🤘🏻
cigarette psychology
dacleverfox
1nkblots-deactivated20200926
Okay but like
Oliver Wood looking at little baby Harry Potter stumbling through the corridor, hearing the whispers about how he was the one who defeated Voldemort, how strong do you think he is, do you think he could show us his scar? And Oliver promptly deciding that his age be damned, this boy needs to get on a broomstick and he needs to play some Quidditch. And Oliver is beyond delighted when McGonagall agrees with his unspoken sentiment. The teenager practically drags the child outside and just lets him have fun, playing with every single Quidditch ball even though they both know that he’s a Seeker. Oliver seeing this underfed kid with bruises and cuts and making sure to tell him that he wouldn’t just be a good Seeker, he’d be a good Beater too, and god isn’t it amazing that they have the youngest seeker in a century because that’s a huge accomplishment? And Oliver turning away with a grin as Harry’s eyes light up until they’re brighter than the Great Hall at Christmas.
It’s Oliver’s sixth year and people are panicking. Oliver tries to keep them focused on Quidditch as much as possible, he tries to get them into the air for hours, watching them race around on their brooms until their hair tangles into giant nests. And when McGonagall tells him that their match has been cancelled, Oliver’s first instinct is to tell her that she can’t cancel Quidditch. Because she can’t. He thought she understood. He’s scared too, practically petrified himself, but they need this. Hogwarts needs this. He needs this. Everyone needs this. She can’t cancel Quidditch.
The spirits of the school only continue to drop until Ginny is finally taken. That night, Oliver seizes the backs of the twins’ shirts, noting how pale and shaken they are. He drags them across the Common Room, throws them onto the couch, and shoves to Quidditch books beneath their noses and damn it, he doesn’t care if he has to glue their eyes to the bloody page, they’re going to read the basics of a Wronski Feint. He forces them to focus on Quidditch because it’s better, so much better, than having them focus on the other things happening in their lives right now.
Oh god it’s his last year and Harry, this kid, is freaking out because there’s an escaped murderer out to get him because this kid just can’t catch a break! And now there are Dementors actual Dementors, surrounding the school. Everyone’s depressed. Everyone’s scared. And it takes everything that Oliver has to focus on Quidditch, let alone force everyone else to do so. He knows that Harry’s exasperated; Oliver keeps popping up in the corridors to talk to him about Quidditch drills. He doesn’t care if Harry’s late for class. This is important. Harry needs this. They both do. They all do. And so Oliver does his best to keep his mind off of the murderer and the Dementors and the onset of puberty. And when those demons literally intrude their first Quidditch match, Oliver is ready to murder someone. How dare they? It was their one safe place and those demons practically corrupted it. And so Oliver works extra hard, pressuring the others as much as possible, doing everything in his power to make sure that they don’t turn away from Quidditch, that they have this in their lives, because they need this. They need to win the cup, not just for the points, not just for the glory, but because…because they need it. And when they win, oh god when they win, Oliver’s there to pull Harry into the tightest hug he can while profusely sobbing because he’s happy, he’s so happy, the happiest he’s ever been. And Harry’s happy too. So happy that Oliver silently dares the Dementors to come back out onto the pitch because he knows that the thirteen-year-old could take them.
Oliver graduates a few months later, of course. But as he steps through the barrier to Platform 9 ¾, he grabs a startled Arthur Weasley and tells him that, no matter what, he has to take those children to the Quidditch World Cup this summer. Because the world is getting darker and the storm is getting closer and they need that distraction, that excitement, that source of light.
(Basically I love all of the jokes about Oliver being obsessed with Quidditch like any over-exaggerated high school athlete but I also love the thought of Oliver treating the entire game as more of a means of rehabilitation that they all need.)