How does one measure the worth of a player?

He had won every award Quidditch had to offer, played at the top of his game for over a decade, and was celebrated as one of the game’s greats, but still he pondered that question.

Funny, how one picks up philosophy at the end of their career.

The call of the announcer shouting the names of his opponents brought his attention back to the pitch. This was it, his final game. He had one last chance to find an answer to his question and say goodbye to the game he loved.

Oliver Wood was jolted out of his musing as the commentator began introducing the opposing team.

"I give you the Montrose Magpies! Allen, Rowett, Pearson, Blake, Burns, Jackson, and Grey!" the commentator shouted into the magical microphone.

"Alright team, this is it," Wood said solemnly.

"And now Puddlemere United! Johnson, Dalton, Walker, Wood, Thompson, Williams, and Maxwell!"

Taking a deep breath, Oliver mounted his broom, and took off into the sky. After a warm up lap, he and his teammates landed at their bench for his routine pregame pep talk -- the last of his professional career. He cleared his throat.

"As you all know, this is my last game." Oliver stared at the six faces surrounding him, all of which were giving him the same solemn, respectful stare. The crowds cheered out his name, knowing it was his last run on the field.

"We've been together for years now. We've had some bad runs and some damn good runs, and we've lost some that we cared about." They all nodded, and he went on. "Today is the last day that I have the honour of playing with you lot, and all I can say is let's kick their--!"

"Oliver!"

Angelina looked sternly at her captain. After all the years they had played together, she still had to keep him in line.

Smirking, Oliver said, "Let’s go get them, team!" and led them onto the field.

"Captains, shake hands," referee Marks said.

Oliver shook hands with a tough looking Amy Pearson, and returned to his team.

Marks blew his whistle and the teams rocketed into the air. Oliver took his place at the hoops, still unsure of his decision to leave, but he was torn away from his thoughts as the Quaffle was released and Angelina took possession.

Angelina sped up the pitch. She dodged left around a Bludger and nearly collided with a blur of black that spun out of control towards the ground. She slowed down her broomstick as three players from the Magpies lined up in front of her, blocking her from the other side of the pitch. She frantically looked around. Spotting Walker above her, she tossed the Quaffle high in the air.

Walker flew above the Magpies and dove down to the ground, just like in practice. Dalton came to his right and grabbed the Quaffle before giving the thumbs up to Walker.

Dalton sped down the pitch. The Magpie's Chasers surrounded him in a formation he hadn't seen before; he didn't know where to expect their interception. Hoping for the best, he caught Angelina's eye and nodded, diving toward her.

But just as the Quaffle was on the tip of his fingers, Pearson came in on his right, jutting him so hard that the Quaffle dropped into the hands of the Chaser waiting below him. Cursing as pain shot through his arm, he waved off the worried stares coming from his teammates and shot toward Pearson, staying on her tail.

"Damn them!" Oliver shouted from his position at the hoops, looking livid. "That should have been a foul! Pathetic tossers!"

"Allen with the Quaffle now, after a vicious hit to Dalton, by Captain Pearson. This match is just beginning and already the rivalry shows," Leanne Davis shouted from the commentator's booth.

"Allen passes to Rowett, who nearly got taken out by that Bludger. Nice shot by Williams there, barely missed his mark. Rowett is off, passes to Pearson, she's in scoring range," Leanne continued.

"Wood seems nervous, that's not like him at all," she added as an afterthought.

A bead of sweat crawled down Oliver’s face. His hands became clammy underneath his gloves as the Quaffle drew nearer and nearer. This was his first real move in his last professional game (the sweat dampened his hairline). He could either have people remember him as saving it (his eyes locked on the Quaffle), or remember him failing (Pearson swerved left). What would people think of him if he let it go through the post? Would they believe he lost his touch? That he didn’t deserve all of those awards? Oliver shifted his hands on his broomstick, doubting his abilities.

The moment the Quaffle was out of Pearson's hands it was swiftly swatted away by the tail end of Oliver's broom -- he hadn't even needed more than a split-second to see which direction it was coming and blocking it had been all too easy. The ball was shot to Angelina who took it back down the pitch.

