It happened during practice.

The day had been, as Oliver was prone to saying, a perfect day for quidditch. The conditions were brilliant; a clear sky, fair temperature that was neither too hot or too cold and a faint breeze that would ensure no interference. It was everything he could've wanted.

He'd hauled everyone out of bed quite early; they were grumbling swears and insults at his expense under their breath, yawning, glaring at him, which he pointedly ignored. He'd expected that, shame was that none of them except for Oliver were early risers. Although, Harry had been the easiest. He didn't to try lash out or bury himself back underneath the blankets, and, might he add, which was more than he could say for the others.

When they arrived on the pitch, Oliver exhaled happily. The sun was just coming up, casting a yellow shadow over the land. The field was all theirs, because, surely no one else would be up at this house. He didn't want to risk waking any of the other houses and giving them any ideas, so using the sonorous was out, he'd have to settle for gesturing. That made him realize his team was horrible at guessing and made a mental note to organize a game of charades for a later date.

He'd been up in the air, directing Harry on how he needed to change his approach for catching the snitch so Malfoy didn't get too used to his techniques. He needed to be thrown off-preferably off the side of the astronomy tower, but Oliver would settle for less.

Then, when he least expected it, it happened.

He'd leaned a little too far to the right, before he knew what was happening, he was falling toward the ground.

His mind vaguely registered the terrified screams from the girls. One of the twins flew by, aiming to grab him or attempt to cushion his fall a bit, but he wasn't fast enough. Oliver fell to the ground with a sickening crunch and blacked out immediately.

He awoke to the faces of the twins hovering far too close. Percy was there as well, telling the twins to get back and to leave him alone; there was no anger in his voice, instead it was laced with worry. Percy had abandoned his breakfast and set for the hospital wing soon as he heard.

"How are you feeling?" Percy asked, anxiously. "Are you in pain? Are you thirsty? Fred said you fell pretty hard on your head-how many fingers am I holding up?"

"Perce," Oliver grinned lopsidedly, a bit amused by his dormmate's mothering tendencies. "I'm fine."

Madam Pomfrey was less than pleased. Oliver had multiple broken bones that would require a lengthy dose of Skel-o-grow to mend them all back properly. She scolded Oliver, insisting that by now as a seventh year, he should have known better than to lean too far to one side.

He'd taken the whole thing in stride. Each one of his fellow teammates came to see him, bringing an assortment of candy from Honeydukes, Cedric Diggory stopped by to see how he was doing and so did a few very attractive admirers-Percy had rolled his eyes at how Oliver had, erm, possibly played out his injury to be a bit worse.

"You're despicable," Percy snorted.

"Oh, like you wouldn't have done the same."

"No, I wouldn't have. I'd of been honest."

"And that's why I'm going to get shagged before you."

It was later on, when Madam Pomfrey finally managed to shoo Percy away with the promise that he was able to come back tomorrow when Oliver mildly asked when he'd be able to leave. He was anticipating on a one night stay, maybe relax for half the day tomorrow and by after dinner, be back on the pitch for practice. It was Monday and they had a game on Saturday. Naturally, it was against Slytherin.

Oh, he could just bet that Flint was down in the dungeons with the rest of those slimy snakes, cackling at knowing that Oliver was there. He probably thought that Slytherin had a clear shot at winning; well he needed to guess again. A little injury wasn't going to keep Oliver down, that was for sure.

It was as if Madam Pomfrey could see right in his head, because in the next second she burst his bubble.

"Mr. Wood, this was a serious injury," she pursed her lips disapprovingly. "You are very lucky it wasn't worse. I'm going to need you to stay for a few days until your bones are healed."

"A few days?" he spluttered as he practically watched his dreams explode before his very eyes. "What about quidditch? What am I supposed to do? We have to practice! The match is Saturday!"

"That is not my concern," she said, sternly. Her hands went to her hips, which was horribly reminiscent of his mum. If it wouldn't land him a smack upside the head, he'd of mentioned it to her. "My concern is your injuries. You will stay here, that is the end of it. I won't argue with you."

