AN: You guys are the best! I love how you all seem to really get into it. Makes me feel accomplished. Poll is officially closed. Just a tiny warning: if something really just doesn't work, I'm not going to keep that pairing and try and force it to fit in the story. If I haven't gotten back to you about your review yet, then I'm really sorry, and I'll try to get to you soon. Thanks, as usual, to the 395 favorites and 642 follows this story has somehow managed to achieve. A ton of thanks goes out to reviewers jodic, Narcissa Weasley, Cassandra30, serialkeller, Books are air, Majerus, ihaveasandbox, , Snowball1982, RRW, Makurayami Ookami, phoebe turner, Katzztar, Bananas-ofthe-WorldUNITE, Sunny-Donna, CrimsontheBloodyDemonKing, B00kw0rm92, Nikeya, serenityselena, Spring Raine, Kairan1979, Yana5, Lightningblade49, red-jacobson, and MariusDarkwolf. Yeesh! That list keeps getting longer and longer!
Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter franchise.
Today's the day, was the thought running through more than a few minds. It was the Gryffindor-Slytherin Quidditch match, and the tension was so thick you could cut it with a slicing hex. Roger Davies smiled evilly. Oliver Wood mustered up his Gryffindor courage. Draco Malfoy smirked happily.
"Shake hands," Madam Hooch ordered. Oliver and Flint shook, the former trying not to show how badly it hurt. This was it. If they couldn't beat Slytherin, he may as well say goodbye to Puddlemere United.
Harry, meanwhile, was trying not to look at Malfoy. The blonde boy was gloating about their new brooms, and Harry thought he might just be sick. Oliver was counting on him to win this match. The keeper hadn't said anything out loud, but the whole team could tell Oliver was stressed.
Madam Hooch blew her whistle, and the fourteen players, half red and half green, set off. The Slytherins had an obvious advantage with their Nimbus 2001's. They literally flew rings around the lions, but everyone thought back to Oliver's speech. Harry was so focused on looking for the snitch that he almost didn't notice the Bludger heading straight for him until it was too late. He swerved out of the way at the last minute, and George whacked it to the other end of the pitch.
"Alright there, Harry?" George shouted over the wind.
Harry didn't have time to respond, for the Bludger was heading back.
"What the-" George muttered, diving in front of Harry to bat the Bludger back. It flew away, but once again aimed straight for Harry. George hit the ball yet again and communicated silently with his twin. Fred signaled to Oliver, who got the hint.
"And Gryffindor calls for a brief time out, they're currently in the lead, 10-0," Lee announced.
"What's going on?" Oliver asked, knuckles white from clutching his broom.
"Someone rigged the Bludger to follow Harry around," Fred told him angrily.
"That's impossible," Oliver frowned. "Those Bludgers and the rest of the equipment have been locked up in Hooch's office since practice last night."
"Somehow, someone got in and did something to them," George swore.
"We'll have to forfeit," Oliver said, downtrodden.
"No!" Harry shouted. The team was taken aback by his outburst.
"Harry, that thing could kill you," Alicia protested.
"I don't care," Harry lied stubbornly, heart hammering in his chest. "I'll just have to avoid it, s'all."
"You can't be serious," Katie said faintly.
Madam Hooch was fast approaching.
"Oliver, make him see sense," Angelina begged.
"Do you really want to do this?" Oliver asked, looking him straight in the eye. For a moment, Harry's throat closed up. No, he wanted to say. No, I don't. I want to start it all over, be a boy who isn't Harry Potter, in some school without Draco Malfoy and people trying to kill me.
But then he thought of his friends, how they stuck by him and stuck up for him, how much he had missed them over the summer, and how Oliver might just die if he couldn't get on the Puddlemere United team. And that made up his mind.
"Yes."
"George, cover Harry. Fred, help the others," Oliver instructed immediately. "Stay focused."
And then they were back in the air with a persistent Marcus Flint and an annoying Draco Malfoy. George flew insistently close to Harry, repeatedly smacking the rogue Bludger away as his twin tried to save all three chasers.
"Training for the ballet, Potter?" Malfoy jeered when Harry twirled in the air to confuse the Bludger. George hit it towards Malfoy, who smirked as it swiveled to hit Harry. Just at Harry opened his mouth to retort, he saw a flash of gold near the pale boy's ear. The snitch.