Nerves? he asked himself, shaking his head. This is what he lived for-- what he'd worked at longer than anything else in his life. More so, this was his last night to play it, and he wasn't going to plague himself with doubts.

Angelina avoided a Bludger sent her way by Holly Jackson and saw her fellow Chasers getting into formation. She took the lead with Jeff to her right and Ben to her left. The Hawk’s Head formation was one of their most practiced maneuvers and was almost always successful. Ben dropped several feet to avoid another Bludger sent to interrupt the formation and in seconds was back in place.

The Quaffle was moving quickly between the three of them as they closed in on the Magpies’ hoops. Nothing stood between them and the hoops but a very determined looking Shelby Blake.

Angelina took the Quaffle from Ben and stared intently at Blake. She scowled and tried to decide on which goal to throw the ball into. Blake was hovering in the middle, on the ready to go whichever way she threw the Quaffle.

Angelina chose the left goal and leaned over, guiding her broom to the post. Blake caught on and quickly took place by the left hoop. Angelina smiled, sharply turned to her right, and underhanded the Quaffle into the center goal post. She turned around and high-fived Dalton who was shouting with the crowd on a victorious goal.

"After a nice score by Angelina Johnson, the Magpies take possession. Pearson with the Quaffle, and damn does she looks determined. She dodges a Bludger from Thompson, passes to Rowett, Rowett to Allen, back to Pearson. The Puddlemere Chasers can't keep up!" Leanne shouted.

Oliver looked less tense than the last time the Quaffle came his way. His previous doubt had evaporated, and he seemed to be more determined than ever. He set himself firmly in front of the center hoop, ready to defend any of the three when the Magpie's Chasers neared his end of the pitch.

The crowd was roaring so loudly at this point that words and phrases were barely discernable. Through it all, though, Oliver could hear that the Magpie's fans were not happy about the leading score to Puddlemere and the familiar chants thrummed in his ears.

When his attention went back to the field he was caught by surprise as the Magpies' Chasers raced toward him in a near-perfect Woollongong Shimmy, completely avoiding his own Chasers. Their speed was astonishing and the fluency of their passes made Oliver nervous at the Hoops. He began swerving, trying to interpret which hoop to guard closest.

Pearson sent the Quaffle sailing toward the left hoop. This would be a goal, of that she was almost positive. No matter how good a keeper Wood was, there was just no way he could get there in time.

“Intercepted by Dalton! What an amazing save!� Leanne yelled as the crowd went wild.

Jeff raced past Pearson with the Quaffle firmly in his grasp as a stunned Amy came back to her senses and took off in pursuit. Jeff weaved in between his own team and the opposing players as he headed down the pitch seemingly unchallenged.

Oliver punched the air as he watched Dalton fly farther away from him. Let’s go, Dalton, you can do this, he thought to himself while shifting on his stick to get a better view of the game. The view he saw, however, was no way near better.

He watched in horror as Burns gleefully smashed a nearby Bludger in Dalton’s direction. The ball cracked on impact and switched its path to Burn’s new destination. He stared at the black ball, watching its path carefully, and felt his stomach drop as he realised it was going to collide with his Chaser.

Oliver's eyes widened as he saw Dalton extend his arm to throw -- he hadn't seen the Bludger heading mercilessly toward him. Before he could even yell, Oliver heard a sickening crack, and saw Dalton, barely clinging to his broom, arm dangling uselessly at his side.

Oliver abandoned the hoops and rushed to his teammate, calling time out along the way. When he reached Dalton he helped him to the ground, and the mediwizards ushered him away from his fallen teammate. Oliver let an old memory consume him, to avoid his current feelings, if only for a moment.

The Bludger, madly zigzagging every which way through the air, finally got its target and Harry was sent to the ground, his eyes wide with shock. Oliver's worries were fighting for dominance: one part was worried for his Seeker, the other, which was winning, was worried about the game.

As hard as it was to pull himself out of his own head, Oliver brought his attention back to Dalton, who was grinning and giving his worried teammates a thumbs-up. However selfish he'd been in his schooldays, Oliver knew where his priorities laid now.

“He’s okay, he’s okay, he’s okay,� Oliver said to himself as the colour slowly returned to his face.