He didn't want to push his luck, should she get fed up and call upon one of the professors to deal with him. "Sorry, Ma'am," he muttered. The anger slowly melted away, she nodded, conveying that she accepted it. "I can still play, Saturday, right?"

It wouldn't give him much time to prepare, he'd need to wake up a few hours prior to the match, maybe he could even manage to drag everyone else out. They'd be furious, Angelina might even hex him like last time, but it was worth it if they won, despite the minor setback.

Oliver thought his world slowly ebbed away, collapsed into nothingness by the way Madam Pomfrey's face morphed into an expression of sympathy.

He wasn't going to be able to play, not for three or four matches. Even once his bones fused back together properly, he would be in a great deal of pain and after all the bludgers he'd taken to the head, she couldn't give him the pain potion that she normally would-too risky.

He'd begged, he'd pleaded, he'd tried to bribe-turns out a cauldron cake and a feeble promise of trying to keep Harry out of the hospital wing didn't win her over. She was adamant, already having gone to discuss it with Professor McGonagall so she was aware.

It felt like a nightmare. Oliver moaned his woes to Percy; how his future was bleak, the end of his aspiring quidditch career was over before it even started. It was all for nothing now.

And Percy wasn't helpful in the slightest. He rolled his eyes, called Oliver dramatic and said he'd be back in the air soon enough.

"Are you done?" Percy said, bluntly after hearing Oliver's whining for the umpteenth time. He was balancing his essay on his leg, which was halfway crossed over his other.

Oliver stared at his best mate in angst. "This is serious and you're asking me if I'm done yet?" He fell back on the bed with a plop.

"You know, if I wanted to see theatrics, I'd go find Fred and George," Percy said flatly, but there was no mistaking the undeniable amusement gleaming in the red head's eyes. As if he was trying to suppress his laughter, Oliver didn't doubt that.

Oliver asked-actually he bribed, which turned out far more successful this time around-Percy if he'd gather up the team and send them his way so he could inform them of the changes being made. It took promising-and uncrossing his fingers by Percy's prompt-that he wouldn't be as noisy as he had been while waking up for his early morning practice.

(He'd first said he wouldn't wake up early at all but they'd both known he hadn't meant it. So, he settled for the next best thing).

Between telling them and being pulled into bone crushing hugs by Angelina and Alicia, it was Harry who inquired as to would be playing as their keeper on Saturday.

Oliver hadn't given it much thought-or any at all. There were no reserve keepers because he hadn't ever taken a day off of quidditch since he joined the team.

"What about that one bloke, McLaggen?" Katie suggested.

"No way!" Angelina and Alicia said immediately.

"What's wrong with him?" Harry asked, puzzled.

"He's a git," Angelina said fiercely. "I'd rather shag myself senseless with a rusty nail than play on a team with him."

"Well, we haven't got much choice, do we?" Fred spoke up.

"Fred's right," George agreed. "McLaggen may be dumb, but he's a decent flier. Only option we've got, too."

"Not necessarily," Oliver said, his face brightening up.

The team looked his way, faces scrunched with confusion.

It took a lot of persuading, many times of Oliver downright pleading. He wasn't about to let Flint and his team win, not if he could help it.

"Please!" Oliver begged. "Please, please, please!"

After he was released from the hospital wing, Oliver had taken to following Percy more so than usual in an effort to get him to agree. The first time he brought up the suggestion, Percy had stared.

And stared.

And stared.

Not believing that Oliver was being serious.

Oh, but he had.

"No!" Percy barked.

"Please!" Oliver wasn't above begging. He dropped to his knees-ignoring the pain that radiated-and grabbed the red-head's legs. "Say yes, Perce! Please! I'll do anything! I know you can play; remember first year when we snuck out and-"

"Okay!" Percy's voice went up in pitch. He glanced around before settling a glare down at him. "You said you'd never bring that up again."

"I'm desperate!"

"I'll say," Percy muttered. Oliver felt a sense of hopefulness; Percy was was having several emotions cross his face at once, as if he was contemplating on it.

A few seconds passed and Percy made a nose of annoyance. "Alright, alright. I'll do it. Now let go of my leg, you git!"