Harry got closer to the pale boy, hoping to confirm. There was no denying it; the snitch hovered right by Malfoy without him even knowing it. George hit the Bludger toward Malfoy again. This time, it got close enough to Malfoy that he had to dodge. Harry raced forward, closing his right hand around the fluttering ball.
"And Gryffindor has-" Lee shouted.
The Bludger slammed into Harry's right arm, prompting a sickening crack. He dropped the snitch and caught it with his left hand. But now he couldn't use his right arm, which meant he was only holding onto his broom with his legs. Fred flew over and whacked the Bludger. It seemed that Harry has upset Malfoy, who tried to attack him. George had prevented the second year from doing so, but that had given the Bludger a window of opportunity.
George tried to keep Harry from falling by grabbing his right arm. Harry let out a hiss of pain. He couldn't think, it hurt so badly.
"Gryffindor wins, 170-0!" Lee hollered over the speaker. "What a game! Even after the Slytherin team has bought new brooms and a very stubborn Bludger attacks Harry Potter, the lions win the first match of the season."
Oliver took the snitch from Harry and pulled him up by his left hand. Carefully, he and George guided him to lie on the ground, arm sticking out at a weird angle.
"Harry?" Hermione called frantically. "Harry, how many fingers am I holding up?"
"Three," Harry said groggily. "Hermione, my arm's hurt, not my head."
"Just making sure," She said doubtfully.
"Harry, dear boy. What appears to be the problem?"
"Oh no, not you," He groaned.
"Doesn't know what he's saying," Lockhart told the crowd. "Alright Harry, looks like you've got a broken arm. I know a very simple spell…"
Harry tried to roll over and get away from the pompous man, but his arm hurt too badly to move.
"Now hold still, Harry." Lockhart frivolously twirled his wand in a way that Harry was sure would accomplish nothing good.
His arm, starting at his shoulders and spreading down to his fingertips, felt as though it was being deflated. Everyone around him gasped and whispered.
"What the bloody hell did you do to him?" Ron fumed.
Colin's camera clicked at a furious pace.
"Well, sometimes that can happen," Lockhart blustered. "The important thing is that your bones are no longer broken. If you just make your way up to the Hospital Wing, I'm sure Madam Pomfrey will sort it out."
Harry looked down at his arm and felt rather light-headed all of a sudden. All of the bones in his arm were gone!
Oliver helped Harry up, shooting Lockhart a glare. "Sorry about that, Harry. I shouldn't have let him do anything."
"It's not your fault," Harry told him.
An official looking man beckoned to Oliver to come over. He glanced at Harry uncertainly, but the twins swooped in and took hold of the seeker.
"We've got him from here, Ollie," Fred said.
"Sorry I let that Bludger hit you," apologized George.
"It's not your fault," Harry repeated. "You were just trying to get Malfoy to leave me alone. Besides, Madam Pomfrey can fix me up, right?"
The twins traded scared looks. "Right."
"Mr. Wood, can I first congratulate you on your excellent game?" The wizard was going bald, but he seemed very jovial. He was slim and just a bit taller than Oliver, wearing expensive red and white robes.
"Thank you very much," Oliver could tell this was someone important.
"Is it true that you've been on the team since your second year?" The man asked eagerly.
"Yes, that's right." Oliver wondered what this was leading up to.
"What broom do you play on?" An Irish man in green and yellow robes spoke up to Oliver's right. He turned and saw a large group of men all watching him interestedly.
"Er, a Cleansweep six," Oliver replied.
"And you managed to keep any chasers from scoring, all of whom were on Nimbus 2001's?" This came from a heavyset man in pale blue and silver robes. All around Oliver, the men muttered, awestruck.
"Yes." Oliver was getting impatient.
The first man quickly intervened before any of the others. "Mr. Wood, my current Keeper is going to retire after two more seasons. I'm offering you a starting position as soon as you graduate."
"Hah!" A man wearing light green and scarlet striped robes scoffed. "I'll offer him starting position next season. He'll be the youngest player in Britain!"
The first man didn't like that. "Don't be ridiculous! He won't want to play for Gryffindor and Caerphilly at the same time, and he's not quitting Gryffindor. Mr. Wood, if you play for my team, I'll throw in a top of the line racing broom."
The other men began sulking; clearly, they couldn't compete with that offer.
Oliver didn't even notice the smile making its way across his face.
"The Wanderers would be lucky to have you, Mr. Wood."
"The Wanderers?" Oliver echoed, stupefied. Of course, he realized. The Wigtown Wanderers wore robes of red and silver. All of these guys wore their team's colors. He hurriedly looked over the others, searching for the blue and yellow Puddlemere robes.
