There we go :) I'll get my profile up to start


Maddelynn Bennett
Age - 15
Hair Color - Strawberry Blonde
Eye Color - Aquamarine

Mini Bio - Maddelynn had a very strict upbringing, which is reflected in her mannerisms. She is very quiet and due to her strange upbringing, very shy. She doesn't seem to fit in as well with the other students, so she sticks to her studies. She takes her school work very seriously and spends a lot of time in the library.

Name: Oliver Wood
Age: 15
Hair Color: Dirty Brown
Eye Color: Brown
Mini Bio: Wood was brought up as a single child in a loving magical family. Ever since he could remember, he was teetering around his house in his toy broomstick and grew up obsessed with all things Quidditch. During his second year at Hogwarts, he managed to make the Gryffindor Quidditch team and was ecstatic to fill up the empty Keeper spot. Charlie Weasley, the previous captain, had just graduated after his fourth year and to Wood's surprise, McGonagall named him the new Captain. Although a good student, Wood had strict priorities when it came to his life and Quidditch usually came before all.

I just got home and gathered my wits, so I'll go ahead and make the opening post :) It's 91 degrees where I live and I roasted at a ball game for two hours :gonk:

Anyhoo!!! I'll get to making my post!

((Welcome home. It's around 90 degrees here too and ridiculously hot. I'll be waiting then :D))

It was a typical morning at Hogwarts, nothing too special. It was a sunny morning with an occasional cloud or two. The grounds looked warm and inviting. Too bad she was stuck inside.

Maddelynn breathed a sigh as she rounded a corner on the way to Defense Against the Dark Arts. One of her least favorite classes. It wasn't just the subject, either. It was the dreary subject and her bumbling Professor. Professor Quirrell was hard to focus on, what with his terrible stutter and nervous twitching. She entered the classroom quickly, her ankle boots clicking quietly as she walked. She picked a seat in the middle of the room and began pulling her books and parchment from her black satchel.

Her strawberry blonde hair was tied back in a braid, which hung over her shoulder. Her bangs laid lazily across her forehead, but not in a way that would obstruct her view. Her pale cheeks were dusted with a bit of rogue to give it some color and her lips were pink and shined with gloss. She impatiently tapped her booted toes while she waited for the stragglers to arrive at the last minute. She glanced around casually to see how much of the room had filled up.

It was only nine in the morning, but Oliver Wood had been up for hours. The school year had just started, so the workload wasn't too intense yet, which was great because that meant more time for Quidditch training. Tryouts had not yet begun, but Oliver was determined to not let a perfectly good practice day go by. So at the crack of dawn he had woken up the Weasley twins and dragged them out to the field.

"Bloody hell, man," Fred had complained as they trudged their broomsticks through the grass. "Do you know what time it is?"

"We need to work on our formation and sequences now that Charlie's gone," Oliver replied calmly as he motioned for them to hurry up. "I want to make him proud."

"Charlie's busy getting his arse burned by dragons," George mumbled sleepily. "Why can't we do this after breakfast?"

"Because," Oliver said as he mounted his broom. "I have class right after breakfast and this is perfect training weather. No one'll bother us."

The three Gryffindors spent the early morning discussing Bludger strategies and how to best guard the goal posts. Oliver was so immersed in the feeling of flight that he barely noticed the sun rising higher and higher over the sky. Or the students quickly making their way to their first class. All that he cared about at the moment was soaring through the sky, weightless on broom. The cup was right there, and with enough preparation, practice, and teammwork, it was Gryffindor's for the taking.

"Wood! Oy, Oliver!" Fred called from beneath a castle arch. "We're off to Potions! We're late enough as it is, and Snape's dreadful in the morning."

"Damn," Oliver cursed as he quickly landed by the broom shed and locked his broomstick away. Where had the time gone? Robes flapping, he ran down the corridors to Defense Against the Dark Arts. Out of breath when he rounded the corner, he pushed open the wooden doors to reveal a class that was well underway. Mumbling an apology to Professor Quirrell, he quickly scanned the room for an open seat. As luck would have it, the only one open was next to a strawberry-blonde Griffyndor . . . in the middle of the room.