Percy was the only person Oliver would trust. He didn't want some newbie, which would take more time trying to get them acclimated and knowing how their techniques and he really didn't want any friction caused by McLaggen. They needed to be focused and prepared. And sure , Percy didn't play but he'd gone to quidditch practices with Oliver before he joined the team, and could be just as wild, he just hid it better.

Not to mention, it might help Percy find some common ground between him and his siblings. Oliver despised seeing how apart they were most of the time and how the twins just wouldn't let up on teasing Percy. It'd be nice for them to get along.

Of course, that would be after they won the cup. Family you could fix anytime. But this; this was his last shot.

Once everything was settled and Oliver gave notice to Professor McGonagall that Percy would be stepping in, he was faced with the melancholy of having to sit in the stands with the rest of Gryffindor.

He hadn't done that since his first year and even then he'd tried to wait out in the locker so he could beg Charlie Weasley for a spot on the team because he just knew he'd be good.

Needless to say, Charlie hadn't appreciated the heart attack he got after Oliver jumped out of the dark corner just as he was pulling down his pants to change.

Percy had told him-matter-of-factly, too- that he was a nutter when he asked Oliver where he'd gone.

But then, oh but then, Lee Jordan heard about the predicament and offered to let Oliver commentate for the game if McGonagall didn't mind.

Oliver could have kissed him.

And the miracle was that McGonagall actually approved! Oliver reckoned she was probably relieved to have a break from spending majority of the game threatening to take the megaphone away from Lee. Still, he was going to size the opportunity that was given to him.

It was the day of match.

Oliver was sitting adjacent to Professor McGonagall, with Lee on the other side. Lee planned on introducing Oliver as the temporary commentator before going to dart off to the Gryffindor stands to watch from there.

Right now, both teams were moving from the locker room to where they be standing until it was time for the captains to shake hands. Oliver hoped that Percy had taken his advice on his pre-game speech. Initially, his friend wasn't going to that so of course that meant Oliver had to shake some sense into him.

"It's important, Perce," Oliver insisted. "Sets the whole mood. What if we loose because they weren't motivated enough?"

Percy rolled his eyes. "I'm sure you lot'll live either way."

"Percy!"

"Alright, alright," he groaned. "I'll tell them to do their best and have fun. Happy?"

No. Oliver was most definitely not happy. "Fun?" his eyes were wide with horror, practically twitching. "Fun!? This isn't about fun, Percy, this is about winning!"

"Oh, come off it, Oliver," Percy's voice bordered on scolding. He also looked like he wanted to smack him for that remark. Oliver wouldn't doubt it; Percy was usually finding one reason or another to smack him. "Winning isn't everything."

Oliver chose that moment to smack him that time.

"Now, Mr. Wood," Professor McGonagall said, breaking him out of his thoughts, peering at him over her spectacles. "I trust you will do a better job than Mr. Jordan at controlling your mouth, yes?" She gave Lee a pointed look, with her lips pursed.

Her tone didn't really allow him to disagree.

"Of course, Professor," Oliver responded. Then, to Lee, he said, "Thanks again. Don't know what I would've done just sitting there."

Lee lightly punched his shoulder. "Aye, no problem. Anything for Gryffindor's best captain!" He leaned closer to Wood, adding, "'Sides, I think McGonagall was close to stunning me last time."

"Wouldn't doubt it," Oliver muttered. "What'd you say, anyway?"

"And there goes Angelina Johnson, one of our lovely chasers! What a beauty she is on that broom. What I wouldn't give for her to ride me like that-"

"JORDAN!"

"Nothing worse than usual," Lee said, shrugging.

The other students in the stands began cheering when the players started to come out. It felt awfully different being up there instead of a broom. He gazed down, longingly.

Lee took hold of the megaphone, either not noticing or ignoring the warning look that was shot by Professor McGonagall. "Welcome to the first quidditch game of the season!" he boomed. "Today's game is Slytherin verses Gryffindor!" There was another round of cheering. "I'll be handing the mike over to a good friend of mine to take over for a while; you know him, he's ruthless on the pitch, a bit of a fanatic and has a rather good-"

"Sometime before the game ends, Mr. Jordan," Professor McGonagall said, crisply.

"Of course, Professor-the one and only OLIVER WOOD!"

