The week had finally come to an end and the match against Slytherin was now only moments away. Wood and the rest of the Gryffindor team were currently stood inside the wooden cove that led to the packed and screaming stadium.

Oliver couldn't've been happier with the progress made by his team over the course of their training. At last practise, his chasers Angelina, Alicia and Katie had managed to not only simply score, but also put the fear of God into him during one such time by flying at him full speed in a 'Hawkhead Formation' and - using his split second of fright - put the Quaffle right past him before he'd realised what they'd done.

Harry had also impressed him immensely by not only catching the Golden Snitch faster than usual, but in ten seconds after it'd been released! He would've gone over and hugged him if he hadn't schooled himself at the last minute, plus Fred and George had already beaten him to the punch, quite literally by punching him out of the way to get to the young man.

Ah yes, Fred and George. Suffice to say, the twins had improved astronomically since they'd started napping during practise, he couldn't believe how such a simple thing could give such a positive effect. They'd not only accomplished 'The Bludger Backbeat' now but mastered it, even going as far as to practise doing it as a pair more often than not, making it twice as deadly. He'd always said to himself that this move was going to be important somehow, he didn't really know why he was so adamant for them to learn it, he'd just had the slightest feeling that they'd need it; he felt it in his gut.

"Gooood afternoon Hogwarts and welcome to the final match of the annual interhouse championship: Slytherin Vs. Gryffindor!" came the booming voice of Lee over the roar of the students. "We have less than five minutes 'til the game so don't you dare go anywhere! (COUGH) Unless-you're-a-Slytherin-then-feel-free-to-get-lost-"

"JORDAN!" scolded McGonagall.

They still had a few minutes left until they would face the music and Oliver took the opportunity to reminisce a while longer. He almost chuckled as he remembered the day the twins had thrown that almighty fit. It hadn't lasted long he recalled, the second Mrs Weasley came into play they had leapt into the conjured sleeping bags in the blink of an eye and had slept like babies, even batting him away when he'd tried to wake them up later. They'd indeed kept their promise and took their nap every day from then on as well, the constant looming threat of a howler from their mother having a lot to do with it Wood assumed, which had improved their moods dramatically at long last.

"Well, good luck everyone," came the apprehensive voice of Harry, "I hope we did enough."

"Worry not dear Harold," said Fred.

"We're on a roll! Nothing's gona stop us now," continued George.

"We have the best team talent can produce-"

"-a stadium full of fans screaming our names-"

"-and a Captain who doesn't know how to fail."

"We've got this one," they finished in unison with a wink at Wood.

"Damn right we do," came the Keeper's confident reply.

The thunderous roar from the pitch was almost deafening now, meaning a number of scenarios easily could've occurred. Either: It had finished filling up with eager students who were now cheering their favoured team's name, Hagrid had released a flock of Blast-ended Screwts upon the spectators, or You-know-who himself had turned up and was now violently massacring the crowd, it was hard to tell when you had no visual aid.

"They're right Harry," said Angelina, "not only for obvious reasons but I think Flint's nervous. I saw him looking at the scores earlier today and he seemed pretty edgy. He knows we have a shot."

"Flint can formulate an emotion OTHER than mad?" said an alarmed George.

"Flint can READ?" mirrored Fred.

CRASH! The wooden hatch opened with a clatter signalling for the players to fly onto the pitch. The team just managed to mount their brooms and fly out into the blaze of sound and light as Lee introduced the rivals who'd flew in from the other side of the pitch.

"Aaaand here come the teams! In green we have the Slytherins; play as dirty as they look-"

"JORDAN I'm warning you!"

"-Sorry Professor, with their Captain Marcus Flint!" resounded Lee.

There was a chorus of boos that effectively drowned out any cheers made by the Slytherin house; the serpents scowled.

"Aaaand in red we have the powerhouse of GRYFFINDOR! Led by their, very handsome if I do say so, Captain Oliver Wood! And do I have some juicy secrets about him, one involving a broom servicing kit, a bottle of Firewhiskey, and Charlie Weasley! Err, unfortunately I'm unable at the present time to divulge such mysteries, personally see me after for detail-OOMPH."

