𝔗𝔥𝔢 ℭ𝔬𝔩𝔩𝔢𝔠𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫

-𝕆𝕝𝕚𝕧𝕖𝕣 𝕎𝕠𝕠𝕕-

Seventh Year Gryffindor and Quidditch Captain, Oliver Wood, was determined. Quidditch was his life, his dream, his goal. It was all he ever thought about, and he worked tirelessly for it. Oliver had the best Quidditch team at Hogwarts - that much was clear to anyone who watched them play. But, year after year, victory always seemed to slip from their grasp in the final matches. This year, however, was different. It was his last year at Hogwarts, his final year as Quidditch Captain, and he was more determined than ever to win. He had devised the perfect training schedule and the perfect tactics, leaving no stone unturned in his quest for victory. He pushed his team harder than ever before, determined to break the streak of near misses and disappointments. The Gryffindor Quidditch team was a well-oiled machine, and their captain was ready to lead them to glory.

But one thing he never planned for was Adhara Potter. Adhara was a name known to every witch and wizard, not just for her Quidditch skills, but as the "savior", "the girl who lived", the "vanquisher" of the Dark Lord. Oliver had always seen her as an amazing Seeker, an indispensable part of the team, but this year, something was different. It all started on the train back to Hogwarts. As fate would have it, Oliver and Adhara bumped into each other in the narrow corridor. He couldn't explain it, but as their eyes met, his face turned beet red, his palms became clammy, and his heart raced like a runaway bludger. He struggled to string together coherent sentences as they exchanged pleasantries, and he found himself unable to look away from her beautiful, vivid, almond-shaped, mismatched eyes. What had changed? Oliver couldn't put a finger on it. Adhara Potter had always been a fellow Gryffindor, a teammate, but now she was something more. Oliver tried to push his odd reaction to Adhara out of his mind, reminding himself to stay focused on the one thing that had always mattered most to him: Quidditch. He couldn't afford any distractions, especially with this being his final year.

As the train rumbled on, it suddenly came to an abrupt stop, causing everyone to jolt in their seats. The air grew cold and heavy, and an eerie presence filled the compartment. Oliver's heart raced, not knowing what had caused the sudden interruption. He glanced out the window, noticing a dark, hooded figure gliding alongside the train. A Dementor. The name "Sirius Black" echoed through the carriage, and it became apparent that the Dementor was in search of this elusive escapee from Azkaban Prison. However, it was not the Dementor's pursuit of Sirius Black that had Oliver's attention, but the effect it had on Adhara. She wasn't in his compartment, so he couldn't see what was happening, but word quickly spread like wildfire throughout the train once it started moving again. Adhara Potter had fainted. Concern gnawed at Oliver's mind as he thought about her. Dementors were known for their ability to induce feelings of despair and hopelessness in those who encountered them, and Adhara, despite her heroic reputation, was not immune to their influence. He couldn't help but worry for her well-being, his earlier reaction to her now overshadowed by a growing sense of concern.

Dementors at Hogwarts! It felt like a nightmare. Oliver's mind raced with disbelief and frustration. How had they all gone completely mad to allow such vile creatures to roam the outskirts of the school grounds? He couldn't help but direct a critical gaze towards the headmaster's seat, where Dumbledore sat. This was a decision he couldn't quite fathom. His worried eyes flickered down the Gryffindor table, and he couldn't help but notice Adhara, who appeared slightly paler than usual. The concern for her was undeniable, and he couldn't shake the feeling that he needed to protect her from the looming darkness that had infiltrated the school. 'Quidditch! Focus, Oliver, on Quidditch!' he whispered to himself, as if trying to anchor his racing thoughts. He knew the team was counting on him, and his determination to win the Quidditch Cup had to remain unwavering. But despite his best efforts to concentrate on his beloved sport, his heart continued to beat fast whenever he glanced in Adhara's direction. He rationalized it as a lingering effect of the worry over the Dementors' presence, but deep down, he couldn't shake the idea - Nope! Focus on Quidditch!

The Hospital Wing was bathed in an eerie, pale light, and the air was thick with anxiety. She looked so small and delicate on the bed, her features softened by unconsciousness. The Gryffindor Quidditch team surrounded her, their faces etched with worry and guilt, as she lay still and vulnerable. Oliver's frustration boiled over as he gazed at Adhara. He couldn't help but feel that the Dementors' presence had been a disastrous decision. He couldn't fathom what Dumbledore had been thinking, allowing such dangerous creatures near the school. Adhara had almost met her end, plummeting from the sky after those wretched Dementors had swarmed her and made her faint. Her broom was now in splinters, a stark reminder of the danger they had all faced. His anger shifted to frustration as Cedric Diggory approached apologetically, offering a rematch. But in that moment, Oliver's emotions overwhelmed him. 'THIS IS NOT THE TIME FOR QUIDDITCH!' he thundered before he could even think or stop himself. His eyes widened, and his voice faltered as he realized the gravity of what he had just said. The others, including his team, froze in shock, their jaws hanging open.

Never had he ever deprioritized Quidditch, not even in the most dire of circumstances. Quidditch had always been his North Star, the one constant in his life. As the weight of his words settled in the air, he felt a strange mix of guilt and relief. Guilt for neglecting the sport that had defined so much of his life, and relief for acknowledging that there were things more important than winning a game. In that moment, as he watched Adhara lying motionless, he understood that some things were more important than even the beloved sport he had dedicated his life to. Quidditch would have to wait; Adhara's well-being was paramount.

The day had finally arrived, the culmination of their hard work and unwavering determination. They'd trained relentlessly, overcome every obstacle, and now, Oliver was ready to lead his team to victory. The Quidditch Cup was within their reach, and they were determined to seize it. Walking onto the pitch, the excitement was palpable. Oliver shook the opposing Captain's hand, exchanged a few words, and then Madam Hooch blew the whistle to start the game. The rush of adrenaline, the roar of the crowd, the wind beneath his broom – it was a moment he had been waiting for. And they did it! They won! The Gryffindor team emerged victorious, the score 2030-20 against Slytherin. The sky was filled with red and gold robes as they all descended to the pitch in a frenzy of joy and celebration. Gryffindors from the stands poured onto the field, joining in the jubilation. The cheers of happiness filled the air, echoing through the stadium. Oliver was overwhelmed with happiness and gratitude. He couldn't contain his emotions any longer. In the heat of the moment, with joy coursing through his veins, he couldn't resist the impulse that had been building all year. He kissed her. Adhara Potter, the girl who had unknowingly captured his heart, looked at him in astonishment, their eyes locking in a shared moment of shock. Then, just as swiftly, she melted into the kiss, joyously responding to his impulsive gesture. 

In that fleeting moment, with the taste of victory and happiness on their lips, Oliver couldn't help but feel that this kiss, this connection, was worth more than any Quidditch Cup.