Oliver looked down at the pitch, some of his teammates were cheering and throwing their fists into the air. He grinned.

"Oliver's taking over until he's back in to proper health. But before I scamper off, let me introduce you to Gryffindor's temporary keeper: Percy Weasley!"

Amidst more cheering, Oliver saw how red Percy's face had gotten. He was never particularly fond of having attention on him, let alone practically the entire school. He gave the red-head a thumbs up, to which Percy returned with a grimace that suggested he was feeling quite nauseated.

"You got this, Perce!" Oliver yelled out in support.

Lee handed him the megaphone, whispering good luck to him before he departed. After Madam Hootch ordered them to have a nice, clean game while keeping her eyes on Flint, per usual, the game had begun!

It was exciting, it was thrilling. Oliver practically bounced, trying to pay attention to all areas of the field at once, gripping the edge of the stands.

"The quaffle is in the air-and Pucey has it!" Oliver frowned. The game was starting off on a wrong note already. "He's going, going-ARG! Ten points to Slytherin." He scowled when Flint tossed him an infuriating grin over his shoulder and if not for Professor McGonagall sitting next to him, he might've given him a rude gesture in return. "Girls!" he spoke into the megaphone loudly. "How did not catch that? C'mon, that was easy! I think I need to add more weekday practices."

"Consult with your team after the game, Wood," Professor McGonagall said, looking at him over her spectacles.

"Yes, Professor. Sorry, Professor," Oliver's gleaming eyes were watching Percy like a hawk as he flew in front of the goal post. "Flint's got the quaffle this time, not that I expect him to score. He couldn't even hit the broad side of the Knight bus."

Flint turned his way and made a very rude gesture.

"Mr. Flint!" Professor McGonagall shrieked. She craned her neck back over to where Professor Snape was sitting, nonchalant despite the offensive signal one of his students had just made. "Severus, what do you intend on doing about that?"

"For what?" Professor Snape feigned ignorance.

"For what ?" Professor McGonagall was outraged, rounding up on Snape and giving him a piece of her mind. But Oliver didn't focus on that too much; he was keeping a steady gaze on Percy as he came flying up to shield one of the goal posts.

Oliver gripped the megaphone. "Don't let him score, Perce! You can't do this to me!"

He avoided the raised eyebrows and incredulous looks from his teammates. "Heh," he grinned sheepishly. "Us. I meant us."

They didn't believe him.

The quaffle went flying and Oliver's hold tightened. His knuckles went a sickly white. "There goes the quaffle, thrown by Flint. It's going, going-Percy, don't you dare let him score- annnd YES! Percy Weasley blocks the quaffle, leaving Slytherin, so far, in the lead with ten to nothing. Come on you lot, remember our practices!"

He ran a hand through his hair. This was becoming stressful.

The snitch was nowhere in sight. Malfoy was right on Harry's tail, following him around everywhere he went-if it hadn't been for Daddy Malfoy supplying the team with those brooms last year, Oliver was certain that Malfoy never would have made the seeking position on his own merit. The kid simply wasn't that good, especially compared to Harry's natural talent-oh, he was puffing up his chest in pride whenever he thought of it. Course, that fact seemed that it hardly mattered to Flint, so long as he got bragging rights to grate on his nerves. Which , it did but Oliver tried to refrain from making that known. There were few things that were okay for a snake to know-that was not one of them.

Percy was nearly knocked his broom when one of the Slytherin players-who Oliver didn't care to recall a name for-slammed into him. "You bloody cheater !" Oliver boomed into the mic.

"Mr. Wood-"

"You just wait until after!" It was an empty threat, admittedly. But he couldn't just sit there and let those dirty snakes think they could get away with it! If he really had to, he could try to take them.

"Mr. Wood," Professor McGonagall was warning him, "you do not threaten other students. Do not force me to take over for you."

"Of course, Ma'am," he flashed her a smile and then put a more serious expression back on his face when he turned back to the game. "Come on, Perce! Don't let it bother you. Shake it off and go on!" He blew the whistle he always wore around his neck. Most of the surrounding professors immediately covered their ears and he could feel Professor Snape glaring at him.