"You know, I've been planning on what my first move was gonna be if we won the Quidditch Cup, and I think I've changed my mind now," Oliver said monotonously over the distinct sound of rustling and buzzing of feedback as McGonagall and Lee fought over the microphone.

"Yeah?" said the twins and Harry shakily, as they floated across from the sneering faces of the Slytherin team, who were eyeing Oliver with a new found look of awed astonishment.

"Well my first instinct was to shove it in Flint's face…"

There was bumping and scraping now as the mic was being dragged back and forth between the two, slowly eroding the commentator box.

"…then I changed my mind and wanted to fly around the stadium holding it above my head…"

A small friction fire had now broken out and Dumbledore's beard had been set alight.

"But now?" asked the team wearily.

"Now I think there's only one course of action..."

So many Aguamenti charms had been fired at once that Professor Flitwick was forced to tread water, and a few unused 'Dr Filibuster's Fabulous Wet-start, No-heat' Fireworks exploded out of Lee's pocket with startling ferocity.

"I KNEW HE HAD SOME LEFT!" yelled George in outrage as rockets flew all over the place, one re-igniting the fire in Dumbledore's beard and one colliding directly with Oliver's left eye. Nevertheless the keeper spoke on without pause, a bruise forming.

"…I now want to make it the final resting place of Lee Jordan," he said, as Madame Hooch blew her whistle and the game was put on hold.

That night it was quiet and calm, morose even, in some areas of the castle i.e. the Dungeons. The corridors were empty, the Great Hall was deserted, and the Slytherin common room radiated hatred for about a 30 foot radius. Gryffindor tower on the other hand positively quivered with all the music, celebrations and, to everyone's initial amazement, dancing portraits. They had done it, Gryffindor had won the Quidditch Cup and a party was now being thrown; the team could barely contain themselves.

The twins had took it upon themselves to smuggle into the common room as much food, drink and students as they possibly could; it was getting to the point where one could barely move around without being stepped on or bashed into. Once the area had been filled to the rafters, they'd gone off to play a game of Butterbeer-Pong with Harry and Lee - who was now sporting several bruises and scratches - using one of the portraits hanging outside the common room door as a table and the Golden Snitch as the ball.

The three Chasers, who were also in high spirits, were having a chug-off at the opposite end of the room with Butterbeer also, much to the delight of the surrounding crowd who began chanting and pumping their fists whilst they shouted the name of the girl they were backing.

Oliver however was not taking part in the festivities but rather standing in the middle of the room, still staring fixated at the golden cup clutched in his hands. This moment had been his dream ever since he'd become Captain, and today it'd come true. After all these years, he'd finally won the Cup…No, they'd finally won the Cup and Oliver couldn't've been more proud of them.

He'd also been scarily right about 'The Bludger Backbeat', about three quarters of the way through the game after all the drama of the multiple fouls and penalties, Angelina had just scored to make the game 80-20 to Gryffindor and Malfoy and Harry were going after the Snitch. Flint was a short distance behind the twins in possession of the Quaffle and about to try for another score, when Fred and George had noticed this, performed a Double Bludger Backbeat and caught him square in the chest, winding him very nicely and making him drop the Quaffle; allowing Harry the sixty point lead he needed to catch the Snitch, which he had.

The team eventually reunited towards the end of the party, moving over to the Cup by stepping over inebriated students and ducking under party streamers which criss-crossed the room like a Cat's Cradle.

"It's certainly a beaut, Wood. I hope we never have to give it back now that it's ours," remarked Katie Bell.

"Don't be daft, Kate," retorted George, who with Fred and Harry now came over to huddle around the trophy like the others.

Their game of Butterbeer-Pong had unfortunately been cut short due to the 'ball' sprouting its wings and deciding it wanted to whizz around the ceiling instead of partake.

"Ollie's been battling for this Cup for five years."

"We've got a pretty good feeling that the new Captain-"

"-whoever he or she will be-"

"-will do everything in their power to keep it here as-"

"-should they lose the cup-"

"-not only are they subject to the anger of the team-"

"-but they're also incurring the wrath of HIM," they pointed at Wood. "That's incentive enough."