The mediwizards cleared the pitch as soon as they finished with Jeff who was now on his feet. Oliver waited a moment as he watched him test out his newly healed arm looking for signs that it was not mended completely. “All right there, Jeff?� he questioned his Chaser. The well being of his players was his highest priority now.

“Of course, Captain,� Jeff responded.

“All right then, everyone over here, quickly,� Oliver called to the rest of his team.

“Alright, we’re up by ten points. It’s a great start, but now they’re getting dirty. Watch your backs, and most importantly, watch each other. Play to the best of your abilities, which are great, so I want nothing less. We can all do this! This is our life! Those Magpies have nothing compared to what we have – a bond. Walker, that pass to Dalton was amazing! And Angelina – oh, Angelina! – that goal was brilliant! Keep using each other. We’re a team. And the best damn team I’ve ever played with at that! You’ll make me proud no matter what happens!�

"Are you sure you're okay to play, Jeff?" Oliver asked, out of earshot of the others.

“Of course. The arm is good as new, Captain,� Jeff responded, mounting his broom and kicking off.

Oliver nodded while motioning for his team to get back in the air as the referee’s whistle sounded signaling the continuation of play.

"Magpies take possession," Leanne said as Laura Allen took off down the pitch with the Quaffle. "That attack on Dalton was unprovoked; I was surprised not to see a foul called there. Needless to say this match is really heating up."

"That's an understatement," Oliver said to himself.

Leanne's voice continued to boom over the crowd. "It looks like Puddlemere is going to keep this lead they've got, the way this match has started off. Particularly good work by the recently injured Chaser, Jeff Dalton, especially for that interception seen earlier in the game."

"OH!" she shouted, and even with a magically magnified voice her scream of surprise was drowned by the cheering crowds. "Looks like Puddlemere's Beaters, Thompson and Williams were out for blood. Burns, the Magpie's Beater that injured Dalton, has taken a fierce Bludger to the chest!"

The crowd was deafening with the Puddlemere fans cheering and the Magpies’ fans calling for a foul. Oliver was sure hexes were flying in the stands. It was certainly getting nasty but at least his team hadn’t been called for a foul. Sean and Connor knew how to attack well without going too far, but it hadn’t always been that way. He could see Pearson shouting and she looked livid. Her Beaters weren’t letting anyone get near her Chasers as they sped toward Oliver. Now it was between him and the Magpie’s Chasers as they rushed in on the hoops.

Laura Allen was closing in those few metres between her and Oliver. The crowd’s uproar was still ringing in his ears, but he forced himself to block it all out. It was just him, and the Quaffle. She passed behind her to Rowett who whizzed by and threw the Quaffle. Oliver was caught off guard and raced over to defend the right hoop. He reached out his hand and felt the Quaffle brush his fingers before going in.

Oliver yelled in frustration. How did I not see him? he thought, maybe I was right in leaving the game this year.

"Puddlemere back in possession now after the Magpies make their first score of the game," Leanne said, but Ben was paying the announcer no mind as he passed left to Angelina, who caught the Quaffle and sped away, with Thompson and Williams hovering around her.

"Possession has never been so back-and-forth," Leanne continued. "These guys are truly playing at their best in their attempt to keep the Quaffle in their hands. I wonder if this strategy will be for the best or if they're pulling out all the stops before they've gotten halfway through the game."

Angelina caught the Quaffle Jeff passed to her and managed to dodge Amy Pearson who seemed quite determined to get it. She looked below her and saw Ben ready to catch it. Pearson swerved toward her again and Angelina dropped the Quaffle into Ben’s waiting hands. This time she slammed into Amy stopping her from following Ben as he shot down the Pitch in a burst of speed. No one will catch him flying like that, she thought. She watched as Ben closed in on the goals. The Quaffle sailed toward left hoop and Angelina groaned as Blake made the save.

Oliver watched as the Quaffle was denied a goal. They hadn’t put it through the hoops, but Oliver couldn’t help himself from smiling. Those were his Chasers out there. Their passes were perfect and their determination was astounding. He couldn’t help but stare in awe at their wonderful receptions. And he had taught them! To think that he himself had the pleasure of being with such a flawless team was amazing. He continued to watch Angelina. Jackson took the Quaffle and came his way, but Walker was on her in no time. He smiled with satisfaction, listening to the crowd.

