This chapter is also set in Oliver's first year.
Thanks to Aebbe for the idea for scene two!
It's the Easter holidays of his first year at Hogwarts, and Oliver Wood is, unsurprisingly, on his broom.
There's been a bit of a ruckus in his family – his sister's letter with more inkstains than words said something about a fight between his little cousins leading to a problem with their house's plumbing – so he's remained at Hogwarts for the holidays. It's been much more enjoyable than he anticipated; the Quidditch pitch is free four days a week, and three of the other Gryffindor boys, two of the Gryffindor girls, Edward, and Edward's friends have also stayed for the holidays. Though they don't quite have enough players for two full Quidditch teams, there's enough to make it a decent game – and the opportunity to play on a full-sized Quidditch pitch is payment enough for not going home.
To make things more exciting, Oliver's even created a quasi-House Cup. It's more focused on individual players and their skillset, and he's designed it to help people decide which position is best for them. He, of course, knows that he's best at Keeping, though he's keen to try out some different positions – if his friends manage to get their heads around the idea.
He's even managed to get Percy to participate in this, though it took a fair bit of persuasion. Though he's achieved a passable grade in Madam Hooch's flying lessons, Percy's still not particularly fond of flying, and tends to come up with outlandish excuses as to why he can't practice with Oliver.
"I've still got all of McGonagall's essay to write!" Percy cried once, despite having the completed essay in front of him.
"I've got a detention from Professor Binns," was another attempt, although he's widely regarded as being Professor Binns' favourite pupil.
But whether it's the fact that it's the holidays or that he fancies challenging himself, Percy is participating in the almost daily Quidditch "matches".
Why he's here, Oliver isn't sure. Percy hasn't said, and Oliver hasn't asked.
None of the others particularly seem thrilled that Percy's participating – it's quite clear to them all that he's the weakest player, and whilst they like him as a person, they don't want him on their team. Every day, the teams change, and every day, Oliver has to glare at at least three people whose expressions immediately drop the moment that Percy's name is announced.
It's for that reason that Oliver does his best to make sure that Percy has direction on what to do, no matter what position he's in, and that he's included in the team spirit.
"Percy, I'm here!" Oliver shouts at the top of his voice, one hand in the air to signal to him exactly where he is. "Percy, pass me the Quaffle! Percy, Percy, PERCY!"
Percy throws the Quaffle, but the other team intercepts it.
Evidently, Oliver's not subtle enough to succeed as a Chaser.
.
The day after, Oliver's a Beater.
On this occasion, he forgets that Percy isn't on his team when he whacks a Bludger away from him.
Whilst this normally wouldn't be a problem, it just so happens that it whacks it into Fiona Jones, someone who is on his team, and results in a broken arm, concussion, and a day's forced bed rest.
Whoops.
.
On their final Quidditch session of the holidays, Oliver lets people choose which position they wish to play in. Thankfully, nobody else wants to be a Keeper – though whether that's because they really don't want to or whether they think that it's safer to keep Oliver out of a position where he can cause harm is unclear – so Oliver gets his dream role.
Percy's on his team and plays the role of Chaser, which suits him well. Though Oliver wouldn't say that Percy would ever improve enough to be in the same league as Charlie, he's definitely gained in confidence over the two weeks of near constant flying, and Oliver's proud of his friend.
"Jones!" Oliver shouts across the Quidditch pitch, his voice carried by the wind. "Jones! Watch out for Bones!"
His warning comes just in the nick of time for Fiona, who manages to roll out of the way of a Bludger hit at her by Edward. He's his team's captain, and is determined to beat Oliver. Childhood friendships often form intense, albeit friendly, rivalries, and this is certainly one of them. The "Wooden Cup", as Oliver's tournament has come to be known as, will be won by one of them, and their performance in this match will decide the winner.
The rest of the match continues much in this vein, with Oliver shouting words of advice and warning across the pitch at his teammates in between saving the Quaffle. There's no messing around in Quidditch for him; he's not going to accept defeat.
