The quidditch pitch. - Oliver Wood x reader

~•Chapter Four•~

I sat down at the Ravenclaw table, happily. And 'luckily' for me, I managed to sit with the Quidditch team. I eventually managed to drown them out, as I immersed in a conversation with Cho. "So, do you practise every weekend?" She asked me, as I sipped water from my my blue goblet. "Practise what?" I cocked one of my eyebrows. "Quidditch. You know, with your dad?" I shook my head. "No, I told you, I don't like Quidditch. You might as well talk to my big brother. He's as obsessed as my father." I chuckled. "Are you being serious?" She laughed. I nodded. "I'd much rather have a book." I confirmed. She was about to protest to my confession, but then the final clapping had finished for the ceremony. Which meant, everyone had been sorted into their houses. A man with a long, knee-length beard stood up, clapped his hands, and boomed in a kind voice; "May the feast begin!" Soon, the empty golden plates were filled with a whole variety of food, I marvelled each and every one of them, seeing what their was. I eventually picked out some mixed veg, chicken, and Yorkshire pudding covered in gravy. It was absolutely delicious, and for desert; a brownie.

Next, we were given our time-tables for the school year. I smiled, to see that my first lesson was Charms. What I had been looking forward to. But my reading of the sheet was interrupted with Professor McGonagall making an announcement. "Tuesday, lesson are cancelled, due to a Quidditch match between Ravenclaw and Gryffindor." She smiled. I just sighed lightly, more reading time apparently.

The prefect got us all the stand up, and lead us to a common room, and the portrait asked us a riddle; 'what gets wetter the more it dries?' He thought for a moment, before figuring it out and turning to us. "Anybody want to try?" "A towel." I stated, tired. The portrait nodded, and let us in. It was like a library, it was glorious, book, upon book, upon book. "The girl's dorms are up the stairs to the left, and the boys; the same to the right." We started up the stairs, and was welcomed by a warm grey and blue room, I saw my trunk with my initials on to the right-hand-side. I perched on the bed, looking at the four-poster, as Cho did the same on hers. We had the dorm to ourselves apparently. "Night Cho" I say, going into the bathroom to change my attire.

*

Tuesday rolled around faster then expected, all of my fellow first years were so excited to be able to go to their first Quidditch game, but I wasn't. I just wanted to get away from all the Quidditch stuff, it's extremely frustrating getting a Howler from your father telling you that: 'it isn't too late to start training!' I walked up the moving staircases as everyone walked down. "Hey, aren't you (Y/n) Cossel?" A boy with hazel hair and a Scottish accent asked me. I rolled my eyes and frustration. "Yes, yes I am, how can I help you?" 'Maybe he isn't going to ask you about Quidditch!' I told myself, smiling slightly at him. "Aren't you going to the Quidditch match?" And there it is. The dreaded question. "No, I'm not." I tried to carry on up the stairs, but he grabbed my arm. "Why? I'm captain for Gryffindor Quidditch team." He continued smugly. "Good for you?" His expression faltered. "And... since your dad is Malcom Cossel, I assumed you would be there." "Nope, See you later." I headed towards the library, ignoring his shouts of protest.

I arrived at the empty library and smiled. Peace and quiet I told myself. I chose a book at random, and skimmed the title. 'Middle, muddle, how to deal with a muggle!' I shrugged, it would do. 'Muggles have had problems with us in the Wizarding World for millennials. We must be prepared for the future if someone chooses to reveal the hidden secrets of the unknown.' It read, as I was about to turn the page, I was interrupted by someone's cough. "Oh, hello Professor!" I said, to my head of house: Professor Flitwick. "My dear girl, the match is beginning in five minutes!" He said, cocking his head in confusing as to ask why I am not there. "Oh, I know Professor." I said, closing my book to talk to him. "Are you not going?" "No sir, I'm not a big fan of Quidditch." I continued, shrugging. He scoffed. "Not a fan of Quidditch? You'll probably be playing for Ravenclaw next year!" He said, ushering me out of the library. "I've only played twice, honestly Professor I'd rather be in the library. "Nonsense!" He hushed me, leading me towards the pitch.