"Excuse me, pardon me," Oliver whispered as he made his way through the throng of Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs. "Just trying to get to that seat over there." He sat down, face flushed from a combination of the run to the classroom, and the embarrassment of having to interrupt half the class just so he could sit down.

"N-n-n-noww, then," stuttered Professor Quirrell after the class had calmed down. "As I w-was s-say-ing b-before, this year w-we will re-require you t-t-to work on a y-y-year-longg project, w-w-worth twenty percent of your final gr-grade."

"Excuse me," Oliver whispered to the girl next to him. "Do you have a spare quill and parchment I could borrow? I forgot mine."

Maddelynn focused, as well as she could, on Professor Quirrell, but her attention was broken when she heard the door. She turned to see Wood coming through the door. She turned back Quirrell when he began again. Her shoulders drooped at the prospect of a year long project. She could handle a few weeks, but she worried that she might overwhelm herself. She looked to Oliver when he asked for writing utensils. She nodded silently and dug through her bag. She handed him a spare roll of parchment and dug further in the black bag. She pulled out a small bottle of ink, labeled 'spare' and a black-handled dip pen. Unlike her classmates, she avoided using feathered quills. She could never keep them nice, it seemed. Her feathers always looked chewed and half bare by the second week of school. She handed them to him with a soft smile, "There you go."

"Thanks," Oliver said as he hastily unscrewed the ink top and dipped the pen in. He began to scrawl down notes on the project and was grateful for Quirrell's stutter, as it allowed him to catch up. What was this project? he wondered to himself. None of his upperclassmen friends had bothered to warn him about this year long project, and it seemed like the requirements were neverending.

"A-and f-f-f-finally," stuttered Professor Quirrell. "Y-y-you w-w-will notice tha-that you ar-are s-s-seated in p-p-airs. Gre-eet y-your pro-j-ject p-p-partner noww.

Oliver nearly ripped his borrowed parchment upon hearing Quirrell's last sentence. You've got to be kidding me, he thought as he turned around to face the girl who had loaned him his writing utensils. He had seen her face around sometimes in the library, her nose constantly buried in one book or another, but he barely knew her name. As far as he was concernd, she was about as foreign to him as the Slytherin common room.

"Hey," he said as he extended his left arm for a handshake. "I'm Oliver. Oliver Wood. And you are?"

Maddelynn took down notes as Quirrell spoke. Her hand moved slowly, as to form each cursive letter perfectly. She was taught from a young age that notes are useless if you can't read them. When she finished writing, she stared up at Quirrell in silent disbelief. Work with her random seat mate? She didn't even know that boy! Her shoulders sagged again and she put her pen down. Only then did she realize that Wood was speaking to her. She blinked and turned to face him. She looked down to his hand and paused. Giving her head a gentle shake, she took his hand and smiled, "Maddelynn Bennett."

"Nice to meet you Maddelyn," Oliver said as he shook her hand. Upon first impression, she seemed shy and reserved. He glanced over at her parchment and saw that her notes were perfectly handwritten, as opposed to his hasty scrawl. This close, he could see the beautiful blue eyes staring brightly at him from under her bangs. Well, they weren't exactly blue.

"You have really pretty eyes," he said slowly. "What color are they?"

But before she could answer, the classroom door banged open once again, and once again, it was becase of Oliver Wood. Professor McGonagall's face was visible from the other side of the door, her pointed hat the side of the door.

"Sorry for the intrusion, Professor Quirrell," Professor McGonagall stated matter-of-factly. "But could I borrow Wood for a second?"

Me? Oliver thought as all eyes in the room turned to him. What did McGonagall want with him?

"S-s-sure," stammered Professor Quirrell as Oliver quickly got up from his seat and made his way out the door, giving Maddelynn an apologetic smile on the way out.

She smiled kindly, "Nice to meet you, as well." She blushed when he commented on her eyes and asked of the color. She opened her mouth to respond, but shut it when the door opened. She turned to the door, a little surprised to see McGonagall there. She looked to Oliver when she asked for him and raised a thin eyebrow. She wondered, briefly, if he was in trouble, but McGonagall's tone was too soft. If he was, in fact, in trouble, she wouldn't be so soft about it. The entire world would know he'd broken some sort of rule. She returned his smile and watched him leave. She turned back to her notes and picked up her pen, ready to begin again when Quirrell was ready to start teaching again.

