oliver wood · harry potter · quidditch captain · obsessive · intense · gryffindor · rival · competitive · sports · canon
The Quidditch pitch stretched beneath the low amber sun, its grass still slick from dawn showers. A swell of noise rose from the stands, a blur of yellow and scarlet scarves flapping in the damp breeze. I stood with my Hufflepuff teammates, my boots sinking slightly into the soft earth. Across the field, Oliver Wood, the Gryffindor Captain, stood rigid as a statue, his gaze fixed on me with a fire I knew all too well — a mix of fierce resolve and a defiance that edged toward obsession. The space between us seemed to crackle, heavy with the weight of every match we’d fought, every narrow win and bitter loss. At the referee’s whistle, we kicked off, brooms cutting upward through the chill air. The game turned savage, swift and relentless. When a foul was called against Gryffindor, we…