"Thirty points from Gryffindor!"

"Severus!" Professor McGonagall was not happy.

Flint floated nearby Oliver with a nasty grin on his face. The Gryffindor itched to wipe it off his face. "Hey, Wood, how do you spell loser ?"

"Hey Flint, how do you spell ugly?" Oliver shot back. If Percy was paying attention, he'd probably give him a look for engaging in pointless banter with Flint again .

He took out the muggle binoculars he'd asked his mother to send him and held them up to his eyes. There; now he could easily see what those gits were up to-wait. What on earth were Fred and George doing? He'd taken them aside numerous times before the game to stress the importance of one making sure that they kept the bludgers away from the rest of the team and the other ensuring that Malfoy wasn't trying to throw Harry's game off or sabotage anything.

And what were they doing? Not what Oliver told them to do. Plus, their techniques were horribly off. It was completely unacceptable. "Fred, George," he said loudly in disapproval, "come on, we talked about this! You know better than that!"

"And Angie-" Oliver was given a death glare by said girl with fire practically blazing in her eyes and the criticism he was prepared to give, died on his tongue. "You look great," he offered. She flew away in the opposite direction, shaking her head.

The crowd suddenly roared. Oliver jerked, startled upon realizing that the snitch was spotted! Funnily enough, it was buzzing right around Flint before it darted off. Harry saw it and went after it with Malfoy on his tail, just as everyone predicted. It was a nervous moment for Oliver, a real nail biter.

They couldn't fail him now. Not after all the hard work he'd put in over the years with his own training and what he'd done to help his team succeed. Oliver had all but told Percy his future rested with this one last game. With good reason of course.

"Don't you think you're exaggerating?" But Percy looked unsure.

"Of course not!" Oliver shook his head madly. "If I lose this game, my entire quidditch career will be over."

He clasped a hand on Percy's shoulder. "But no pressure!"

How had Harry not caught it yet? Oliver had been watching him for nearly two full minutes and nothing! Just zooming around in the air trying to dodge Malfoy's attempts at knocking him off his broom-which, apparently, was a preferred tactic of theirs.

"HARRY! STOP WASTING TIME AND GET THE BLOODY SNITCH!"

"Mr. Wood," Professor McGonagall growled. "I'm warning you-"

Oliver was waving his arms crazily, barely registering his professor's words. "Of course, Professor- yes! Yes! So close! Just a little bit more!"

Professor McGonagall sighed and sat down, her face in her hand.

Oliver was alerted to incoming danger when he saw Flint scoot closer to one of his own teammates, then flying off in Harry's direction. His heart leaped, breath hitching.

"Get away from my players, Flint; you lying, cheating scum!" Oliver bellowed.

Harry narrowly avoided a collision, managing to duck and swoop below. Thank Merlin he was tiny enough to do so. Oliver wiped away the sweat beads that had gathered on his forehead. "He's close, close, closer -"

The crowd erupted into cheers, all except from the Slytherin side.

Harry had caught the snitch! He'd done it! Oliver jumped to his feet, throwing his fists into the air. "Gryffindor wins! Take that you losers!"

" Mr. Wood! "

Oliver rushed toward his teammates, pulling each of them into a bone crushing hug. The girls squeaked in pain and the twins grunted. He kept Harry in the embrace the longest, sobbing into his shoulder.

"We did it!" He cried. "I've never been this happy before!"

"Er, great," Harry patted him on the back, awkwardly.

"Oi, let him go, Oliver," Percy snorted.

Oliver's head snapped up and he soon abandoned Harry-well, technically shoving him to the side, disregarding the oof of surprise the smaller boy gave-and grasped Percy's shoulders. "If it wasn't for you, I wouldn't have won!"

Percy rolled his eyes. "Yes, yes," but he was grinning. "It was actually quite thrilling. Fred and George said I should play keeper when we're home for the summer holidays. I might just do that. So, now that this is over, are you going to focus on your studies?"

Oliver looked at him like he was mad. "Are you mental? Now I've got to start preparing for try-outs!"

Percy shook his head as he listened to Oliver babble on as they walked up to the castle, where they would be heading to the party up in Gryffindor Tower.