A/N: Thanx for reviews! They're great; very encouraging =) Poor Oliver is
having a tough time of it in this chapter . . .
*~*~*~*
Oliver Wood had called his team together for an Emergency Meeting out on the Quidditch pitch. This only occurred when something was desperately wrong... which of course, was the case.
"Listen, you lot," Oliver began, trying to grasp the right words to project to his uninterested audience. "The last Quidditch Practise was . . . well," he swallowed painfully, "it was . . .horrendous."
He tried to give his team a look of authority. "I never want to see play like that again," he crossed his arms.
"Chasers," he barked at the three girls, "If you aren't going to co-operate OFF the field, I am commanding you to do so ON the field and I want NO arguments."
All three girls looked up at him with three perfect scowls.
"Not in this life time," said Angelina.
"You can forget it," muttered Alicia.
"I'd rather lick a dead seal," declared Katie.
Oliver tried not to look disgusted at the thought of licking a dead seal, but decided to ignore their comments and concentrate on the next issue at hand.
"Potter," he glanced at the pre-teen, "I do not want you collaborating OUR Quidditch tactics with Malfoy. Do you WANT us to lose?"
Harry just glared at Wood sulkily.
Oliver then turned his attention to . . . the twins. He was puzzled. They had been so quiet lately - no acting up or tomfoolery, just a set of identical boys sitting silently while sometimes conversing in hushed whispers.
"Weasleys," Oliver called to them and once he had captured their attention, he was at a loss at what to say since they had been behaving perfectly for once, "Umm...just keep up the good work, won't you?"
This made Fred and George flush guiltily and they bowed their heads solemnly, sending Oliver into further bafflement. He shook his head. He had long given up trying to understand the workings of the Twins' minds.
"Anyway," he continued, "I want you all to follow the instructions I've given you and MAYBE . . ." here Oliver bit his lip, "we MIGHT be able to salvage the dignity of Gryffindor by a respectable win."
"NOTHING could ever salvage the dignity of Gryffindor, Wood," came a sneering voice, "let alone you lot gaining a 'respectable' win."
Oliver clenched his fists. "Flint," he said through grit teeth, not even having to turn round.
"Having some trouble with the old team, eh Wood?" Marcus Flint's mocking voice drove Oliver to turn and glare indignantly at him. He instantly wished he hadn't since the sight of Flint's disgusting yellow buckteeth was sickening.
The rest of the Slytherin Team was behind Flint, all broad, burly (with the exception of Malfoy) adolescent males clad in emerald robes.
"Sticking your incredibly prominent teeth in where they're not wanted, once again, Flint?" snapped Oliver.
"Oliver, if your Emergency Meeting is over now, I'd like to go and finish my Charms homework," Alicia interrupted, then cast a look around her in disdain, "plus, any excuse is good enough to get away from the riffraff they let into this school nowadays."
Oliver counted to two, knowing exactly what was going to come next. Right on cue, Katie shot back, "Huh, that's rich coming from you. Better to be riffraff than a good-for-nothing liar!" she glanced sideways at Angelina, "or a melodramatic attention seeker."
"Oh everyone better shut up, Little Miss 'Holier-than-thou' is speaking," Angelina said sarcastically, throwing Katie an incredibly dirty look and then turning to Alicia, "As for you - you're one to talk!"
Oliver caught sight of Flint's taunting expression and restrained the impulse to grind his knuckles into the Slytherin Captain's trollish face.
Eventually the chaos behind Oliver ended with each Chaser stalking off in different directions.
"Oh, Wood, that Cup is as good as mine this year," Flint grinned, teeth once again on display, "Your team seems a bit...emotionally dysfunctional. Why don't you save yourself the embarrassment and forfeit early from the match? That way you can keep this dignity you seem to think Gryffindor has," Marcus sniggered nastily, setting off a chorus of "ha ha ha's" from his fellow team-mates.
"Expect a fight, Flint," spat Oliver, "Gryffindor are not backing out."
Flint leant his ugly face horribly near Oliver's. "Your funeral, Wood," he leered, then snapped his fingers for the whole Slytherin team to follow him.
Harry ran after them, shouting loudly how he wished he could be on their team.
"My life is over!" Oliver threw himself down on the ground desperately, his head in his hands.
Fred and George glanced at each-other, then went to pull Oliver up from the pitiful way he was slumped on the grass.
"Listen, Ollie," said Fred; "Flint and Slytherin could never stand a chance of winning against Gryffindor. It's like you always say -"
"We are obviously the quickest, strongest and smartest team out there," finished George, quoting Oliver off perfectly.
"Not when my team is in ruins!" howled Oliver; "we can't be the quickest, strongest and smartest if no-one on the team is talking to each-other!"
George sighed. "There, there, Oliver," he glanced desperately at Fred for what to say next, but instead settled for patting Oliver on the head in what was supposed to be a comforting manner, causing Oliver to wince and pull his pounding head out of reach.
"It's no use being useless yourself, Oliver," said Fred, "the last thing we need is for you to go mental as well."
But Oliver seemed to be beyond consolation. "The Cup!" he wailed, "The glory of winning the Cup has disappeared once again!" And here he slumped back onto the floor for the second time.
"He was already mental, Fred, remember?" George arched an eyebrow in his brother's direction; "Unfortunately, there was never any helping him."
