People never talk to me… my life is sad. My life is simple. It's Quidditch. Or should I say it was Quidditch. For those of you who haven't heard, my name is Oliver Joseph Cynthia Wood. I'm a recovering Quidditch-holic.
I'll first address the issue of my name. Yes, one of my middle names is Cynthia. Ages and ages ago my great grandmother times like a million learned she could not conceive another child other than her already existing son, Oliver. Feeling bad and wishing to continue on her name she threw in the Cynthia. That tradition has carried on ever since. Every other generation, well the first son anyway, is now bestowed with Oliver Joseph Cynthia Wood.
Next, I'd wish to talk about where you may have heard that name. I was the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain at Hogwarts for three years. I captained the legendary Harry Potter. Then, after I graduated from Hogwarts, I began playing for Puddlemere United. I played there for my entire career. This consisted of a total of five seasons. After winning the World Cup in 2000, I learned something awful. I had to stop playing.
During the World Cup, a bloody dirty and rough game, I got hit… with various things many times. I got hit with bludgers, players, beater bats, and things thrown into the pitch from angry Bulgarian fans. I had such an adrenaline rush I never noticed the severe pain in my back and head. When our Seeker caught the Snitch, my fist thrust into the air with pride. I felt it. A searing pain rush from the center of my spine in both directions going down to the lowest part of my back, to my head. It almost felt like an explosion within my brain. I don't remember what happened next other than what people told me. Apparently I fell from my broomstick and almost hit the ground when somebody caught me with a spell.
I woke up a week later in St. Mungo's laying on my stomach. They pain was ridiculous. I knew I had to be on pain medication, but I still felt it. My sister, Connie, noticed I woke up and immediately she and my parents were at my side talking to me. All three of them at once were making an awful amount of noise that made my head hurt even more.
I groaned in what must have sounded like agony because they shut up. I was glad. My sister knelt down next to the bed.
"Oliver, do you remember what happened?"
I tried to shake my head no but I couldn't do it. So I tried to speak. I heard a 'No.' come out of my mouth, but it sounded foreign to me. It definitely did not sound like my voice.
"Okay, well during the game you got hit a whole lot. One particular time you got hit in the top of you spine with a beater bat. It injured your spinal chord, and that's why your back and head hurt. A woman in the stands was a Healer and she caught you with a spell. She's actually your doctor now." My sister said, trying not ramble but failed.
I couldn't make any form of agreement or acknowledgement so I didn't. The pain in my body was so awful. I wanted it to end so I could go home and pretend that this wasn't happening to me. I couldn't move. I definitely think there were spells holding me down. Otherwise I would have felt the pain when I tried to move.
I groaned again, this time not in pain but in frustration. I tried to work any and every part of my body. I couldn't. All I could do is lay there and watch my family look down upon me with sadness and pity in there eyes. It was the worst feeling I ever felt.
I noticed my mother leave, and it felt like days before she returned. In reality it had only been a few minutes. She returned with a woman with the usual white Healer coat on. The woman seemed oddly familiar. She had brown hair. It was a little wavy at the ends but mostly straight. She had eyes the color of cinnamon and they seemed to be pools of emotion. I was lying down but judging by the height of my five foot six sister she could only have been five foot… maybe five foot one. She had this air about her. She could have only been 20 years old or so but she seemed to be about 100 in wisdom. Her magic almost radiated off of her. Then again, I was heavily medicated at the time and I thought that I was so out of it that it could have been a man.
Suddenly I felt cold. Then I realized that this mystery woman had kicked my family out of the room and pulled the blanket from me and pushed up my hospital gown to look at my back. I could feel her warm hands touching and prodding gently. She took note of every time I winced in pain. Finally she muttered a spell and the pain suddenly melted away. She kneeled down just as my sister had. She smiled slightly.
"Hello, Mr. Wood. I'm your Healer, Hermione Granger."
I couldn't make noise. Not out of pain but out of shock and recognition. This was that girl from Hogwarts. She was a couple years younger than me, friends with Harry Potter. She was the book-wormish kid. Always with her nose in a book or with a quill of a piece of parchment. Hell, I, a seventh year when she was a third year, asked her with help on homework. She knew more about any subject I took than the teachers probably did. And she had definitely grown up. Quite nicely actually. Then, I realized what I had just been thinking. Quickly I shut my open mouth. Could I have embarrassed myself anymore?
Finally, I managed some sound from my mouth. "Oh my, God."