~*~

Rachel Maxwell soared high above the pitch, searching for the Snitch. She spun round quickly when she thought she saw a glint of gold, but unfortunately it was only a reflection from the stands. She had been at it over an hour now, and still no sight of the elusive golden ball.

"Puddlemere scores!" Leanne shouted, "140-130 Puddlemere!"

Rachel couldn't believe how tight this match had been so far. She continued her search after catching Angelina for a high five-- she knew it would be up to her to win it for her team.

She zoomed back down the pitch, thankful that the sun had finally taken shelter behind a fat wall of clouds. Without having to squint, Rachel kept her eyes on the field and started circling.

Her attention was taken to Johnson and it took her mind a full twenty seconds to register what her eyes had seen: Johnson, Quaffle in-hand, had turned a full 360 in midair to avoid the Chasers coming toward her. Within seconds she'd flipped and passed the Quaffle to a waiting Walker and even he had been slow to keep going after watching Johnson's move.

“Walker passes to Johnson. Angelina Johnson is definitely on her game today,� Leanne’s voice boomed over the noise of the crowd. “Montrose’s beaters, Jackson and Burns are in pursuit, nice hit on the Bludger by Burns. It’s heading straight for Johnson’s head; I don’t think she can avoid this one. I don’t believe it! That was a perfectly executed Sloth-Grip Roll! Johnson maintains possession of the Quaffle!�

Coming out of the maneuver, Angelina picked up speed as she closed in on the goals and Magpies’ Keeper, Shelby Blake. She took her shot, sending it straight through the center hoop.

“Way to go, mate!� Oliver called out to Angelina. He laughed at the memories building in his mind.

“The Sloth-Grip Roll will be a useful tool for us, and a huge advantage. Pay attention,� Oliver said taking off into the air. He had spent hours perfecting his technique so that he could properly teach his team. He showed them the complicated maneuver three times. “Any questions?� he asked, watching his team attempt to mimic him.

“Yeah, I’ve got one,� George chimed in. “What the bloody hell are you teaching us this for?�

“It might just save your neck someday,� Oliver said gruffly. “I’ve seen it save players from concussions, and worse. Once it becomes a reaction, rather than something you have to think about, it’ll be a great help. Now practice.�

Angelina seemed to pick up the technique the fastest, and Oliver remembered how proud he had been of his best Chaser. Maybe there was some merit to what McGonagall had said to him a week ago. Maybe she had been right. He shook his head to clear his mind; he’d think about that later. For now, he had to focus.

The Magpies were back in possession of the Quaffle and falling into the Hawks Head formation. Sean and Connor each sent a Bludger toward the Chasers but they were both deflected by the Magpies’ Beaters, Holly Jackson and Aaron Burns. They were doing an excellent job of protecting their team.

Oliver watched as they opposing team flew toward him. He flew back and forth between the three hoops looking for a clue as to which one they would try for. Once in scoring range Pearson faked a pass to Rowett and sent the Quaffle through the left ring.

“What an amazing goal by Pearson!� Leanne shouted over the crowd. “They’re really heating up now! Its Magpies back in possession, with Rowett going down the field, pass to Pearson. Oh, and intercepted by Dalton! Puddlemere in possession… well, that wasn’t for long. Allen just stole it back.�

Oliver gripped his broom harder as he saw the opposing Chasers race up to him.

“Allen flying down the field, she passes down to Rowett, he flies up, up, he’s nearing the hoops now. He’s thrown the Quaffle, and it’s in! Ladies and gentlemen, we have a tie! 150-150! It’s anyone’s game now!�

“Finally!� Rachel shouted.

She finally saw what she had been looking for all day, a tiny glint of gold in the sunlight. She took off like a rocket in pursuit of the elusive golden ball. Martin Grey wasn’t far behind. He had heard her shout, and his face showed a wicked determination.

Rachel stretched out her arm, reaching desperately for the Snitch. Suddenly, she was knocked off course. Martin had collided with her on purpose, to prevent her getting the Snitch. The crowd jeered at Martin, and Rachel recovered nicely, but the Snitch was lost to the pitch once more.

