.
