In All His Quidditch Glory

In All His Quidditch Glory

Chapter: 4

Rice

Oliver groaned from under his pillow as a loud rapping on the door brought him out of a fairly... interesting dream. He dragged himself out of the bed, scarlet sheets falling off his body. He pulled on a robe and opened the door to meet a house elf.

Oliver looked at her curiously. "Don't you just appear in rooms?"

"We do, yes sir. But master was having a dream. Mica didn't want to disturb you. Master was muttering and moaning something about Quaffles and broomsticks-" The house elf started to prattle on.

Oliver cut her off, clearing his throat, "Uh, right, thanks. What did you want?"

"A visitor is to see you, Master Wood. Master Dumbledore asks for you to present yourself in his office in half an hour, sir," said Mica, waiting for her leave.

Oliver frowned. Half an hour? Quidditch practice started in three hours and he still had to set up the gear, work out some finalities on his training strategies and test out the equipment, amongst other things.

"Do you know who it is?" he asked Mica.

"No sir, he does not tell me. Only to tell you to be presentable. It is an important visitor. May Mica go now?" He nodded as the house elf Disapparated.

* * *

Walking the halls of Hogwarts, Oliver was surprised at how well he remembered everything. He made his way down to Dumbledore's office with no trouble at all. Getting to the large statue of the gargoyle, he tried hard to remember the password.

"Cherry pops," he muttered hopefully and the statue began to move.

As he walked into Dumbledore's office, he saw him standing with another man who had his back to the door. He was wearing a long, tailor-made black robe and had shoulder length blond hair.

"Ah, right on time, Mister Wood," Dumbledore said, looking over at him.

Oliver smiled in response and the mystery man turned to look at him. He recognised him from the newspapers and a few chance meetings: Lucius Malfoy. Oliver tried to cover up his initial shock at this.

"Hello, Mister Wood. It's a pleasure to see you again. I believe we met once, at a charity ball," Malfoy drawled, smiling smugly, Merlin knows why. He just always smiled like he knew something you didn't. Perhaps he did.

Oliver stiffened slightly. "Yes, I think we did. It's nice to meet you again also."

He felt very out of place. Not having any idea what was going on was not something he was used to.

"Would you two like to take a seat?" Dumbledore said, moving over to sit behind his desk.

"No," Malfoy said, almost kindly, "this won't take very long."

He turned to Wood. "How is the new team going?"

"We haven't had a practice yet; the first was scheduled for this morning, after this meeting," said Oliver.

"I see that you've made my son Chaser. That was very... interesting news to me," Malfoy continued.

Ah, that must be it, thought Oliver. He said, however, "Yes, I did. He's a fine player and is excellent for that position."

"Hmm, yes, well, we'll get to that," Malfoy paused for a moment. He seemed to have a liking for drawing things out as long as he possibly could. Oliver felt himself wanting to get out of the room.

Malfoy turned again to Dumbledore. "Perhaps I will have a seat."

Oliver followed and sat down also.

"Would either of you care for a toffee?" Dumbledore asked them both, holding out a small decorated tin.

Malfoy curled his lip and turned his attention back to Oliver who was shaking his head politely at Dumbledore's offer.

"How do you like the uniforms, Mister Wood?" said Lucius, that smug smirk on his face again.

"Uh, the uniforms are... unique, to say the least. Not what I expected, but suitable," he said unsurely and looked at Dumbledore for any kind of explanation.

"And the brooms?" Malfoy continued.

Oliver tilted his head slightly. "The brooms are, in fact, excellent. Top of the range. The team hasn't tested them out yet, but I'm sure they'll be perfect." Oliver cleared his throat.

"Yes, yes, they are quite sophisticated," he smiled again when he noticed the look of clear confusion that Oliver now allowed on his face. He turned to Dumbledore. "Don't tell me you haven't told the boy?"

"Sorry?" Oliver asked, shifting in his chair.

Dumbledore pursed his lips a little but turned it into a smile as he looked at Oliver. "I'm sure you've noticed the standard of the equipment and the quality of the uniforms, Mr. Wood. I'm also sure you've considered the costs of undertaking such an enterprise for a school."

Oliver nodded.

"As you know, Hogwarts conducts many different activities around the school. Something of this magnitude requires... outside backing," Dumbledore paused and raised his eyebrows at Oliver, whose mind was quickly catching on. "Mr. Malfoy has been kind enough to provide the financial support that we need. In fact, he also had much to do with the planning and organisation of the future event."

Oliver finally understood. He knew such an enterprise was a little too much to ask from schools alone. He just hadn't realised where exactly this money would be coming from. Well, that at least explains the uniforms, he thought resignedly. Financial backers always tend to step in on artistic choices as well. However, this wasn't the best time for these thoughts.

"Now you understand my questioning, Mr. Wood?" Malfoy said. "I have a personal interest in this project."

Oliver smiled slightly, for the first time in the conversation he felt like he understood the playing field. He knew his ground.

Malfoy continued, "I was hoping to attend one of your training sessions. You said you had one today."

Oliver shifted in his seat again. "Well, yes, we do have one today. But it is our first. I was hoping to get better acquainted with the team before I allowed outside visitors."

"I assure you, Mr. Wood, I am no outside visitor. I will be continually attending both training sessions and games. You will get used to it," Lucius said, looking very annoyed by Oliver's comment. It seemed he didn't ask to attend, he stated that he would.