The scouts perked up; obviously the boy had his heart set on a certain team. But his eyes moved away from the gray and white Falmouth Falcons, and he didn't seem drawn to the black and red Ballycastle Bats.
"Which one are you looking for, son?" Ragmar Dorkins, the Chudley Cannons manager, asked kindly. He knew he wouldn't have gotten the boy anyway. For one thing, no one wanted to be on the Cannons. For another, Ragmar was sure that after one season, he wouldn't be able to afford Wood anymore.
"Er," He flushed at being caught. "Puddlemere United," He admitted.
Christopher Durham of the Wimbourne Wasps snorted. "Kid, Puddlemere doesn't scout at Hogwarts. They're too good for that," He sneered.
Oliver's mind reeled. No Puddlemere? But that was impossible! How could he not know that? Take the best offer! His mother's voice screamed at him in his head. She had always said he'd be lucky if he got signed to the Chudley Cannons. She'd be furious if she found out he'd thrown away all these offers just for a shot at Puddlemere.
But his father would've understood. Tristan Wood had been an avid Puddlemere fan, and he'd taught his son everything there was to know about the sport and the team. Tristan had been a broom tester for Cleansweep, and something had gone wrong with the Cleansweep five. Tristan had died the summer Oliver received his captain badge. He had vowed to make it on to Puddlemere, for his dad.
"And that's where you're wrong, Christopher," A deep voice said from behind Oliver. "I do come to games here at Hogwarts, but only when it's worth my time to do so."
Oliver spun around to find Philbert Deverill, manager of Puddlemere United, dressed in blue and yellow robes, smiling down at him.
Harry was having one of the best nights of his life. After some convincing from McGonagall, Pomphrey let almost the whole of Gryffindor stay with him in the Hospital Wing. The only ones missing were Percy Weasley and Oliver Wood. Even Ginny had showed up! She and Colin sat talking, with the girl occasionally looking over at Harry and blushing.
"Hey Ron," Harry whispered to his friend.
"Yeah?" Ron said, mouth full of chocolate frog.
"Ginny doesn't seem to hate me anymore."
"Yeah. I might've had something to do with that," Ron shuffled his feet.
"What d'you mean?" Harry asked.
"I didn't give away anything!" Ron promised. "I just told her that the diary was really dark, and that you saved her from something really bad."
"That I saved her?" Harry hissed.
"It's true," Ron shrugged. "Besides, she likes you a whole lot more now. She and Colin are even starting up a Harry Potter fan club."
"You've got to be kidding me!" Harry groaned.
"You guys!" Oliver Wood shouted as he burst in through the Hospital Wing doors.
Madam Pomfrey bustled out. "Mr. Wood, if you can't be quiet-"
"Pomfrey!" Oliver shouted as he hugged her. "Thanks so much for healing all of my players, getting them right back out in the game. I know you'll always be able to heal them!" She froze in shock. "Harry is gonna be okay, right?" He pulled back.
"Y-Yes, of course," She said. He hugged her again. "That's great!"
He let go and sat on the empty bed next to Harry, grinning wildly.
"Um, Oliver?" Alicia began. "I know you're happy when we win games, and you're really happy when we win games against Slytherin, but I've never seen you this happy."
"In other words," Fred said.
"What gives, Ollie?" George questioned.
"Well, am I glad you asked. You see, I've just been signed to Puddlemere United."
The reaction was instantaneous.
"Oh Merlin!"
"What?!"
"That's amazing!"
"Congratulations!"
"How?"
Oliver sat there, soaking in the praise. "Every team 'cept the Holyhead Harpies was there, but I couldn't find Puddlemere. All of the managers were asking me stuff and trying to get me on their team, but I was holding out for Puddlemere. And then, Philbert Deverill shows up and says he only goes to games when he thinks they're important, and that he'd like to have me on the team. After I graduate, I'll be on the reserve for a year, and then I'll be on the team for real!"
"What did I miss?" Percy thought aloud as he strode into the Hospital Wing.
"Oliver got signed to Puddlemere United!" Lee announced.
"Seriously? That's awesome!" Percy congratulated Oliver.
"But that's not the most important part," Oliver said slyly.
"What's more important than finding out you're gonna be a professional Quidditch player?" Percy frowned.
"Finding out who you were snogging out by the library," Oliver replied smugly.
Percy flushed a dark red as the lions laughed.