* * *
*~*~*~*
Oliver Wood had called his team together for an Emergency Meeting out on the Quidditch pitch. This only occurred when something was desperately wrong... which of course, was the case.
"Listen, you lot," Oliver began, trying to grasp the right words to project to his uninterested audience. "The last Quidditch Practise was . . . well," he swallowed painfully, "it was . . .horrendous."
He tried to give his team a look of authority. "I never want to see play like that again," he crossed his arms.
"Chasers," he barked at the three girls, "If you aren't going to co-operate OFF the field, I am commanding you to do so ON the field and I want NO arguments."
All three girls looked up at him with three perfect scowls.
"Not in this life time," said Angelina.
"You can forget it," muttered Alicia.
"I'd rather lick a dead seal," declared Katie.
Oliver tried not to look disgusted at the thought of licking a dead seal, but decided to ignore their comments and concentrate on the next issue at hand.
"Potter," he glanced at the pre-teen, "I do not want you collaborating OUR Quidditch tactics with Malfoy. Do you WANT us to lose?"
Harry just glared at Wood sulkily.
Oliver then turned his attention to . . . the twins. He was puzzled. They had been so quiet lately - no acting up or tomfoolery, just a set of identical boys sitting silently while sometimes conversing in hushed whispers.
"Weasleys," Oliver called to them and once he had captured their attention, he was at a loss at what to say since they had been behaving perfectly for once, "Umm...just keep up the good work, won't you?"
This made Fred and George flush guiltily and they bowed their heads solemnly, sending Oliver into further bafflement. He shook his head. He had long given up trying to understand the workings of the Twins' minds.
"Anyway," he continued, "I want you all to follow the instructions I've given you and MAYBE . . ." here Oliver bit his lip, "we MIGHT be able to salvage the dignity of Gryffindor by a respectable win."
"NOTHING could ever salvage the dignity of Gryffindor, Wood," came a sneering voice, "let alone you lot gaining a 'respectable' win."
Oliver clenched his fists. "Flint," he said through grit teeth, not even having to turn round.
"Having some trouble with the old team, eh Wood?" Marcus Flint's mocking voice drove Oliver to turn and glare indignantly at him. He instantly wished he hadn't since the sight of Flint's disgusting yellow buckteeth was sickening.
The rest of the Slytherin Team was behind Flint, all broad, burly (with the exception of Malfoy) adolescent males clad in emerald robes.
"Sticking your incredibly prominent teeth in where they're not wanted, once again, Flint?" snapped Oliver.
"Oliver, if your Emergency Meeting is over now, I'd like to go and finish my Charms homework," Alicia interrupted, then cast a look around her in disdain, "plus, any excuse is good enough to get away from the riffraff they let into this school nowadays."
Oliver counted to two, knowing exactly what was going to come next. Right on cue, Katie shot back, "Huh, that's rich coming from you. Better to be riffraff than a good-for-nothing liar!" she glanced sideways at Angelina, "or a melodramatic attention seeker."
"Oh everyone better shut up, Little Miss 'Holier-than-thou' is speaking," Angelina said sarcastically, throwing Katie an incredibly dirty look and then turning to Alicia, "As for you - you're one to talk!"
Oliver caught sight of Flint's taunting expression and restrained the impulse to grind his knuckles into the Slytherin Captain's trollish face.
Eventually the chaos behind Oliver ended with each Chaser stalking off in different directions.
"Oh, Wood, that Cup is as good as mine this year," Flint grinned, teeth once again on display, "Your team seems a bit...emotionally dysfunctional. Why don't you save yourself the embarrassment and forfeit early from the match? That way you can keep this dignity you seem to think Gryffindor has," Marcus sniggered nastily, setting off a chorus of "ha ha ha's" from his fellow team-mates.
"Expect a fight, Flint," spat Oliver, "Gryffindor are not backing out."
Flint leant his ugly face horribly near Oliver's. "Your funeral, Wood," he leered, then snapped his fingers for the whole Slytherin team to follow him.
Harry ran after them, shouting loudly how he wished he could be on their team.
"My life is over!" Oliver threw himself down on the ground desperately, his head in his hands.
Fred and George glanced at each-other, then went to pull Oliver up from the pitiful way he was slumped on the grass.
"Listen, Ollie," said Fred; "Flint and Slytherin could never stand a chance of winning against Gryffindor. It's like you always say -"
"We are obviously the quickest, strongest and smartest team out there," finished George, quoting Oliver off perfectly.
"Not when my team is in ruins!" howled Oliver; "we can't be the quickest, strongest and smartest if no-one on the team is talking to each-other!"
George sighed. "There, there, Oliver," he glanced desperately at Fred for what to say next, but instead settled for patting Oliver on the head in what was supposed to be a comforting manner, causing Oliver to wince and pull his pounding head out of reach.
"It's no use being useless yourself, Oliver," said Fred, "the last thing we need is for you to go mental as well."
But Oliver seemed to be beyond consolation. "The Cup!" he wailed, "The glory of winning the Cup has disappeared once again!" And here he slumped back onto the floor for the second time.
"He was already mental, Fred, remember?" George arched an eyebrow in his brother's direction; "Unfortunately, there was never any helping him."
* * *