Dumbledore broke the silence that followed, "Well, Oliver, you'll probably be wanting to go set up the gear before the new team arrives. Perhaps you and I should speak a while, Mr. Malfoy, before you head out as well."

"How is my son at playing his new position?" Lucius said to Oliver, ignoring Dumbledore.

"As I said before, Draco's very talented at Quidditch. He's catching on quick," Oliver said tersely.

"I was surprised, to say the least, that he didn't put up much of an argument when you made this decision. Is he being difficult?"

"He didn't really have much choice in the matter of being Seeker. I think it was a wise choice that he made."

"You didn't answer my question, Mr. Wood."

"No, Draco isn't being difficult at all. In fact he's been very keen on playing as a Chaser." Oliver was beginning to get sick of this. Malfoy had a knack for asking questions without revealing, at all, his intentions.

All he wanted to do was go out there and coach the team. He knew these matters would come up at some point, he just didn't realise how early on and with whom.

Malfoy smiled and stood up. "My apologies for keeping you so long, Mr. Wood."

Oliver gave Dumbledore one last look and stood up as well. Just as he was leaving the room he heard Malfoy say one last remark.

"Make sure you have a little re-think about Draco's position on the team. I wouldn't want to have to re-think my position on this entire matter. I doubt you would too, Mr. Wood. It would be a tragedy if the team was unable to continue in the event."

Oliver didn't turn around but Malfoy noticed Oliver's back straighten a little more as he opened the door and left.

* * *

Oliver cursed his way down to the Quidditch field. The nerve of that man. They had him named as a Death Eater just two years before, for Merlin's sake! How all that got overturned Oliver didn't begin to try and understand. His career with Puddlemere was all that had really mattered. He wished now that he had paid more attention, but the effect that the outside world had on everyone else never seemed to matter when he was up in the sky. General newspapers weren't delivered to his home. This was something he'd have to discuss with Harry.

Reaching the field, he saw the team waiting for him, already having brought out the equipment. They were all dressed in their black uniforms. Black--Oliver now understood why.

"Lost some of that punctuality you held so dear, Wood?" Draco laughed a little and turned to Karé Benscik, the other Slytherin and Beater. She didn't look entirely impressed but managed a wry smile.

"Shut up, Malfoy," Oliver said, taking Draco aback. He turned to the rest of the team. "Okay, we've got a heavy schedule ahead of us. Eight weeks until Christmas break and then another four weeks until our first match held against Beauxbatons."

"You realise that's plenty of time?" Karé began. Harry cringed; he knew what happened when you questioned Oliver's time management.

"Plenty of time? If you don't want to take this seriously then I suggest you leave. Beauxbatons has very impressive students. I've seen them play. There's never enough time for Quidditch if you want things to be flawless," these comments were directed at Karé but now he looked at everyone, "and we want this to be flawless."

Oliver turned to pick up his broom that one of them had brought out. He looked at its sleek black handle in disdain. "Right, so let's get into the air and see how you all work together."

The training session lasted until the afternoon. Lucius had not turned up to watch in the end--well, at least not anywhere visible by Oliver, but he was still unusually hard on the team, especially for the first training session. He was still annoyed by his conversation earlier in the morning. He was, more specifically, snappish at Draco. At one point he snapped when Draco missed the Quaffle. It was clearly another player's fault, Ackerly to be exact, but Oliver didn't contain his annoyance. Draco was certainly not a happy player after that incident.

When they had finished, the team headed off to the change rooms. Draco stayed behind.

"I take it my father came to speak with you this morning?" Draco asked Oliver who was packing things up and trying to ignore Draco's loitering.

He did, however, look up when he heard Draco's question. "Yes, he did." He raised an eyebrow. "Did you already know?"

Draco shook his head. "Well, I knew about his being in control. I hadn't known about the meeting. I just knew it was bound to happen and you look like someone who has encountered him recently."

"Wait, his being in control? What do you mean by that? Just because your father is the money for this doesn't mean he's in control," Oliver said harshly.

"Watch what you say, Wood." Draco had wanted to smooth things over, but it clearly wasn't working out that way.

Oliver scoffed at this. "I don't think I need you to tell me what to say and not, Malfoy."

"So now it's Malfoy is it? You have one disagreeable conversation with my father and you decide to behave like this?" Draco's sneer appeared again.

"I don't need to answer to you, Draco. You know your place. I make the decisions for the team. I'm the one in control of what goes on here."

"Right, whatever you want to believe, Wood. You make as many decisions as you like, we'll see what happens." Draco's sneer increased and he gave Oliver one last look over before turning around and leaving.

Oliver grabbed the Quidditch gear and head off to the Quidditch shed. Lugging these back calmed him down a bit and he began to regret his comments to Draco. It's not his fault after all, he thought to himself. He also realised how difficult he had now made things for his control over the team. Draco would certainly not be impressed with his attitude and the rest of the team would probably avoid him in the halls.

He sighed and put away the gear on the right shelves. That's just the way the life of a coach is, he figured. Not to mention he had pushed Draco away from any sort of trust that they may have been developing in each other. It wasn't until now that he really felt like he only had the vestiges left of what could have been a decent friendship, to say the least.