A/N: hides behind computer screen Um…hi? cheesy smile Look…I'm not dead! computers are hurled in general direction Gak! hides Sorry for not updating in, how long has it been now? Five million years? Yeah, so sorry! I had a really, really long um…brain freeze! Yeah that was it! A brain freeze! cough cough okay, okay. I admit it, I gave up on this story for a long while. I lost interest in Harry Potter fanfics. But I'm back! (Blame it on SharonToggle my sister she made me re-watch the movies, and now I can't stop myself) So, yesh. I'm sorry I suck at life . but now, for your reading pleasure is the next chapter of dramatic music QUIDDITCH!
p.s. – Please don't flame, and if you do try to make it constructive because a flame that just says 'you suck!' doesn't really do anything but hurt peoples feelings. If you flame it means you have a problem with the story. Understandable, you can't please everyone. Just please try and be considerate of other people's feelings.
p.s.s. – Sorry the flame paragraph was so long, it just bothers me when people don't give a reason for why they're upset or dislike you. If you explain your reasoning's instead of a hit and run of insults then (and I'd hate to sound cliché) but the world would be a much better place. Thanks being considerate. I hope you enjoy the fanfic.
Warning: Language. I couldn't help it, it's all Marcus' fault anyway! He's a mean, mean meanie. Rating may be raised to an R just for Marcus' language…Sorry if he offends anyone!
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Literally…tear (except for the idea, and the word arrangement of the story. Please don't steal! And if you want to archive it all you have to do is ask .)
Quidditch
Chapter Two: When Heaven Cries
The game had started over two hours ago, and still there was no sign of the competition letting up. Gryffindor was leading by only five points, and Harry had lost sight of the snitch. The players were tried, and the fans had sobered their cheering down to a dull roar instead of the all encompassing yell it had been at the beginning of the game.
Harry took up his usual position of hovering above the field, and searched for the snitch. A loud cheer from the Gryffindor fans caught Harry's attention for a moment. They were now leading by ten. He smiled, before he remembered that he had a ob to do. Where was that snitch? A small glint of gold made him immediately turn his gaze to the other side of the field, and just as he was about to pursue the speck of gold it began to rain.
The cheer echoed throughout the Quidditch field. Yes! They were up ten on Slytherin. Oliver grinned at Marcus as he glared in Oliver's general direction. Marcus' threat after the last game had worried him for a while, but Oliver was sure that if he had meant anything by it he would have done something by now.
Marcus was usually all talk anyway. Except for that time he got in a fight with that fourth-year after they called him a dirty cheat. And that time he sent that third-year to hospital after they had started a nasty rumor centered around Flint and some other Slytherin boy (Oliver had decided he didn't want to know what the rumor had entailed). So yeah, Marcus was all talk. Most of the time. Pretty much. Maybe. Possibly. Oliver sighed to himself, okay so never. When Marcus committed to something he went all the way, screw consequences.
Oliver shook himself out of his thoughts, he had to keep his mind on the game. He stole a glance at Harry who was floating above the Quidditch field, and just as Harry began to zoom towards the other side of the stadium it began to rain
This had to be one the worst games. It was long, and they were losing. Marcus was upset to say the least. The very least. A loud cheer came from the Gryffindor section of the stands and Marcus' temper flared. They were now losing by ten. Damn it. Marcus caught sight of a widely grinning Oliver Wood, and if looks could kill Oliver would have been dead five times over.
Flint smirked at that thought. Oliver dead, what a great day that would be. He just hoped he'd still be around when good ol' Ollie breathed his last. He had no words for how much he hated that particular Quidditch captain. Marcus hated a lot of people, almost everyone he met he found something he hated about them, but Wood was one of those people he just wanted to strangle, drown, stab, poison, or any other wonderfully fatal thing he could think of.
He glanced at the Slytherin seeker Draco Malfoy, whom he had decided an hour into the game was either blind or just plain stupid. Or both, Marcus was still debating. The only reason Marcus even remotely considered keeping him on the team was Malfoy' father. The rich bastard was prepared to buy the team anything they needed, in the hope that Draco would not be a royal screw up. Which he was, in Marcus' opinion.
That damned Potter began to fly across the field. He saw the snitch, Flint was sure of it. God damn it! Marcus was now convinced, Malfoy wasn't stupid or blind, he was the thickest, most uneducated and untalented little fuck Flint had ever laid his eyes on.
And just then it began to rain.
That was it, Marcus decided, something had to be done.
Harry was almost there, just a few more feet then the game would be over. He could just imagine Lee Jordan announcing his success over the speaker, 'Gryffindor wins! Harry Potter has caught the snitch!', Harry smiled. There would be a party, of course, his fellow Gryffindor's would pat him on the back and congratulate him on the great win. They would shake his hand and the Gryffindor's would have something to hold over Slytherin for a while. Draco would be furious, and Harry would enjoy every moment. A petty thing, he realized. But hey, he was only human.
Harry stopped his thoughts from going further, he was getting ahead of himself. First he had to catch the snitch.
The rain was making it a bit difficult to see, as the small drops clung to his glasses. He was merely feet away now…the snitch then suddenly made a break for it, usually Harry would be up for the challenge but oddly he just wanted this particular game to be over. He feverishly chased after the golden ball, vigorously trying to capture it once and for all. He ducked in and out of the towering stands filled with the rabid Quidditch fans who cheered him on the entire way.
