Chapter 1
It started as a self-dare, if you will. And Oliver was hungry, so could you truly blame him?
Sneaking into Hogwarts in the middle of the afternoon, to snag some food he knows they have too much of wouldn’t actually hurt anyone, right? Maybe the robe that he stole from a distracted kid would, or the branch he snapped off a tree to make a makeshift wand would. The stick didn’t even work, because apparently waving a piece of bark around does not replicate a magical object that well, but it was good enough to fool every single student he passed.
He knew enough about Hogwarts, mostly because his friends would talk about it, since they were all going to attend together, each waiting for the day everyone's letters arrived. Unfortunately, Oliver was still waiting for his letter. He hoped they got in, mostly his old friend Jackson, who would hate that he’s addressing him by his first name.
Oliver could still hear his nagging voice, cutting him off every time he called him by Jackson– much less Jackie, which he hated more,“It’s Thompson, how many times do I have to tell you? My family name is a weapon to be feared.” Everyone knew he would follow his family house, Slytherin. To be fair, he would be an amazing slytherin, probably the best of them all. He already had a knack for magic, something he would constantly brag about.
Oliver’s parents didn’t like Jackson’s attitude, but appreciated the company he gave. Both his parents were powerful wizards, they met at the ministry of magic. Even though he never liked to brag, his family name was one to be feared as well. If you needed help, they were the ones to call. Always on standby, ready to help anyone, no matter the cost. Unfortunately, as time had him currently, his parents were six feet under due to those very mentailities and he could only assume his friends made it to Hogwarts.
Oliver didn’t want to think about running into them here, so he kept his head down. The mere thought of anyone who once knew him seeing the complete mess he’d become over years since the incident would surely not be a comforting sight for anyone.
Luckily, no one seemed to glance twice at him, as he walked around the school, attempting to find the dining hall. His stomach was practically eating itself, it was a horrible pain that he couldn’t wait to get rid of.
He was 13 now so he’d be a 3rd year if ever got his letter, but as of now the country probably has him labeled as dead, so it didn't matter.
He eventually found the dining hall, its walls full of loud students, so he followed suit, blending in with the crowd, as he found the closest table and sat far away from any students. He was sweating bullets. Was he not obviously an outlier in his dining hall? Everyone’s eyes must be laying on him, because a random student sitting down alone must cause attention.
Despite his fears, his eyes laid down on the empty plate in front of him, before looking around to see plates full of an assortment of food. Maybe they bring you food? He didn’t know how this worked, but he’d kill for some kind of chicken.
As soon as the thought filled his mind, a rotisserie chicken appeared on his plate. He held back from slapping himself, because, duh, of course it would just appear. This is a magic school, after all. Without hesitation , he dug into the warm chicken, only stopping to breathe. He hadn’t eaten this good in what seemed like forever.
As soon as he finished, he wanted some carbs, only thinking about warm bread as it appeared on his plate. He should’ve brought a bag, but he didn’t want to seem too obvious. Thankfully no one sat down near him as he tore into the food until he physically could not take another bite.
He still had bread on the plate and he wished he remembered the spell to teleport certain items, so as he left the plate, only a few bread pieces stuffed into his pocket he made his way out. Gaining the look of no one, not even a teacher he seemed to pass.
Before he made it out, his eyes settled on a Slytherin girl who walked away from her bag. Her laugh echoed across the hall and he saw her open bag, a number of pins on display as his eyes landed on her textbook. How could he resist?
Alas this routine kept going on, because he would only return when the pain from starvation became unbearable. The gates always welcomed him despite how guilty he felt whenever he snagged any stray textbooks or objects. Although he eventually returned them, the overwhelming feeling of his deeds struck deep within his bones.
He almost felt bad, since he was taking more than food. But it started tame, in his defense, with a textbook, or paper, or even a quill. Soon he acquired a scarf from every house and gossip from passing students— surprisingly Ravenclaw had most of them. Who knew they were so talkative? If you wanted to know something, they most likely knew. Oliver absorbed everything he could figure out like a sponge and he found himself wanting to know it all. A muggle-born even snuck in their Nintendo, which he took it until it died— luckily, he knew the boy was Hufflepuff so he dropped it off in the common room. He once tried stealing a wand that a student dropped without noticing but hid it under a desk after it nearly exploded when he simply waved it. Guess a wand really does choose its user.
Who knew that the passwords of each common room were so simple, although Ravenclaw had both a password and a question, so they could argue that they at least tried. He tended to avoid the Ravenclaw common-room when he could, everyone thought it would fit him when he was younger and seeing a glimpse of what his life could’ve been when he steps in there becomes too much. The other common rooms were plenty entertaining, especially Slytherin; its dark and gloomy atmosphere made it easy to sneak in and out.
When he wore the respective scarf the paintings didn’t give him a second glance, he was a dirt looking kid with a gryffindor scarf, would you try and stop him? Of course not.
But the fun had to come to an end eventually.
“Excuse me, young man. I don’t recall you around these parts.” He looked over to find a short man gazing upon him with a certain look on his face. And while looking down, he found he had the Ravenclaw scarf on and cursed himself for wearing it today.
“Huh?” Is what he left it at, because a confused student he can play.
“You’re RavenClaw. But I don’t recall ever seeing your face until today.” He knew what the short man was trying to do and he wasn’t going to let him win.
“Oh,” he laughed slightly, and the shorter one only stared, “I’m not- my,” he turned his head away, before taking a deep breath as he gave the giddiest smile he could give— like ones he’d seen on girls when they talk about their crushes, “we just started dating, it’s theirs. We were going to meet up, I’m waiting for them.” He let himself start kicking the ground, and when he looked back at the other it was a friendly smile. It was almost too easy.
“I know it's confusing, but it’s a really nice color for me. I’ll go back to my room, I’ll send them an owl later, they probably got caught up studying or something.” Oliver hoped he didn’t notice that he was lying through his teeth.
After a second of standing there smiling, he waved bye before turning around, moving to book it out of the building as soon as possible, “wait, young lad!” Shit.
Oliver turned back around, despite his better judgment and when they locked eyes the other asked, “may I have your name?”
He was far enough, that if he started running he could make it out. His mind went blank and he made his first mistake, “Oliver.” Then he made it out of the room before he could say anything else, he didn’t even stop for food, despite the obvious protest from his stomach.