In All His Quidditch Glory

In All His Quidditch Glory

Chapter: 2

Rice

Browning autumn leaves swirled around Oliver's feet as he walked along the grounds of Hogwarts. The stone walls gave off an unusual warmth, echoing the voices of the hundreds of students within. He hadn't realised how much he really did miss being at Hogwarts; Quidditch had been so preoccupying he hadn't taken any time to just soak in the comfort and beauty that continually surrounded him. However, he was here for a reason. He had a job to do, something to. . . fill in the time.

Tryouts didn't begin till later on that afternoon, so Oliver decided to get a feel for the field again. He put on the new Quidditch uniform Dumbledore had made for the team. The inside jumpers were black with gold lining, etched with flecks of blue, and the padding was all black with silver stitching. The cloak however, as it was the most examined piece of the uniform, was enchanted so the tinges changed to show the various house colours depending on the angle of the sun. Though to avoid confusion, the cloak was also predominately black if in full sunlight or in darkness and was always remembered so. Oliver picked up the cloak and ran his finger across the outline of the Hogwarts crest. He had never worn a Quidditch uniform combining four different sides to create a unified team. As he put it on, he felt for the first time, not an ex-Gryffindor who attended Hogwarts, but an ex-Hogwarts student who just happened to be placed in Gryffindor.

He walked over to the broomsticks and placed his hand on the one labeled 'COACH.' It was a sleek jet-black colour to match the uniforms. Oliver began to wonder at this choice, as the team would look more like flying phantoms than portraying the image of the true light-hearted nature of the school. Dumbledore could have gone for a Phoenix style instead of this stealthy and dark look for the team. Oliver picked up the broom and was surprised at its lightness--even his international side didn't have such light but obviously strong brooms. The funding for this must be much stronger than he had first thought.

Taking the broom, he headed out onto the field. The empty stadium surrounded his solitary figure rising into the air. He felt a strange rush of nostalgia as he circled the field, not only for his captaining days at school, but for his short lived chance to play internationally. He had never wanted anything else. Joining Puddlemere was the greatest opportunity he had ever been given and now there was no returning. He had an injury beyond repair, and it hurt him to even think about it. Shaking his mind out of the past, he headed towards the familiar hoops at the end of the field. School fields were twenty meters shorter than international fields and the hoops were larger and placed slightly closer together.

He did a few circles of the hoops, swerving sharply as if defending them from unseen threats, though he noticed his movements were not as sharp as they had been, just less than a year ago. He became so enveloped in his simple world of lone flying that he didn't notice he was being watched by another boy on a broom hovering just out of the way. Oliver stopped suddenly as he started to feel the other's presence. He turned to see Draco Malfoy, decked out in his green Slytherin Quidditch robes, just tight enough to show off his well-toned body, an obvious product of hours upon hours of practice in the air.

"You really are an excellent flyer," Draco said with a respectful almost-smile on his face. Oliver was completely taken back by this display of such an open compliment from someone he only had negative memories about, and as a result was instantly wary.

"You're here for the Seeker tryouts I presume?" Oliver said, regaining himself.

"Presumption is such a crude form of judgment, but yes, I am here for Seeker," Draco ended, with his usual malicious smirk on his face. All evidence of his prior compliment was so thoroughly removed that Oliver began to doubt he had said anything at all.

"So where's Harry?" Oliver said, starting to circle back down to get practice gear and wait for Harry and any other students who would want to take their chances against these two.

"Do you think I keep tabs on that waste of space?" Draco sneered, then, as he landed next to Oliver, added, "He has no sense of punctuality."

Oliver gave Draco a quizzical look at this, but at that moment Harry came walking up in his scarlet Quidditch robes and apologised for being late.

Before Draco could make any comment, Oliver cut in, "Is anyone else coming?"

He looked up at the stands and realised half the stadium was filled. Groups of people from every house were in their place, eager to watch Harry and Malfoy battle it out for Seeker. Though almost all knew Harry was by far the most talented for this position than any other in Hogwarts' history, they knew Malfoy and Potter would give them an excellent show. No one else, even the Seekers for the other houses, wanted to try and compete for best against these two.

Oliver went round and brought out the separate training kit. Each piece of equipment, besides the brooms, was enchanted differently for practice than the equipment for the game. There would be no point to watch a Seeker spend hours looking for a Snitch rather than showing their real flying and agility skills over a shorter period of time. He took out the Snitch, glinting gold in the sunlight, its wings fluttering slightly in the palm of his hand.

"Okay, did you want to get a feel for the field first?" Oliver asked, turning around.

Harry nodded and rose into the air, Draco following close behind. They did a quick lap of the field and met in the middle, hovering close to each other. Draco sneered.

"Don't you ever get sick of doing that?" Harry asked, looking genuinely curious. "Does your face hurt at the end of the day?"

"Does that scar still throb when you think about your dead parents?" Draco's sneer seemed to increase.

Harry's eyes narrowed. "You're going to pay for all you've said and done one day, Malfoy. I don't believe for an instant that you've changed," He ended with a sneer of his own.

Draco opened his mouth to answer, but was again cut off by Oliver who flew up next to them. "Ready?"

As Harry and Draco both nodded, Oliver released the Snitch in between them. The small golden ball did a circle around Harry and then his opponent. It was enchanted to come into view at least once every five minutes. This way, quick flying skills and the ability to have an eye for such a small object came to the surface.

