A/N: Well, now I'm continuing. Happy? *nods* 'Course you all are. Because I say so. *laughs wickedly*

Narrated by Oliver. ^_^

Well, I revised this chapter. The romance is.....shall we say, almost gone from this story? There's some in previous chapters (of course) but this is a Drama/Angst. And I like the friendship between Oliver and Harry. ^_^

Another disclaimer? None of this is mine, save Anthony, Jasmine, and B.J. Okies? I'm gonna get soooo sick of these....


~Broken Wings~
*Faith and Fear*



" It's good to see you back, Oliver." Madame Hooch's voice was brisk, as it always was, but I could find the relief in her words. " I'm going to put you with the first years - a few of the older kids are acting up - and I think a bunch of eleven-year-olds won't be too hard for you...." She eyed my closely. " Unless, of course, you'd like to take some time off." There was a long pause as she tenderly removed a chip from her broom. " How's your back?"

I smiled. " Fine." I was getting tired of giving out the polite response of, " I'm doing much better, thank you."

" Will you be in the air anytime?" Her question was more of a wish.

" I can't say," I answered, reaching for one of the brooms. " I can't believe I was ever afraid to fly."

She nodded sympathetically. " Yes, an accident like that can really manipulate you."

I didn't say anything, turned the broom over in my hands, laughed lightly. " Where'd you get the money for these?"

" Donations." A broad grin crept onto her face. " Aren't they beautiful?"

" Nimbus 2000's," I breathed. " They're not much compared to the Firebolt, but it's better than we've ever had." I set the broom back down. " I just wish I could get on one."

Hooch's hand fell on my shoulder. " You will. Someday."

The jumble of first years looked more like a bunch of monkeys than students. I sighed heavily, smiled inwardly, and approached them.

" Calm down!" I shouted firmly. Maybe I had a little bit of the Quidditch captain in me.

A small clump of girls began to giggle helplessly as I stopped in front of the class. A few of the students were watching me with intent, almost worried eyes. And then there were the boys, who seemed oblivious to my presence.

" I said, calm down!" I roared. The boys stopped at my sudden outburst.

So, this is being the teacher.

I smiled at the group of now terrified faces. " I'm Oliver Wood-"

" We know," a girl said.

I looked at her, and her cheeks grew a deep red. " I'm sure you do." I straightened, eyed the entire class. " Now, we're here to fly. I don't want any rough behavior of any sort." I took in a deep breath. " How far has Hooch taken you?"

A boy raised his hand. " We were studying the positions of Quidditch."

A knot began to form in my stomach. " What have you been taught?"

" We worked through the Chasing position," a red-head answered. I watched him a moment; he looked awfully like a Weasley.

No, Ginny's the last Weasley.

" We were going to study Keeper," a girl spoke up.

The knot in my stomach tied itself tight. " Keeper....Keeper is....it's one of the most important positions..." I started.

" Professor Wood? Weren't you Keeper for Gryffindor?" a boy asked.

The knot grew. I felt like I was going to throw up. " Yes. A long time ago, yes I was."

" Is it hard?"

" Is it true they're a target for Beaters?"

" Are you allowed to leave the goal posts?"

" Have you ever been hit with a Quaffle?"

I held my hands up. " One at a time!"

The class fell silent.

With a sigh, I pointed to one of the girls. " You had a question?"

She nodded. " Is Keeper the easiest position?"

I laughed. " No."

A boy raised his hand. I pointed to him. " Are Keepers really a target?"

" Yes. A Keeper can be attacked to allow a team member to score, but only if the Quaffle is within the scoring area." I winced. " Attacking a Keeper isn't a penalty when the Quaffle is in the scoring area. Though it is outlawed that not all three Chasers can be in the scoring area, the one Chaser may ram the Keeper and then score. But when all three Chasers are in the scoring area, and two are intent on raming the Keeper, this is called stooging."

" Have you ever been attacked, sir?" a boy asked.

The knot tightened. I swallowed. " More times than I can count."

" Have you ever witnessed stooging?"