He was soaring sheer feet to the ground now, he was so close to the snitch! It was almost in reach…and just then he felt someone hit his broom. Harry only had a few seconds to realize that it was Malfoy who had apparently seen him trailing the snitch by only a few inches. But the moment Draco's broom had connected with Harry's it gave Harry enough momentum to have his hand hit the target, and as Harry fell off his broom to the ground only feet away he realized he had something rather cold and round clutched in his hand.
"Gryffindor wins! Harry Potter has caught the snitch!"
A large grin spread across Harry's face as he lay in the soaked grass of the Quidditch field. He closed his eyes and savored the feel on the rain on his face and the sound of the other Gryffindor's cheering and yelling his name.
Marcus witnessed the whole thing. He was going to kill Malfoy. He was going to kill him. Harry had caught the fucking snitch. God damn it!! Marcus flew his broom higher, near the Gryffindor goal posts. If Wood was gonna gloat he had better do it now so Marcus wouldn't have to punch him out in the hallways. That might make Marcus late for class…
A small notion suddenly popped into his head, it would be so easy. Just give old Ollie a hard push off his broom then Marcus would never have to deal with him again. How fun that would be. Just a little shove, then and Oliver Wood Quidditch Captain Extraordinaire would fall to his death. Marcus gave a small chuckle, now that would be something worth seeing.
Oliver yelled in joy as he heard more that saw that Harry had caught the snitch. The rain was beating down heavily now. He turned his head upward and enjoyed the feel of it on his face, everything seemed to go silent as he savored the team's victory. What a great day. He couldn't wait until he could write his friends back at home and tell them his team had won another game.
He was just about to fly down to the ground when someone caught his eye. A figure started to fly toward him from the goal posts. The heavy rain, and darken clouds made them hard to make out to say the least. Oliver squinted in their direction, wondering if it was one of his team.
He was just about to call out to them when their slow and gentle glide towards him suddenly turned into a race against time at break-neck speed. The suddenly change in speed startled Oliver, as he tried to maneuver out of the way but was to slow. The person coming at him had to be riding a Firebolt.
Just as the figure was about to collide head first with Oliver, they swung around letting the back of the broom hit Wood full in the chest. The momentum caused Oliver to lose his balance on the broom, and he began to fall. Desperate not to make a sudden collision with the ground far below him, Oliver held one hand tightly onto the broom as the rest of his body dangled freely off the bottom of it. He tried to reach his other hand up, to so he might be able to climb back onto his broom, but his hand slipped because of the rain. He tried again but the small drops of water kept getting into his eyes making it impossible for him to see clearly – if at all.
His mystery attacker unexpectedly made a return visit. Oliver barely had a chance to try to grab the broom handle when they figure slowed to a halt just above him. Oliver looked up at them, and heard a laugh. They were laughing? That was not good.
The assailant leaned forward, "Send my regards to Potter," he spat, "for yet again winning another game." He snickered and with one final shove, Oliver began to fall.
As the rest of the Gryffindor team begun to land Harry noticed their captain was seemingly absent. Oliver was usually one of the first to land. Harry turned his head upward and slowly searched the darkened skies for him, when two shadowy figures way above the field caught his eye. The rain made it very difficult to make out who it was. Wait, one of them was hanging from their broom. If they fell they would never make it!
"Look!" Harry yelled, pointing towards the unfolding drama. And just as he said that, the person dangling from their broom, fell. The crowd began to scream, as they witnessed this seemingly unreal performance unfold before them.
Lightning flashed, and suddenly it all became gravely clear as the red and gold uniform of the quickly plummeting figure glowed brightly in the night for only a few seconds. Oliver was falling to his death.
Harry knew there would be no way to save him. Even if he got on his broom right now and flew as fast as he could he wouldn't make it. Not with his broom…
Harry turned around and in a split second had grabbed a Firebolt out of a nearby Slytherin's hand and mounted it, a resounding 'Hey!' came from the Slytherin but Harry paid them no heed. He kicked off the ground as hard as he could and quickly sped towards Oliver. He had to make it, he had to. Oliver's life depended on it.
It was surprisingly slow. He had always imagined falling from that high a drop would be swift, not leaving him time to even partially come up with a coherent thought. But he was wrong. It took an eternity. Maybe if he closed his eyes he would fall faster…
He wasn't going to make it. He knew it, but he still had to try. Harry squinted his eyes, trying desperately to ignore the stinging rain drops has he rapidly flew into them.
"Oliver!" He tried to yell over the crowd's screams, and the thunder roaring above. He reached out his arm to catch his falling teammate. Harry could feel Oliver's hand frantically try and get a hold of Harry's.
The world seemed to have slowed to a halt. Harry and Oliver locked eyes, a mix of panic and urgency filled both. Harry could read Oliver's emotions so clearly it almost frightened him. The rain continued its descent, and the once screaming crowd was now silent in morbid fascination as the tragic scene played out before them. But all that existed for Harry in that moment was Oliver's eyes, his fear, and finally Oliver's unheard scream as his hand slipped and he fell for the last time.
To Be Continued…
A/N: So what do you think? Who pushed Ollie off his broom? What happens now? What will Gryffindor do without their Quidditch captain? What could possibly happen next?!
Okay, to all you rabid Oliver Wood fans who won't read the upcoming chapter because I coughed (A/N: I'm not telling) Oliver you are sadly mistaken! I promise you right here and now, this is not the last of the fearless Wood! Come back to visit when more is posted and you will find out what I mean! Bahaha! Now, review! . please?
