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Oliver Wood was doing his best to keep his team lively.
They all seemed more than a little on edge thanks to the dementors that constantly lurked around at the edge of the field. After Harry Potter ended up falling off his broom thanks to their intrusion, the team had really been dreading the matches. Of course, Slytherin was due to play them for the Quidditch House Cup, so that added to their woes.
Oliver ran through strategy after strategy with his team, drilling the moves into their very beings. He didn't take it easy either, and the day of the match arrived without fail.
The game was going surprisingly well until four dementors approached.
Harry, to the surprise of everyone, whipped out his wand and cast a powerful Patronum Charm.
The four dementors basically fell from the sky, revealing that they were students in disguise.
Harry caught the snitch, and the game was over.
Oliver rushed over toward Harry in pure glee at having won the Quidditch House Cup. His happiness lasted three seconds before his shoulder was roughly slammed into by a bludger. The young man screamed as his shoulder made a loud popping noise and his arm dangled uselessly. He quickly landed his broom, not wanting to fall and make his injury worse.
“Marcus Flint!” Madam Hooch screamed as she rapidly approached the Slytherin Quidditch Captain.
Oliver turned his head to glare over his shoulder.
Flint, of course, was glaring right back.
The two had had a rival going back since their second years.
Oliver continued to make eye contact as he accepted the Quidditch House Cup with his working hand. Then, as Flint began to turn red in the face, Oliver turned toward his team’s seeker.
Harry was staring back with concern. “Are you alright?”
Oliver would have waved it off, but his good hand was holding the cup. Instead, he gave a grin and said, “‘Course I'm alright. Our team won, didn't it?”
“Oliver, you should be going to the hospital wing!” Katie Bell exclaimed as she and the rest of the team joined around Oliver.
Oliver, of course, tutted at the idea. “We still need to go over routines for next year quickly before—”
“I can walk the team through the boards you've drawn,” Alicia Spinnet suggested.
Angelina Johnson quickly nodded. “Yeah, so you should really get your shoulder checked out.”
Oliver debated it for a moment before sighing. “Very well.”
“Do you want to keep the Quidditch House Cup when you go to the matron?” Fred asked teasingly.
“Or do you want it safe in the common room?” George continued with the same tone as his brother.
“Of course I want it safe,” Oliver said with an amused roll of his eyes. “I'll be back quickly to celebrate.” He handed the cup over to Harry, patted the boy's shoulder, and then headed off to the hospital wing. As he was doing so, he grinned to himself at how Slytherin’s team was being chewed up and spat out by Professor McGonagall and Madam Hooch alike. He casually meandered his way up to the castle and to the workspace of the matron of Hogwarts.
Halfway there, Cassius Warrington, Flint’s right-hand man, stepped out into his path, looking downright furious. “Your damn seeker could have killed those four—”
“If those four weren't on the pitch trying to ruin the game for Gryffindor, I might be a tiny bit sympathetic,” Oliver retorted.
Warrington took one step toward Oliver, and the two squared up.
Warrington, never one for patience, threw a right hook at Oliver's injured shoulder.
Oliver jerked back, but not in time. He gave a sharp cry of pain as his shoulder ached fiercely, followed by him stumbling down the stairs a bit. As Warrington gave a cruel laugh, Oliver suddenly charged up the stairs.
The two collided, and they began to tussle with each other like testosterone-filled young men occasionally do.
It was going in Oliver’s favor until Warrington once again hit his injured shoulder. The Gryffindor cursed and attempted to shove Warrington away, only to not be able to as stars danced across his vision.
“How will you make it in the big leagues if you can't handle some pain?” Warrington mocked viciously.
Oliver gritted his teeth together, focusing his vision the best he could.
The two once again stared, getting ready to go for another round of punching and kicking.
At least, that was until the Head Boy, Percy Weasley, began to ascend the staircase they were on. “Alright, break it up, you two. Warrington, don't make me take away House Points. Oliver, you should get your shoulder checked out.”
“I will in a bit,” Oliver waved off dismissively as he kept his eyes glued to the Slytherin.
Warrington sneered at him in retort, clearly not wanting to turn his back to the enemy, either.
Percy rolled his eyes before saying, “Move along now, or I'll have to get McGonagall.”
With no real choice in the matter, Warrington brushed his way past the two, stomping his way down to the dungeons to brood.
Oliver watched his opponent leave before finally turning his gaze to Percy. “I really could have handled him.”
Percy raised a red eyebrow. “Is that what you call shoving and kicking like a child?”
“Oh, sod off, Percy,” Oliver snapped, “I would’ve beaten him if it wasn't for my shoulder.”
“Which you should really get looked at,” Percy insisted as he took another step up. “It didn't look pretty hanging there.”
Oliver said, “I was on my way to Madam Pomfrey’s when Warrington stepped out.”
“Let's go together then, just in case,” Percy offered.
Oliver raised an eyebrow. “I can go by myself.”
Percy hesitated before nodding once. “Just don't get into any more fights.”
“I won't,” Oliver assured Percy before turning and ascending the staircase once again. As he continued on his way, he couldn't help but think about the worry that Percy had in his eyes. He knew he should have been focusing on his dislocated shoulder, but he just couldn't help but let his mind wander.
If Percy hadn't been so smitten with Penelope Clearwater, Oliver would have definitely made an attempt to date Percy. Alas, the Weasley was a taken and happy man, and Oliver could only barely call himself Percy's friend. The two clashed all the time over their respective schedules (Percy stayed up all night studying while Oliver got up early to work on Quidditch), and their values in life were slightly different because of their goals for their futures.
Oliver sighed heavily as he entered the hospital wing, where Madam Pomfrey began to fret over him right away. He sat through her tutting and the like until he had to get his shoulder popped back into place.
It was just as painful as it was getting popped out of the socket.
Oliver managed to hold in most of the scream, and he was given a beaker of pain potion right afterwards. He eagerly accepted and downed the awful-tasting potion like it was a cold glass of butterbeer on a warm day.
“You'll still be bruised for a few days, so you better behave,” Madam Pomfrey lectured, “No more Quidditch incidents, do you understand?”
“Yes, Madam Pomfrey,” Oliver replied right away.
She nodded in approval before sending him on his way.
Oliver meandered his way up to the Gryffindor tower and found his team was already there celebrating. The young man huffed loudly despite the fact everyone was so happy. “You didn't go over the strategies for next year at all, did you?”
“I didn't take an hour to do so, but I did go over them,” Alicia said with a roll of her eyes. “Now, get in here and celebrate winning the Quidditch game.”
Oliver couldn't really argue with celebrating, especially not when his team had won. Therefore, he decided to shelve his annoyance for the time being and have fun with his Housemates.