A/N: Update for you here, straight from my bouts of insomnia to you. Yay for productivity! I've been wanting to include this flashback and it finally gelled into the story for me :) Please take the time to leave me a review, I find them truly inspiring!

Disclaimer: If I owned anything useful, hitting woodland creatures with my car would still be bad (It wasn't on purpose!)

The Third Chaser

"Mister Wood! How do you feel after your accident at practice last week?"

"Mister Wood, do you think that you are fully recovered?"

The wizarding sportscasters, as well as a few paparazzi that managed to sneak onto the pitch for the after game interviews, were firing inane questions about Oliver's health. Holding down the fort on the Puddlemere side were Cliff, Oliver, and of course Kevin Pryce. He limited access to his players by the press, especially after a long, hard game when they were likely to say something stupid. Cliff always had to deal with the press, being the captain and lead chaser of the team. Coach had decided that it would be best for Oliver to stand with him for this particular set, seeing as how his keeper was rumored to
have been impaled on a broomstick during their last practice.

"I assure all of you, I am in good health. Now do any of you" Oliver wished to say bloody irritating gnats, but he settled on "journalists, have any questions having to do with the match that just finished?" Oliver was quite tired of dealing with these people. He'd much rather be cleaning up, hiding in the locker room or most likely trying to
talk Sig into doing something other than sulking.

"What do you think of the Harpies side after this most recent encounter?"

Oliver considered the question. The real answer is that they were saved by their seeker pulling off a fantastic catch of the snitch from under the edge of a beater's broomstick. The chasers were completely off their game, and in Oliver's opinion, nearing the end of their career. The team did not play the same way since Gwennog went out on maternity. Their keeper might as well have been on a vacation in the south of France.

"Hollyhead is always a challenging opponent, and this was a long and hard haul for everyone. Look at the scoreboard, a close match there. Celia Connely has done an admirable job catching the snitch for the Harpies today." All the reporters noted the politically correct remarks and the thirty point score differential.

"Don't be so modest Wood," Cliff interjected, "you did a wonderful job, only allowing five goals during this almost four hour match! Not too bad for someone who was eaten by a rouge hippogriff," Cliff winked at a young reporter who began to furiously take notes.

"Gentlemen, I appreciate your enthusiasm, but I must beg you to let my boys head off to the shower. I'm sure Cliff's wife must be waiting for him, and no one wants him to head home covered in Quidditch grime, do they?"

A few chuckles from the reporters and they let the players head back to the lockers. Coach stayed a bit longer and let them harass him about the loss.

"Although I have a good guess, where exactly were you the other day?"

"Katie." Oliver sighed. He chanced a glance at Cliff's face and plainly saw the 'go on' written there. "Long story short, there was a situation that caused Katie to have a panic attack. I've never seen her quite like that, I couldn't leave her."

"I know what you mean man, if Karla had that kind of an accident, I'd be a basket case."

"Of course you would, Karla makes sure you remember to breathe." Oliver joked while giving Cliff a 'manly' shove. "One thing that I don't get, was how was Coach alright with it? Me just taking off and all?"

"He's got a soft spot. He lost someone in the War, doesn't want to see you denied the opportunity he didn't get, I expect." Cliff needed to turn the conversation from the depressing path it had taken. "So, when you get married to that lovely lady, you are required to allow him to make a speech at the wedding!"

Oliver looked appalled at the prospect. "Actually," Cliff continued with an evil gleam in his eye, "all starting members of Puddlemere are going to make speeches!" Then Cliff ducked into the locker room to avoid the angry verbal torrent of Scottish brogue that was disagreeing with that plan, on many levels.

Whump!

"Wow Katie, you're really getting some of your strength back!" Bennett
was pleased at his daughter attempting physical therapy. The healers thought performing a familiar motion might cause more nerve pathways to open. He tossed the ball gently back to her.

"This makes me feel useless. I can toss a quaffle, big deal," Katie unhappily caught the ball and hurled it back at her father.

Bennett chucked at his daughter, "Do you want me to get a pin and stab your toe? See if it hurts?" He tossed back the red ball.

"Don't you need to get back to mama or something?"

"I'm sure she can hold down the fort, it is her sister that is visiting after all." Bennett glanced over at the door and noticed Oliver standing there with a bouquet of purple peonies. He pointed to the door as Katie was about to hurl the quaffle at her teasing father with all of her might. She instead sent it slamming into Oliver's chest, forcing him to drop the delicate bouquet to catch the all important quaffle. Katie's face showed the complete shock and horror of accidently throwing to the wrong person.

"Looks like you're getting that arm back Kate. Good thing you weren't playing for the Harpies earlier."

Oliver looked at the meandering group from which he was supposed to assemble a team. It was his first year as Captain, and he was GOING to win the Quidditch Cup. As he looked around at the faces, he began to worry. He was going to need two new chasers and seeker, and the fifteen broomstick owners ranged from excitable to cocky.

"Alright then" Oliver pointed to the air, where the Weasley twins were trying to knock each other off their brooms with the bludgers. "If you want to be a beater and think you could actually compete with those two, please come forward."

A few of the assembly skittered back toward the broom shed. "That's great guys, you'll do a bang up job for Gryffindor again this year!" he called up to the twins.

"You doubted us Wood?"

"All those wishing to try out for the open chasing positions please step forward, Seekers please go to the stands and wait to be called."

Oliver looked at the seven warm bodies in front of him. He was pleased to note Alicia Spinnet was standing there, looking nervously from him to Angelina, who had been on the team the year previous. Oliver knew they were best friends, and Alicia had done a fantastic job as a last minute sub in the match against Hufflepuff last year, when she filled in for a chaser who inconveniently had a detention. She had several points and assists to her credit.

"Everyone take three laps of the pitch to loosen up. The Weasleys are still practicing, so watch for bludgers." Seven broomsticks took flight.

After a lap of watching Oliver turned to Angelina "Who do you like early on?"

"I don't want it to seem like favoritism, but Alicia..."

"She's already on the team. She had a trial-by-fire last year and came out on the good. Plus, I've seen you and her practice, she's solid. If she'd been to see me before today, she'd be standing down here."

Angelina's face flooded with relief. "Other than that, the boy with the brown hair looks like he has potential, the blonde girl, the small one, can fly very well."

"I think that the blonde might be a little," Oliver stopped mid-sentence as the blonde under discussion performed a barrel-roll out of what appeared to be boredom. How dare she! "SHOW SOME SPEED!"

After countless passing drills and dropped quaffles, he allowed all the try-outs to take penalty shots on him. So far, the blonde and the brown-haired boy had been promising. Angelina did one for demonstration, and he was able to deflect it away. Alicia pulled off a rather good fake and managed to get one in the right hoop. Most of the others didn't even manage to get near the rings.

The blonde was the last to go. She gave him a long hard stare as he tried to read her body language, then WHUMP! Her throw connected with the center of Oliver's chest and pushed him back at least half a meter in the air!

He looked back at her, enraged. She simply smiled and replied with feigned indifference "You looked bored."

Oliver was silently impressed with the precision with which she hit him, a person on a moving broomstick and the force with which he was hit; the perfect combination of athleticism and talent in one single act of retribution. If he could squash out some of that sass, he'd have a good third chaser. This line of thought manifested itself as monosyllabic bursts of irritation.

He rubbed what was surely to be a bruise and tossed her back the quaffle. "Go do the flying wolf passing drill with Angelina and Alicia" Oliver managed to grind out. He overheard "nice one Katie" from Angelina as the three rose into the air and began to drill, too smoothly for it to be the first time. Oliver realized he'd been set up. He would be indignant about it later; he had his third chaser.