Oliver made his way out of the classroom, closing the door quietly behind him as he followed Professor McGonagall down the corridor. They made their way about halfway down the hall before stopping in front of a scared first year Gryffindor student. Oliver raised as eyebrow as he looked questioningly from McGonagall to the student. Dark bangs covered his forehead and glasses concealed the scared green eyes. Was the student in trouble? And if so, what did Oliver have to do with anything? The three of them went into an empty classroom save but for the menacing poltergeist in the corner scrawling profanities on the chalkboard.

"Out, Peeves!" McGonagall barked. The ghost threw the rest of the chalk loudly into the bin before swooping out the door, cursing as he went. McGonagall slammed the door shut after him and turned to face the two boys.

"Potter, this is Oliver Wood," McGonagall said with a rare smile that was unlike her character. " Wood, I have found you a seeker." The excitement in her voice was evident, and for a second Professor McGonagall looked younger than her years.

The relief in the Potter's eyes was evident, but it was quickly followed by a look of confusion. Oliver, on the other hand, was ecstatic.

"Are you serious, Professor?" Oliver asked, barely able to believe the fortuitous turn of events.

"This boy's a natural," McGonagall replied simply. "Caught that thing in his hand after a fifty-foot dive. Charlie Weasley couldn't have done it better." It was then that Oliver noticed Potter was gripping a Remembrall tightly in his left hand. A fifty foot dive? And a first year, no less. Excitement bubbled through Oliver's chest as he looked over Potter's build. Thin, light, and speedy--it was perfect for a Seeker. The cup was there for Gryffindor's taking, he could see it now. The stadium cheering, the sun beating down on his face, victory laps around the arena.

"Wood," McGonagall said sharply, bringing Oliver back down to Earth. "Bring Potter to my office after class. You're both dismissed." And with that, she turned on her heel and strode briskly out the room, leaving Oliver and Potter alone.

"Ever seen a game of Quidditch, Potter?" Oliver asked as they made their way back to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. "You're going to love it." He left Potter at Professor Quirrell's room and quietly made his way back to his seat. The entire class was abuzz, no doubt discussing the project they had to do. Oliver sat back down next to Maddelynn, who looked oddly emotionless as she flipped through her notes. This was one chick he was not able to read.

"Hey," he said as he scooted back into his seat. "What'd I miss?"

She glanced up at Oliver when he returned and looked back to her notes, "You didn't miss much. He was explaining exactly what he wants us to do." She handed him her notes. There were two pages of neatly scrawled notes.

She wriggled around in her seat and casually swept her bangs out of her face. She cleared her throat lightly and folded her hands in her lap. "So," she began, "What did Professor McGonagall want?" She knew it wasn't her place to ask, but she couldn't help herself. She was overly curious sometimes.

Oliver looked over what he had messed in Maddelynn's neat handwriting and groaned inwardly at the amount of work that he'd have to do this year for this one class. It seemed simple enough, research a topic from the below list and give a presentation at the end of the school year along with an essay. But as Oliver looked deeper into the guidelines, he realized a lot of work would be needed to get anywhere in the presentation.

"What did Professor McGonagall want?" Maddelyn asked, jolting Oliver out of his self-induced misery. Startled, he looked up and gave her a look, before shrugging and giving back her notes. He wanted to tell her, but in the back of his head he was wary. With his euphoric high gone and his head clear again, he was doubtful as to whether Potter would actually be allowed to play. First years, after all, have not been allowed to play Quidditch for about a hundred years, give or take.

"Ever seen a game of Quidditch, Maddelyn?" he asked instead, echoing the same question he asked Potter only a moment ago.

Maddelynn idly twisted her pen in her slender fingers, slowly as to not fling ink everywhere, while she waited for him to respond. When he didn't answer right away, she started to feel guilty. She knew it was none of her business and she shouldn't have asked. When he asked her if she'd ever seen a Quidditch game, she paused. She shook her head slightly, "I was never allowed as a child and when I got to school, I suppose I never had the urge. Why do you ask?"

