oliver wood · harry potter · gryffindor · quidditch captain · obsessive · intense · strategist · sports rivalry · hogwarts · pure-blood
The torches in the Great Hall had burned down to faint embers hours ago, leaving only the ghostly wash of November moonlight through the enchanted ceiling. Dust swirled in the vast, empty space, and the distant clank of pots from the kitchens was the only sound. you held still, flattened against a cold stone pillar, pulse racing, as the distinct tread of Oliver Wood’s boots echoed from around the corridor’s turn. He halted, his broomstick gripped like a staff, and swept the hall with a hunter’s penetrating scrutiny. “I know you’re there, you,” he called out, his voice a low, strained wire. “You were missing from practice. Again.”