The ground below him was a blanket of fog, the sky above mirrored the ground. He could barely see the Quidditch players, let alone the people watching the game. Squinting into the grayness, Harry was immediately thankful for the water-repelling spell Hermione had put on his glasses when little rain drops began to fall. He could make out his teammates, their bright red and gold robes dark burgundy in the rain. Alicia, Angelina and Katie were spread out in the air, Katie holding the Quaffle. Fred – or George – was swooping around her, and George – or Fred – was hanging back near the Gryffindor goalposts. Wood, of course, was hovering in front of the goalposts. Usually, Harry listened for the commentary of Lee Jordan, but Lee had more visibility problems than the players and had given up on a decent commentary minutes before.
Harry was freezing, even with the thick Quidditch robes on. It was at least forty-five minutes into the match, and he didn't know the score. He made his way through the fog to Wood, and shouted, "What's the score?"
"All I know is that Slytherin has zero points." Wood shouted back.
Just then, Katie swooped in, her face flushed. "Just scored. We have forty points. Any sight of the Snitch, Harry?"
"Not yet."
"Better get it soon, or we'll freeze out here." Wood warned.
Harry nodded and zoomed up into the fog, trying to get above the gray, to no avail. To work off some nervous energy, he executed a few spins. When he stopped, a glimmer of gold sparkled just ahead of him. The Snitch! A rush of relief flooded him. Finally, an end to the game.
He shot forward, and suddenly noticed Draco Malfoy streaking towards the Snitch as well. Not again. Malfoy always manages to see the Snitch when I do. Harry groaned inwardly.
But he was faster, and reached the little gold ball seconds before Malfoy, grabbing it with stiff fingers.
Malfoy's face flooded with disappointment, and he dove back into the fog, pretending that he hadn't seen the Snitch and Harry hadn't caught it. In the fog and rain, the game would keep going until Harry was able to find his way back to Madame Hooch to end the match.
Still clutching the Snitch, Harry dropped closer to the ground, trying to reorient himself. He spun and found himself facing the Gryffindor goalposts. He headed towards Wood, holding his hand up.
"I've got the Snitch!"
Wood nodded and was about to signal to Madame Hooch that the game was over, when – "Oliver!" Harry shouted, a moment too late. A wild Bludger pelted through the mist and slammed into the Keeper's right shoulder, almost jolting him off his broom and sending him backwards into a goalpost.
Oliver hovered on his broom, his head lowered, for what seemed to be hours, but was only half a minute.
"Oliver?" Harry asked concernedly.
Silence replied. Harry turned to see George Weasley returning from defending Alicia, who had the Quaffle. "George. Tell Madame Hooch, I've got the Snitch. And Wood's hurt."
"Are you okay?" Harry asked again as George sped off.
When Oliver replied, his voice was constricted with pain. "My shoulder…I think it's dislocated."
Author's Note: Yes, I know… It's another Oliver-Quidditch-injury. He will not be in mortal danger from a dislocated shoulder…he will not be in the hospital very long, and, since I don't know where this story is going, I don't know what significance this has. Maybe none.