~: Sorry I took so long :\ I had to work tonight :~

Oliver nearly fell off his seat. Never seen a game of Quidditch? When she was little, he could understand, but they've been at Hogwarts for more than four years, and she hadn't bothered to come out to one of the games? Oliver shook his head, he had unknowingly partnered with a Quidditch virgin.

"That's a shame," he said with a slight smile on his face. "But if you haven't seen even one game, you wouldn't understand my excitement right now."

Class was drawing to a close, and as they had a free period next many kids were making plans to get started on the project immediately afterwards. Oliver politely returned his borrowed pen to Maddelynn and rolled up his parchment. Sticking it in his right robe pocket, he hastily shot out of his seat.

"It was nice meeting you," he said as he got up. "And I'd love to work on the project with you sometime soon, but I've somewhere I got to be right now. You should really catch a game sometime, the excitement on the stands is contagious." And with that, he bolted out the door for McGonagall's office.

Maddelynn was a little surprised at his answer, but she supposed he was right. She knew next to nothing about Quidditch and she really didn't want to get caught in a conversation where all she could say was 'Mhm'.

As class was ending, she gathered her things and put them back into her bag. She smiled when he started talking, but it quickly fell when she realized that he was leaving. 'Work on it sometime soon?' She was almost offended that he was darting off before the work even started. They didn't even have a topic and he was ditching her. She jumped up and bolted after him, nearly toppling over a few other students as she went. Her boots clicked loudly on the floor as she rushed after him, "Hey!" she called after him, "Wait a moment!!"

Oliver stopped dead in his tracks as Maddelynn's sweet demure voice blasted through the corridor, not so sweet nor demure anymore. He turned around in shock and found that she had stirred up quite a scene. Students stopped what they were doing and looked slowly from Maddelynn to Oliver, half-expecting a fight to break out, half-pretending to be minding their own business. Oliver was shocked. Where was the quiet, hasn't seen a game of Quidditch her entire life girl just moments before?

"Nothing to see here, chaps," he snapped at the passerbys as he quickly closed the gap between Maddelynn and himself. "What's wrong?" he asked Maddelynn in his best forced patient manner. How he wanted to just bolt towards McGonagall's office and deal with her later.

Straightening herself and brushing her bangs out of her face, she took a gentle breath and looked up at him. Suddenly, it was all too obvious what sort of propriety she had been exposed to growing up. "Mr. Wood," she began, her voice quiet, but commanding, "We have, for lack of a better phrase, just had an invisible chain attached to the two of us. This chain will tether us together for the rest of the school year where Defense Against the Dark Arts is concerned. The next hour is the most perfect opportunity to get a running start on this project. A project that, need I remind you, is worth twenty percent of our final grade."

Oliver was taken aback. He Wanted nothing more than to ask her who stuck a wand up her behind, but bit his tongue to stop those thoughts from turning into words. And what was up with this witch's language?

"You can call me Oliver, you know," he said as he cocked his head to the side. "And let me assure you, Ms. Bennett, I have every intention of working on the project. It's just that I have a meeting right now that's a lot more bloody important than homework."

Oliver started walking backwards, painfully aware that even as they spoke, he was later and later for his meeting with McGonagall and Potter. "Look," he said in an attempt to compromise. "Find me at lunch, okay? I'll answer any questions you have then. But right now I've got to go." And with that he turned on his heel and sprinted towards McGonagall's classroom.

"Sorry, sorry," he breathed as he opened the door to find the two waiting for him, McGonagall a bit impatiently. "I got caught up."

"As Captain, I expect you to be more prompt, Wood," Professor McGonagall began sternly before launching into detail regarding the logistics of Harry joining the team. I hadn't occurred to Oliver before, but this was Harry Potter! Up close, he could make out the scar peeking out from under his bangs. But for Oliver, it didn't matter if Harry had been brought up by merpeople and giants as long as he could fly. God knows they needed a good Seeker to replace Charlie.

"So it's final, then?" Oliver asked McGonagall once she had finished speaking. "Harry can play? We just need to get him a broom?"