He's hyper-alert of the whereabouts of every single player on the pitch – so focused, in fact, that he doesn't even notice the fact that there's a red-haired boy on the ground, watching his every move.
"YES!" Oliver shrieks, the word becoming lost to the pitch only audible to animals in his excitement at Livvi Miller catching the snitch for his team. "WE WON!" he continues, abandoning his post to gather together all of his teammates in order to celebrate. It's a meaningless victory in the grand scheme of things – but in this moment, it means everything to Oliver Wood.
Percy – the boy who was never expected to participate in the match, let alone score five goals – is the first person Oliver hugs, their embrace causing Percy's broom to take a terrifying nosedive.
Fiona is the second, and somewhere in the garbled words coming out of Oliver's mouth is an apology for when he broke her arm.
After he's hugged the other three members of his team, Oliver flies across the pitch to his counterpart, and best friend, Edward.
"Good game," he says, his tone civil, as he extends a hand out. This is a move that he's noticed at the end of every Quidditch game his mum has taken him to, a mark of respect between the teams.
Edward shakes his hand, a rueful smile on his face, before pulling him in for a hug. "Nice roll when you blocked Harrison earlier – have you been practicing without me?"
"Thanks mate, I saw it in Quidditch Weekly ages ago, and it looked pretty useful!" Oliver replies, his tone ecstatic. It's the "I'm talking about Quidditch" voice, and it's most often used with Edward.
Gradually, the twelve of them make their way down to the ground, and towards the changing rooms. Oliver's the last one to leave the pitch, his gaze longing as he takes in the euphoric moment. Hopefully, there'll be many more moments like this during the next six years – if he makes it onto the team.
A noise to his left startles him out of his trance, and Oliver turns to see nobody other than Charlie Weasley standing there. Like Percy, he hadn't gone home over the holidays, but Oliver's more concerned about whether he can speak like a normal person in Charlie's presence.
"Hey, Wood, how's it going?" Charlie begins the conversation, his tone easy.
Oliver takes a deep breath before speaking, praying in the name of every Quidditch player he knows that he'll be able to speak. "I, erm, good thanks, you?"
Charlie grins. "I've had the pleasure of watching your "Wooden Cup" finale – and I have to say, I'm impressed at what I've seen," he says, and Oliver feels his mouth drop open. "Not only good keeping, but I liked how you worked with your teammates. You even remembered to shake hands with your opponent – which is something that I've forgotten to do in both games so far," he continues.
"I, erm…" is all Oliver manages to say.
"You're good, Wood, especially for a first year. You've got a bit of work to do on your movement around the posts – you tend to leave the right-hand one undefended at times – but I can definitely see you on the team in the future."
Oliver's speechless. Whether this is better than rambling, however, he doesn't know.
"I shouldn't be telling you this, but I'm doing trials for next year's team in June rather than in September," Charlie continues speaking, despite having an extremely unresponsive conversation partner. "And I'm going to be looking for a new Keeper. So keep that in mind. See you, Wood."
There are a million thoughts milling around inside Oliver's head, but only one manages to escape before Charlie leaves.
"How did you know that we were down here?"
Charlie turns back, still grinning. "Percy's been pestering me all holidays to come watch you play, so I thought I better show my face before he goes completely mental at me."
It's in this moment that Oliver realises what a friend he has in Percy Weasley.
.-.
Oliver storms into Professor McGonagall's office, a reluctant Percy in tow, without as much as knocking first.
She raises her eyebrows when she sees the identity of the intruder, before speaking, her tone icy. "Out and knock, Wood, before I have you in detention for the rest of the year."
Oliver doesn't move, his expression filled with rage.
He lifts his hand so that she can see the piece of paper within its grasp, before he starts reciting what it says.
"As of the new academic year, first year students will not be permitted to bring broomsticks with them to Hogwarts. This is a decision which has not been taken lightly, and is based on a series of events which have taken place over recent years. Should your child be in possession of a broomstick upon their first day at Hogwarts, this will be returned home immediately."
