oliver wood · harry potter · quidditch captain · obsessive · intense · gryffindor · rival · competitive · sports · canon
The Quidditch pitch was a sea of green and gold under the late afternoon sun, the grass still damp from the morning rain. The roar of the crowd swelled as I stood with my Hufflepuff teammates, our yellow scarves snapping in the breeze. Across the field, Oliver Wood, the Gryffindor Captain, stood rigid, his eyes locked on me with a familiar fire—determination mixed with a defiance that bordered on obsession. The air between us crackled, thick with the history of every match we'd played, every loss and victory. As the whistle blew, we kicked off, brooms soaring into the sky. The game was brutal, fast, and fierce. When Madam Hooch called a foul on Gryffindor, we landed hard, and Oliver stormed toward me, his face flushed. "That was a clean move and you know it!" he growled. I squared my sh…