"Oh yes," she said, a smile threatening to play upon her lips. "Professor Dumbledore gave him blessing, and you can leave the broom to me."

"Wicked," Oliver said as McGonagall dismissed the two boys. The bell signaling the end of class had begun to ring, but Oliver was too engrossed in catching Harry up on the details of Quidditch. Harry's absolute lack of knowledge about any of the rules in Quidditch reminded him of a certain witch in Defense Against The Dark Arts, and he realized he was to meet her at the Gryffindor table for lunch. "You're the youngest Hogwarts Quidditch player in a century," he told Harry with a wink before he ran off to meet Maddelynn.

When Oliver left Maddelynn standing there, she huffed and stormed off to the library. She had hoped to have her partner there when she picked a topic, but she wasn't going to wait around for him. She closed her eyes and pointed to one while she sat there. It was the most logical way to choose, at least in her eyes.

After getting her topic, she spent the next hour searching the library for books on the subject. She pulled down as many as she could carry and took a hefty amount of notes. It was a good start, she figured, so she wasn't too upset when she realized she had run out of time.

Picking up her things, she returned most of the books to their shelves and hurried to the counter to check one particularly informative book out. Once she was finished at the counter, she hurried along. When she reached the Great Hall, she took a seat toward the end of the Gryffindor table. She got out her notes and the library book, propping it up on her bag. She served herself some soup and began to read while it cooled.

Oliver pushed open the doors to the Great Hall, exposing himself to the wonderful scents of lunch that quickly wafted towards his nose. The Great Hall was noisy like it always was at mealtime, and Oliver barely noticed the magicked ceiling that depicted the weather outside perfectly. His stomach grumbled as he realized he was really hungry; after all, he had missed breakfast this morning because of practice. He strolled towards the Gryffindor table, nodding to friends and classmates along the way as he searched for a particular strawberry blonde head. He found her at the edge of the table, nose buried in a giant dusty textbook while nursing a bowl of soup.

Oliver made his way to her side and took the seat opposite her, ignoring Slytherin jeers along the way. The school year had barely started and already they were starting to pick a fight. Oliver filled up his plate with food as he waited for Maddelynn to notice him, but when she didn't he cleared his throat a little.

"Eh hem, hey Maddelyn?" he started as he took a bite out of a sandwich. "Sorry about running out on you earlier."

Maddelynn sipped her soup carefully off of her spoon while she read. She had gotten through a few pages when she heard someone clear their throat. She looked up, a bit surprised to see Oliver sitting across from her.

She straightened up and closed the book. She set it and her bag on the bench next to her and looked across the table at him. She picked up a piece of bread and began tearing pieces off and dropping them in her soup, "You'll be happy to know that we have a topic. I took the liberty of choosing one while you were off doing....whatever it was you were doing."

She set the bread down and dusted her hands off. She stirred her soup a few times and took a bite. She slid her notes across the table, "This is what I've done so far."

Oliver felt a stab of annoyance at her condescending dismissal towards his leaving earlier today. He took a swig of pumpkin juice and refused to acknowledge her notes.

"You chose a topic without me?" he said, surprised. "Was it honestly so hard to wait a couple of hours so we could pick a topic together?"

Oliver sighed in annoyance as he flung the notes back at her. "It wasn't as if I was skiving from research," he explained as he lowered his voice into a whisper. "You know when McGonagall came into Quirrell's class? She found us a Seeker, and according to her, he's a bloody good one at that." Oliver could barely keep his excitement contained and his voice rose a couple octaves toward the end. Surely even she would understand the importance of filling in the empty Seeker spot over researching a topic for class.

Maddelynn stirred her soup with a bored expression. She caught the parchment as he flung them at her and scowled. She rolled them back up and placed them back in her satchel.

"Was it honestly so hard to give me fifteen minutes of your time to pick the topic before you dashed off?"

She listened carefully while he explained what McGonagall wanted from him, but he lost her moments after he started speaking. She raised an eyebrow and opened her mouth to comment, but found she had nothing to say. So she blurted out the only thing that came to mind, "...What is a Seeker?"