McGonagall sighs. "I am perfectly aware of what the letter says, Wood, given that I wrote it."
At this point, Oliver explodes. "Why? What does this achieve? All it will do is create a gap between the first years and the rest of the school – there will be less opportunity for them to develop flying skills which will mean that there are less skilled Quidditch players. Flying isn't just something you can pick up on the spot – it has to be developed. It's a CALLING, Professor! You can't just stop first years from having brooms – you already make them have to pass a stupid test to get on it! Why?"
Professor McGonagall, to his surprise, doesn't immediately give him detention. "Four hundred and seventy two."
Oliver pauses the next part of his tirade, confused. "What?"
"Over the course of this year, you have given me four hundred and seventy two reasons why first years should not be permitted broomsticks," she clarifies. "You have been late to my class fourteen times because you 'lost track of time', you have caused damage to Gryffindor Tower's roof in your misguided endeavour to sneak your broomstick into the dormitory, and seventeen people have been injured because of your inability to focus on anyone or anything other than playing Quidditch. So, Wood, you are the reason that first years are no longer permitted brooms."
"But—"
McGonagall rolls her eyes. "Another word and it's detention every night for the rest of term."
Oliver, wisely, stops and storms out of the room, an apologetic Percy pausing to apologise for interrupting McGonagall's private time before scurrying after him.
"It was worth a try," Oliver says, after he's calmed down a little.
Percy snorts. "You wouldn't have achieved anything even if you'd written a full paper on why she was wrong. You've screwed up so much that they've created an entire new rule to stop anyone becoming like you, Oliver. My brothers would be proud."
.-.
May rolls around and brings exams with it.
Oliver's more nervous than he should be – this is the first major test of being a wizard: what if he doesn't do well?
What if he fails?
He can't fail; his sister would do anything to swap places with him, to be welcomed into the Wizarding World as a witch. He can't betray her like this.
"Percy," Oliver begins, hesitating. It's nine pm, and it's long past curfew, but he still doesn't think he knows enough for tomorrow's exam. "What d'you think the odds are of me passing McGonagall's exam?"
"Well, you've mastered all spells to do with changing objects' appearances pretty well, so you should be alright."
"Great."
Percy looks up from his own notes and realises, perhaps for the first time, how stressed Oliver is.
"I think you'll smash it, Oliver," Percy says, his tone sincere. "You've picked up colour changing spells faster than anyone – and everyone knows how hard they are to master. Plus, you've had me as a tutor, and there's no way that you'd fail with me behind you."
For the first time in the thirteen hours and twenty six minutes since the Transfiguration cramming began, Oliver smiles.
Perhaps he'll do alright.
.-.
"PERCY, PERCY!"
Percy jolts awake to the sudden shrieking of his name, with Oliver grinning down at him.
"PERCY!" Oliver adds, just to make sure that he is, indeed, awake.
"What time is it?" Percy mumbles, looking at the watch on his bedside cabinet. "Oliver, it isn't even nine am yet. Please can I go back to sleep?"
Oliver ignores him, his tone betraying his excitement. "I GOT ON THE TEAM, PERCY!" He shouts, surprised at himself that he's managed to keep it quiet for the fifteen seconds he's been in the room already. "I'M THE NEW GRYFFINDOR KEEPER!"
At this point, the rest of the Gryffindor boys get up and crowd around Percy's bed, shouting and clapping their congratulations to Oliver.
"Congratulations!" Percy exclaims, struggling to sit upright. "Did many turn out?"
Oliver grins, belatedly realising that his broom is still over his shoulder. "Three other people went for Keeper – Fiona, then some fifth years – but they all let in at least two goals. I got a clean sheet! I'M ON THE TEAM, PERCY!"
The five boys continue to discuss the ins and outs of the trial – with more than a little embellishment from Oliver – for the last four days of term, until Professor McGonagall tells them that if she hears one more word from any of them about Quidditch, there will be no more Gryffindor Quidditch Team.