The Snitch hovered in between the two before doing a sharp dive. Oliver positioned himself in the referee's area and watched Harry and Draco. Both boys were extremely skilled flyers and their bodies were obviously fit. Harry was slightly smaller than Draco, which gave him the extra advantage when it came to turning, and he was lighter on the broom. The moves the two boys pulled were almost on par with some of Oliver's old professional teammates and it was clear both of them had the potential to continue playing as a career.

Oliver watched them exercise their skill for just under an hour until the final dive for the Snitch. The concentration of both players was immense; beads of sweat rolled down their faces but their pleasure in this display was clearly evident. They were going at such a fast pace their cloaks were rippling out behind them, two streams of green and red occasionally snapping when they touched. Draco gained a slight lead on Harry, for the first time in the session. He extended his hand, aligning his body with his broom. His fingers could almost touch the Snitch until it veered sharply to the left. Harry turned quickly but this sudden movement by him at such high speeds and close proximity caused Draco to momentarily lose his balance as the air shifted around him. Draco pulled up and to his left only to notice the pole of one of the hoops staring him in the face. Oliver started at this sight but Draco's quick reflexes allowed him to dodge the obstruction. He looked for Harry and saw him hovering a few meters away, having caught the Snitch.

They flew back down, meeting Oliver on the ground level.

"You really had the crowd on the edge of their seats," Oliver said, grinning. "That was a great display."

Harry and Draco could only breathe heavily in reply.

Oliver continued, "You're both excellent and extremely talented. I'd love to have you both on the team, but unfortunately, only one of you can be Seeker. Why don't you two get yourselves calmed and refreshed before we discuss anything further and give me a moment to collect my thoughts."

Harry and Draco both trudged off, the latter mentally berating himself for not succeeding. Oliver stood back and watched the two figures head towards the change rooms. He knew what his decision was; it was obvious from the beginning whom the Seeker position was best suited for. He thought, however, of the other's skill--his flying ability would be hard to match. There was something in Malfoy's style that caught his attention. His agile but built frame and his last display of good dodging skills of an object so close gave the impression Malfoy was best suited for perhaps a different position.

The two competitors returned, back in their usual school gear, Ron and Hermione walking up just behind Harry. Oliver swallowed and tried to believe telling people who could and couldn't be on the team was the worst aspect of being a captain or a coach but... he really did enjoy it. However, in this situation, he thought differently.

"Alright, I'm just going to come right out and say it. Harry, you're definitely Seeker. But Malfoy, I'd like to speak to you," Oliver said quickly.

Harry smirked at Draco and turned to look at Ron's beaming face.

"You just got chosen by Wood, Harry. By Wood. He thinks you're good." Again Ron couldn't stop grinning.

"He won't let it go, but at least now he's rhyming," Hermione said, looking pitifully at Ron.

"It's okay Ron; remember Wood used to be our old captain? You've seen him play before," Harry tried calming his friend down.

Draco hadn't turned away from Oliver. "What did you want to tell me?" He said coldly.

"Malfoy, you'd be an asset to the team. It's just unfortunate that you're so hell-bent on being Seeker. I'd be hard pressed to find many other players with your skill and you know it by the look on your face." Oliver paused for a second. "Have you ever thought of being a Chaser?"

Draco furrowed his eyebrows for a second, then quickly regained himself. He had never considered being a different position. Seeker was the most prestigious position and a great opportunity to oppose Harry, but considering these new circumstances and the fact that his father would not be overly pleased that his son had not made the team, Draco took up the idea.

"I'll have to give it some thought," Draco said slowly, while thinking, 'Would it better to be on the team but in a lower position or not be on the team at all?'

"You know, there's nothing that says a Seeker is more important than another player. You can't have a game of Quidditch without each and every one," said Oliver, able to read the look on Draco's face. He was puzzled by Draco's surprise at his perceptive comment.

"Okay, do I have to try out again?" Malfoy said, regaining an air of disdain for his situation.

"No, no. You've proven yourself, Draco. Besides, that just makes my job easier; only two other people to choose to fill the Chaser positions," Oliver smiled. He was determined to play 'happy team,' as it made life so much easier.

"Look, Wood. Don't think you're doing me a favour. This would be entirely my choice," Draco said, emphasising Oliver's last name. He had never understood why a person's name was such a big deal to him; only his mother and father really called him Draco.

"That's fine, Draco, but perhaps you'd like to practice some offensive skills before our first practice session. I could help you, as I'm sure you don't want to make a fool of yourself in front of everyone if you can't play properly with the Quaffle." Oliver still retained that smile, enjoying Draco's look of disgust.

There was something about Oliver however that didn't make Draco feel he was swallowing his pride if he agreed, but rather showing character. He couldn't bring himself to say he might need help but simply nodded.

"I'll see if I can fit some practice with you into my schedule, Wood," Draco ended and he started to walk away.

Oliver stood on the Quidditch field and watched Draco's receding figure. His sleek blonde hair reflected the gold of the setting sky and his body, trained with years of etiquette lessons, moved gracefully away. Oliver almost smacked himself in the head for thinking of Draco so cliché. He smiled however at the thought of private lessons with that gracefully toned body.

Draco, heading towards the main buildings, tried hard to suppress a smile that began to creep up when he thought back on Oliver's praising comments.