The Quidditch pitch roared with flames, and the stands came crashing down. Oliver Wood looked in utter horror at the devastation before his eyes. His heart dropped down to his stomach. He had specifically booked the pitch for the Gryffindors to train. This would not do.
Wood strode across the Hogwarts grounds and made his way to Professor McGonagall.
"Professor, I booked the pitch for today!" he explained heatedly. "This is my - our - last chance!"
McGonagall looked at him incredulously. "You-Know-Who has just attacked! Do you think I give a flying Quaffle about who wins the Quidditch Cup this year?! I suppose you're going to take it up with You-Know-Who himself, as it's his lot who've destroyed your precious Quidditch pitch!" she shouted. "Now, if you've quite finished, we have more pressing things to attend to!"
Giving him a look of deep disgust, she hurried back into the castle, helping the other teachers with the protective enchantments.
Wood felt thoroughly indignant. If McGonagall, head of Gryffindor house, wasn't going to fight for the Cup, then it was down to Wood to make Gryffindor proud. He knew at once what he must do.
Striding towards the Forbidden Forest, Wood was boiling with anger. How dare they destroy Hogwarts Quidditch pitch! He finally came across a clump of robed figures who surrounded a single wizard. He turned around, and Wood saw his noseless face for the first time. Swallowing his revulsion, he fought to keep eye contact with Voldemort. The Death Eaters jeered and mocked Wood, laughing themselves stupid.
"Bring my Quidditch pitch back! I demand you to restore the Quidditch pitch to its former glory! Now! My team has one last chance to win the Cup this year, and nothing will get in the way of that!"
"You demand?" replied Voldemort in a cold, high voice. But that did not deter Wood.
"Poor little baby is going to demand the Dark Lord? Ohhhhh, is the little baby going to duel, too?" mocked Bellatrix, her hand gripping her wand, itching to use an Unforgivable Curse.
This seemed quite logical to Wood. They duel, and whoever wins does what they want with the pitch. "Go on then. It's a deal. You win and you get the pitch, but if I win, you restore the pitch."
At this point Bellatrix was shrieking with mirth, whilst even Voldemort was hiding a barely concealed smile.
"Then we must bow," said Voldemort. Oliver bent his head, and they began to duel.
"Crucio!"
"Protego!"
There was a flash of light and Voldemort was screaming, a horrible, ear mangling screech, like a banshee being tortured. Suddenly it was over, and Voldemort looked at Wood, his snake-like nostrils flared.
At exactly the same time, they both raised their wands and cried, "AVADA KEDAVRA!"
A bolt of acid green light shot from the ends of both their wands, met in the middle, and began to run down to each of their wands, splitting them apart.
Wood broke the connection, and ran towards Voldemort, ready to use Muggle tactics. He'd read about them in Muggle Studies, and if all else failed, he wasn't going down without a fight.
The look on Voldemort's face was uncomprehending, and utterly perplexed, until he started laughing, a high maniacal laughter, as if he'd finally broken free from a mental asylum.
Wood's fist collided with Voldemort's temple, and he went down like a log.
The jeering from the Death Eaters and the maniacal laughter was stopped abruptly, as if someone had pulled a plug. There was a deafening silence.
With a sickening crunch, Wood stamped on Voldemort's neck, and stepped aside, dusting off his hands. "Seems being 'immortal' doesn't make much difference when it comes to Muggle fighting. Now - who's going to restore my Quidditch Pitch?"
Bellatrix looked as if someone had stamped on her neck too - she seemed unable to string together a comprehensible sentence and she was emitting an odd mixture of gibberish and a strange spluttering sound. All the Death Eaters looked white-faced at Wood.
"Well come on then! I have Quidditch Practice! Chop chop!" snapped Wood impatiently. A Death Eater came forward and ran to keep up with Wood as he marched towards the Quidditch Pitch. The rest of the Death Eaters seemed as if there was some Devil's Snare rooting them to the spot.
"Did you ever play?" asked Wood conversationally, as they made their way across the grounds.
"I was never much good on a broom, actually," replied the Death Eater, somewhat embarrassed.
"Ah, everyone has their weak spots. Well, here we are then," said Wood, as they arrived. "I'm not too advanced, but I can do a basic Aguamenti Charm."
And together, they restored the Quidditch Pitch to its former glory. Oh, and Wood won the Quidditch Cup.
The End.
A/N
Thanks for reading, please leave a review if you liked, or even if you hated it,
I'd love to know. Anyway, this is supposed to be a parody, I realise this would
never actually happen in the books. Not to mention, nobody sue me for using J.K
Rowling's characters; I'm not delusional, of course I didn't write Harry Potter.
Anyway, hoped you enjoyed.