Chapter 8 : The Lions and The Cup II
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When he awoke it was still dark, he sat up looking out the window. The game was in less than five hours outside the weather was still as rainy as yesterday with no guarantee of it clearing up anytime soon. He squinted his eyes barely making out as pair of hooded figures out on the grounds.
Oliver immediately looked away, the dementors who could forget about them. After his near encounter on the train he never wanted to come in contact with them again.
He covered his ears hoping that soon it would all be over. Once again his parents were screaming, most were things he still couldn’t comprehend.
Oliver bit down on his lip, maybe if he wished it hard enough they’d stop. He tried but he could still hear their yelling this time it was louder. His mother’s sobs, and his father’s angry words.
A loud snore snapped him out of his thoughts, he turned. Oliver could tell it was Elliot who was snoring so loudly yet there was someone else awake in that room and that person had just snorted.
“Would you turn that off?!” snapped Percy annoyed as he accommodated his glasses onto his long thin nose. Oliver frowned putting his wand away.
“Why are you up?” he asked as Percy walked towards the window taking a seat next to Oliver.
“Can’t sleep” answered Percy pointing towards Elliot “and I don’t know how anyone can.”
Oliver shrugged “guess they’re used to it.”
Percy gave Oliver a curt nod as he cleaned his glasses “are you nervous about the game?” Oliver turned back towards the window. Why on earth would Percy ask him about Quidditch? “You know you are a good Captain” said Percy. Oliver pulled his pyjamas sleeves as Percy went on “I mean it, you’re dedicated to your team.”
“Thank you Perce.”
He expected Percy to stand up and with that be off to bed instead strangely enough the boy stayed up with his classmate and although everytime he spoke it bored Oliver to death yet he couldn’t help but feel grateful for Percy’s company.
At the breakfast table Oliver had no breakfast but always urged his team to eat. All except Fred and George who seemed confident that Gryffindor was going to win the match. He admired their confidence and wished he had some of his own.
The match was as Oliver predicated, out in the pouring rain with thunder over their heads. He flew taking his place at the goalpost, Oliver squinted his eyes.
He couldn’t see a thing, the boy clenched his jaw. He held on tight to his broom hoping he could at least hear Madam Hooch’s whistle. At a distance he could make out a whistle beneath the thunder, now Oliver had to wait.
Something came towards him Oliver positioned himself at the center ring as the canary robed chaser pulled his arm back. Oliver frowned as he noticed the second chaser behind him.
“A reverse pass” thought Oliver as the chaser feigned throwing the Quaffle at him, Oliver didn’t move instead he watched the second chaser throw the Quaffle. Oliver quickly moved to the left catching the Quaffle. A flash of scarlet flew towards him. Oliver threw the Quaffle into play hoping one of his chasers would catch it.
“C’mon girls you can do it!” he thought straining his eyes to try and hear the commentary but all he could hear was thunder and rain. Oliver became frustrated, how many points were they up by, where was the snitch, were they losing?
The minutes dragged on, Oliver would catch the Quaffle and throw back into play. So far he had only missed twice, if only these goggles offer some sort of visibility! He clenched his jaw something was coming towards him and fast. He squinted trying to make out the shape.
Oliver pulled his right hand off the broom, to others it would look like he had slipped but he knew better. The thing that was coming towards him had been a bludger and lucky Oliver had avoided it. He pulled himself up, he couldn’t keep this up.
Oliver lifted his hands forming an X with them, hopefully Madam Hooch would catch the signal. In seconds he heard the whistle. He landed his broom onto the soft mud-like sand, an umbrella floated towards him. Relieved he pulled off his goggles wiping the remaining water out of his face.
His team landed one by one, they around him in a circle. Their time-out was brief thanks to one of Harry’s friends they had the solution to give this game the quick ending it needed. Of course he hadn’t thought of a charm, maybe that bushy haired girl should be part of the team?
They flew back up into the air, now there was no doubt in Oliver’s mind that Gryffindor would win The Cup this year!
He heard someone scream, Oliver looked around unable to believe what his eyes were seeing. Large cloaked figures now surrounded the stadium the players flew around confused as what it was they were supposed to do. Oliver headed towards the middle of the pitch from there he hoped to get a better view of his team, past him flew a couple of Hufflepuffs who seemed to be doing the same.
He saw them pointing up towards the sky, Oliver looked up as Harry fell towards the earth. His heart sank in the distance he could hear his parents arguing. Above Harry he saw the Cedric Diggory he held the snitch but quickly released at the sight the unconscious Gryffindor seeker.
No one had seen Professor Dumbledore so furious as he sent away the dementors, the silent stadium could only watch in horror as they magicked Harry away. Cedric Diggory had caught up to Oliver “Wood!” He called as The Gryffindor team followed Harry except for Oliver who simply stared into the distance, they had lost, lost to Hufflepuff of all houses.
“What is it Diggory?” he mumbled, Cedric Diggory looked up at Oliver his grey eyes seemed sad .
“I’m sorry about this, what happened if the dementors hadn’t been on the field, your team would’ve won…”
“Yeah, well you caught the snitch fair and square” said Oliver heading towards the Gryffindor showers, but the pesky fifth year followed.
“Wood how about a re-match, I’ll talk to Madam Hooch!” said Diggory desperately, Oliver shook his head before entering the locker room he spoke.
“No, you won, congratulations.” With that Oliver walked into the locker room heading straight for the shower without bothering to undress.
The week after the match Oliver had been the subject to ridicule from Marcus Flint. Often he was pulled away by Elliot who reminded Oliver that he needed to ignore them. That week though Marcus Flint was the last thing in his mind, instead he began to formulate how could Gryffindor despite this loss win the Cup.
It was still possible…right?
A/N: Hello readers this story is now officially back I shall try and produce the next chapter soon, if not for NaNoWrimo I shall be a rebel and instead finish this lovely tale. To those who have stuck by thank you, to the new readers hello! Remember to leave your opinion in the tiny grey box below, thanks you :)
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