Rachel continued to scan the pitch, trying to control her anger; she could not let him beat her to the Snitch. She took a few deep breaths to regain focus and changed direction. Out of her peripheral vision she saw that Grey was still tailing her and knew she needed some space. Rachel went into a dive and he quickly followed. As Rachel neared the ground with Grey close behind she pulled up out of her dive and braked, making sure he would not have enough room to pull his broom back up. He hit the ground with a thud.

“That was a nasty collision with the ground after a nice Wronski Feint by Puddlemere’s Seeker Rachel Maxwell! I hope Grey is alright… oh well, the game must go on!� Leanne said. Angelina looped around Rowett, hoping to get the Quaffle, but he passed it on to Allen before she could take it.

That’s alright, they’ll get it next time, thought Oliver, having faith in his Chasers. Allen was advancing on him, and Oliver wasn’t ready. He tried to block all three poles, but she had already thrown the Quaffle. She sent it through the right hoop and half the crowd cheered.

He groaned and cracked his knuckles. They can’t take the lead. I need to play stronger.

“Magpies score again! That’s three in a row! Angelina Johnson does not look happy; she’s after Pearson, who has once again claimed possession!�

Angelina didn’t look happy at all: murderous was a much better word. She had placed herself between Pearson and the goal, and wasn’t budging. Once Pearson was in range, Angelina shot at her, tackling her and grabbing the Quaffle from her arms.

Pearson took off after her, ignoring the Referee, who was frantically blowing his whistle and signaling for a foul. She took a dive at Angelina, but Angelina was able to duck in time.

Puddlemere’s Chasers had regained possession of the Quaffle and were determined to score. Jeff dove to avoid the Bludger sent toward him by Burns. He grinned, watching his own Beater send it back. Angelina called Jeff’s name and he caught the ball she threw his way. He passed to Ben and blocked Rowett from slamming into Ben as he neared the goals.

Ben threw the Quaffle at the right hoop. Blake made the save and threw it toward her own Chaser, but Ben snatched it first and sent it through the center hoop before Blake could register what had happened.

“What a nasty game this is turning out to be! By nasty, I mean exciting, of course,� Leanne told the crowd. “First, Maxwell fakes a dive for the snitch, injuring Grey, and now Johnson nearly fouls Pearson! Who would have thought that Puddlemere could be so vicious?� The crowd cheered and booed at Leanne’s words, depending on which team they were going for.
“The score is all tied up again at 160-160. Both sides Chaser’s have upped their game, it looks like. Magpies are in possession, now Puddlemere, Pearson takes it back… is anyone going to score anytime soon?�

This match was beginning to remind Oliver of his last game at Hogwarts. It was Gryffindor versus Slytherin and it was one of the dirtiest matches he’d ever seen. Players were fouling each other right and left and there was retaliation for each goal scored or foul committed. Oliver himself had taken two Bludgers to the stomach when no one was in scoring range. Gryffindor had won in the end though. They won the match and the cup that year. He’d been so happy that he’d actually cried on the pitch. Shaking off the memory, he looked around.

As Oliver scanned the stands, he saw that McGonagall was there. She actually showed up for his last game. He was surprised but knew he shouldn’t have been. This had been all her idea after all. He smiled to himself as he remembered how sure she was that he’d accept her offer. She didn’t ask him, not really; she just stated what she expected to happen and was not surprised in the least when he agreed. How in the world had she known he’d agree when he still couldn’t believe it himself? He shook his head. “Focus,� he scolded himself.

Except now he couldn’t focus on anything but that conversation.

“Oliver, how nice it is to see you again!� McGonagall exclaimed.

“You too, Professor,� he had said. She shook her head.

“How many times must I tell you, you need not call me that. Call me Minerva, my dear.� Oliver felt a little awkward doing it, but he did anyway. They sat down for some tea and exchanged a few words about their careers.

“Madam Hooch is leaving next year, did you know?� she slyly asked. Oliver shook his head and thought thoroughly. Maybe it was time to settle down.

Maybe Professor McGonagall was right, Oliver thought to himself, I am a good teacher. I’ve helped my teammates become better players, and I’ve learned a few things along the way myself. I am making the right decision. There are more important things than winning, and trophies.