The girls had to agree.

Oliver chuckled, in all the pandemonium he'd forgotten to announce who it would be that'd be succeeding him as Captain. He'd planned to do it after the match, but it seemed to've taken a backseat in the chaos of Gryffindor winning the championship. The decision hadn't been a difficult one at all.

"I completely forgot guys, I was meant to announce the new Captain after the game but now seems as good as any moment…" Oliver said.

The team held their breaths. The Snitch's fluttering wings, tipsy chatter and party music were the only things now breaking the silence; Fred and George were turning blue with lack of oxygen and gestured to him to hurry up before they passed out.

"Angelina," he announced with a smile. The team applauded the girl at once as she went over and gave him a hug; the twins let out tumultuous breaths in the background.

"Any particular reason?" she asked him.

"It was a no brainer really. You're passionate and hardworking, you never whinged or complained once at the mention of practise in bad conditions, and even when your heart wasn't in the game you still gave it 110%."

"Thank you Oliver," she beamed, blushing slightly.

"Plus I need someone in charge who can control the terrible twosome-"

"HEY! We take offense to that!"

"-and you fit the bill," he concluded.

"I think a toast is in order," piped up Harry, going over to one of the tables to try and find a suitable beverage for them.

"Hold your horses there Potter-" shot Fred.

"-we have something far better than Butterbeer," said George coyly.

The group observed as the twins ran upstairs, shuffled about for a few minutes and came back down grasping an unopened bottle of 'Ogden's Old Firewhisky'.

"Where on Earth did you get-"

"Tis a frivolous tale so unimportant and trifling-" began Fred, cutting off Angelina.

"-that we'd bore you to slumber after three sentences," finalised George.

"In other words you don't want us knowing as we might blag to the person it really belongs to," she said.

"Pretty much," they spoke as one, pouring the amber liquid into seven cups.

The group sighed yet accepted the drinks anyway, they had a mutual feeling that Mr Weasley was going to look in his drink's cupboard one day and notice a space that shouldn't've been there. They all raised their drinks and made a toast to the new Captain, as well as the old one, and claimed the seats in front of the still crackling fire to sip at the fiery liquor.

"I'm going to miss this place so much," Oliver mused aloud swilling his drink, "especially you lot, and the pitch, and Lee's excellent commentating…" He paused looking around slightly. "Where is Lee anyway?"

"Oh, he buggered off somewhere when the Snitch took flight and he saw us going over to you," said Fred.

"Probably scared you were gona go berserk again after his little slip-up on the mic," George smiled.

"It wasn't a slip-up he said it deliberately…and I didn't go berserk," stressed Wood.

"You tried to strangle him with his own dreadlocks," reasoned Harry, "you did go slightly mental."

Wood muttered into his cup and took another mouthful.

"…So as we're all pleasantly comfortable now and the violence of the day has hopefully passed-" began Fred.

"-perhaps Captain you can explain to us the infamous story of the beverage you're currently drinking-" George went on.

"-and how our elder brother comes into it," they said in unison, grinning like hyenas. "He mustn't've kept his broomstick in good condition if you had to service it for hi-"

BANG!

The last thing that went through the twin's minds before the armchairs in which they were sitting suddenly exploded without warning, is how many times they had roused such a murderous expression from the Keeper's face, how proud they felt that it was an expression reserved just for them, and how much they realised they would miss it once he was gone.

fin

Try to find it in your heart not to 'Hit and run', please write a review and let me know what you thought.

A/N: 'The Dopplebeater Defence', 'The Bludger Backbeat', the 'Hawkhead formation' and 'The Sloth Grip Roll' are all canon Quidditch strategies from 'Quidditch Through the Ages'. The story about Oliver, Lee is referring to is my homage to the general tomfoolery and chaos that the blokes from sport's teams get up to when on nights out; no slash implied just drunken dares etc.

*Butterbeer-Pong: wizarding version of the drinking game Beer-Pong

*A Cat's Cradle is a children's game in which two players alternately stretch a looped string over their fingers in such a way as to produce different designs.