I paused. Flashes of that game, two years ago......

*flash*

" You're mine, Wood."

*flash*



" Yes, unfortunately, I have. Head on."

" Sir? Is that how.....you got.....?"

I nodded slowly. " It is."

" Can the Keeper leave the scoring area?" a girl asked.

I nodded. " As often as they like, but a Keeper is advised to stay in the scoring area to guard the baskets." I began to pace, an old habit of mine. " In fact, before the scoring area was added, Keepers often acted as Chasers, but with an extra responsibility: guarding the goal."

" Did you ever leave the scoring area?"

This felt like an interview. " Yes, I have."

" Have you ever been hit with a Quaffle?"

" Many times. I tend to hit the Quaffle more than it hits me, though."

" Do Keepers have penalties?"

I laughed. I knew the answer too well. " Yes, very many, but the main one is called flacking. This is when the Keeper puts any part of his body through the goal posts to punch the Quaffle out."

" Have you ever done that?"

" I'll admit to it. Yes, I have."

" What are the penalty shots?"

" A Keeper is the most important player when it comes to penalty shooting. It's a shot from an opposing Chaser at the goal, and the only thing between them and scoring is the Keeper."

" Have you ever missed a penalty?"

I nodded. " Countless times." I laughed.

" Is it embarassing?"

I shrugged. " It can be, depending on the Chaser taking the penalty." I inhaled deeply, clasped my hands together. " All right, I'm going to take you to the pitch, and you're going to practice the Keeper in the air."

" Will you fly, Professor?"

The knot spread to my chest uncomfortably. I glanced at one of the spare brooms. " I might."

I sank into one of the couches in the Gryffindor Common Room. Hermoine and Ron sat at the other end, playing chess. Fred and George were huddled in a corner, toying with something. I guessed I didn't want to know what.

My eyes lingered on the fire. It looked so much like the fire I had seen not so long ago, when I finally took to the air.

" Oliver?" A hand rested on my shoulder.

" I'm not meant for the air," I muttered.

Harry sat next to me. " That's ruddy bullshit and you know it."

" I couldn't get into the air today," I told him.

" It's going to be hard."

I punched the couch beneath me. " This hard? Does it have to be this hard?" I leaned forward, put my head in my hands. " I can't believe I can't do it."

Harry's hand touched my back.

I flinched roughly. " Don't."

He took his hand away.

" It still burns."

There was a long, droning silence. I could feel Harry's eyes on me, they were always on me.

His voice interupted the silence. " You know the Prides are taking a trip to America this year?"

I nodded. " Yeah. To play the Fitchburg Finches."

" I think I'm going for the Prides someday."

I looked up at him.

He smiled. " It's a dream." A pause took hold of him, then he asked slowly, " The Pride's Keeper isn't the best.....

My weary laugh startled me as well as him. " No, Potter. I can't Keep. Blind, remember?"

" In one eye. McCormack looks as if she can't see at all." He sighed. " We all know you can outdo that Meaghan McCormack any day."

" She's a good Keeper," I protested. " I'd end up on reserve."

" You're a good Keeper," he answered. " She'll end up on reserve."

I looked back at the fire. " I'd never make it. Pride of Portree wouldn't take a blind Keeper."

" Do they have to know you're blind?"

Shocked, I faced him again.

He smiled broadly. " You're as good a Keeper now as you ever were. It's not wanting to get back on a broom that's making you a failure."

" It's not that I don't want to get on a broom again.....I want it more than anything....but....I can't...."

" Shut up, Oliver Wood! Where's the captain that drilled it into our brains that we couldn't walk away from Quidditch, no matter the defeat?"

I sighed heavily.

" We'll go for the Prides someday, Wood. Then we'll really show them how to whip the Fitchburg Finches!"

His fantasy sounded so wonderful, like the happy ending to a book I'd never read.

But maybe it was real.

A/N: Corny ending to a chapter, and I know it's a little short. I've got an annoying thing called writer's block, and it's really hurting, so please bear with me!