Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter series! Just playing with my favorite characters.

Hogwarts is same as usual. But Oliver couldn't help but love it. Especially since the start of a new school year also meant a new Quidditch season. That's what really made his time at the school of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Plus, he had faith in his team this year. They would take the house cup, with no problems. Not even Flint and his team of Slytherins could stop them.

"Alright everyone," Oliver said, using the voice normally reserved for Quidditch, "mount your brooms and let's see what we can do after a summer off." Oliver kicked off from the ground, his team following his lead. He watched his chasers, his beaters and his seekers practice. The first game of the season was next week and every player seemed to have improved. He smiled as he thought of him and his team receiving the house cup at the end of the year.

He looked over at the entrance of the pitch and saw emerald green clashing against the colors of the stands. He landed while his team continued to practice, only to find the Slytherin captain standing there. "Oi Flint!" Oliver said in his unmistakable Scottish accent, "What're you doing here? Need to steal our strategies?" The rest of the team landed to see what the conflict was about. "Ha you think my team needs your strategies?" he retorted, his Irish accent flaring to life, "My team could beat you with their eyes closed, Wood." Oliver rolled his eyes.

"I'll leave Wood," he said, "This time." He turned away and started to make his way back to the castle. "Practice is over." Oliver growled. "You're a right fowl git Flint!" he screamed. The Slytherin just ignored the Gryffindor and kept walking. Oliver, frustrated, couldn't stop himself. He grabbed Marcus' arm and punched him in the face. He stumbled back, clutching his bleeding nose.

"You are dead," Marcus roared. He pulled his fist back to punch Oliver. Wood closed his eyes and waited for the impact that never came. He squinted up at the brute staring down at him. "You're not worth it." He said, a pang of…sadness? No it couldn't be sadness. After all, a guy like Marcus Flint couldn't feel could he? "Ollie, let's go!" came the voice of his best friend, Katie Bell. All he could do was nod and walk.

He felt numb after what happened. He couldn't, for the life of him figure out why a Slytherin wouldn't jump at the chance to harm a Gryffindor. Especially when said Slytherin was captain of the house Quidditch team. He climbed into bed, his mind racing.

He finally got it to shut off for the night, figuring he'd question Flint tomorrow.

And then he slipped into unconsciousness.

Short, I know, but I really have an idea of where I want this story to go! Just hang in there!