This was it, the end, and Oliver was surprisingly happy. He smiled to himself as he thought of where he’d be the next day: teaching, passing on knowledge. This was the right choice, and he was glad that he had made it. Suddenly his attention was brought back to the pitch once again.

Rachel circled the pitch looking for any hint of gold. Grey was still tailing her but thankfully, not quite as closely as before. She was sure he didn’t enjoy being run into the ground and she wouldn’t hesitate to do it again.

She looked up for a second and there it was, hovering above her. Rachel took off like a shot after the tiny ball with Grey right behind her. He was inching forward, trying to bring himself even with her. She blocked out everything else, completely focused on the chase, not taking her eyes off the Snitch.

Grey was so close to her, she could hear his heavy breathing. C’mon, just a little faster, she urged her broom. She bent her body even closer to her broomstick, practically kissing the fine mahogany handle. Sweat ran down her face as she held her breath and stretched out her hand. Grey mimicked her, but to no advantage. Rachel was closer than him, and she kept fighting to be even closer. Finally her hand was right on top of it. She quickly snatched it in her hands and felt the tiny wings fold into the ball. She screamed victoriously.

“Maxwell has the snitch! Puddlemere wins! Look at Wood! I don’t think I’ve ever seen him happier. This has been one hell of a match, tooth and nail the whole way through. Final score 310-160 Puddlemere United!� Leanne shouted.

The crowd drowned out the rest of her commentary. Cheers erupted when she announced the final score. McGonagall was in tears and was cheering louder than anyone, and was nearly strangling the man standing next to her. Harry Potter had even shown up for Oliver’s last game, and looked mildly frightened, as McGonagall attempted to squeeze the life out of him.

Pure joy washed over him. Oliver wasn’t sure if he’d ever been prouder of his team then he was at this moment. They had faced an incredibly difficult opponent but were able to pull together for the win. This would be a memory that he would cherish for the rest of his life. He needed to go celebrate with his team and tell them how well they did, but he also wanted to savor the last moments he would have as a professional Quidditch player. He allowed himself a final lap around the stadium.

Oliver flew to the ground with the rest of his team. All of their faces matched with smiles as they went in for a group hug and cheered with the crowd.

“We did it!� they seemed to say altogether.

“Way to go, mate! You won your last game!� Ben shouted and clapped Oliver on the back.

“We won the game!� Oliver proudly said. During all of the celebrating, the trophy was brought over to them. Oliver looked at it and tears swelled up. Angelina hugged him.

“This trophy belongs to you. To the best captain this team has ever seen!�

After Angelina released him, Oliver hugged each of his teammates in turn before he spoke. He needed to gather his thoughts, to tell them how much they meant to him. He wiped his eyes and cleared his throat. “No, this trophy belongs to the team. You are the most incredible group of people that I could ever have hoped to fly with. It has truly been a privilege to play with each and every one of you. You’ve shown me that individual talent can only take you so far. A real player needs to be there for his team.�

“You’re a team in the truest sense of the word and I feel honored to have been your captain,� Oliver continued. “I’ll miss you all next year, but you’ll see me here in the stands. I’ll be cheering you on the loudest. You know I could never bring myself to leave the game without a good reason. I just hope that I can help the next generation of Quidditch players become even half as good as you all are. They’ll have an awful lot to live up to…� Suddenly Oliver was engulfed in hugs again.

When things finally settled down, Oliver found himself sitting in his office, staring at his trophies. The silence that surrounded him was deafening after the cheers and celebration that had been taking place less than an hour ago. His team had gone to continue their celebrating elsewhere, and Oliver had elected to remain behind, and pack up his things.

He couldn’t believe he had really given all of this up, but he knew it would be worth it. Tomorrow he started his teaching post at Hogwarts, and he smiled again at the thought.

~*~

“Alright First Years,� Oliver said cheerfully, stepping in front of his first class, “step up to the left side of your broom and say ‘up!’� He smiled to himself, realising finally that this, teaching, was his greatest joy.

At long last Oliver Wood had discovered the worth of a player. It wasn’t the trophies, the wins, or the number of saves. Individual glory doesn’t define the worth of a player. It can only be defined by how much one can teach, and pass on to another. It wasn’t playing; it was teaching that defined the true worth of a player.