Who knew fire was that hazardous?
For the record, he tried to stay away, but he could only re-read the same books so many times and his stomach yearned for a cooked meal. His dreams swarmed around the warmth Hogwarts gave him, a foreign feeling he hadn’t felt in a long time sat deep in his gut whenever he thought of those castle walls– a feeling of home.
He sought Hogwarts the next morning, a restless night causing the hunger in him to only get worse– the forest ground is less comfortable than it looks. Plus he needed a new book. He believed that he got the basics mastered, even though he didn’t possess a wand, magic flowed out of his being. His fake stick harbored no direction for his magic, but he still managed to cast “Wingardium Leviosa,” on a rock by pure will and a hearty flick of his wrist. As he walked into Hogwarts, he kept practicing the flick and swish with this stick and headed towards the dining hall.
His second mistake would be sitting at the slytherin table next, which in his defense was because it had less students sitting at it. He munched away at beef patties and stuffed enough bread rolls to last him a week, at best.
Then he heard it.
“Oi! The hell are you stuffing in your pockets?” A random voice rang through and he could only stare down at his half eaten plate as his body filled to the brim with fear. The voice, of course, didn’t appreciate the silence. The boy’s voice boomed over Oliver, “Oi! Are ya’ gonna answer my question or stand there like a lily-livered coward?!” Oliver furrowed his eyebrows while remaining in place, because a ‘lily-livered coward’ was an insult he never thought would be shouted towards him, ever. But contemplating the vocabulary of the boy ended rather quickly when a strong grip latched onto his shoulder.
Panic flooded down every nerve. He did not want this boy addressing him, much less grabbing him anymore. It all happened too fast as he shot up out of the chair and slapped his hand onto the boy’s chest. In a mere second, the boy who gripped his shoulder was thrown across the floor, only a couple of feet away, while the edges of his Slytherin scarf held a flame. The spell, “Confringo” spilled from his lips instinctively, while his heart banged in his ears like a loud drum that silenced the boy’s shouts as he patted out the fire.
All eyes in the dining hall were on him. He cursed himself for coming during lunch; he should’ve waited until the tables died out more. But it didn’t matter and Oliver stood in shock while students gathered around the slytherin boy to see if he was alright.
Seeing a teacher in his peripheral vision had snapped him out of whatever trance he was in and he was booking it, making sure to snag some more bread rolls from his plate as he sprinted through the busy halls. Oliver didn’t stop running until he found an empty hallway. No matter how many deep breaths he took, his heart continued its thump against his chest and his fingers tightened on his robe over his chest, willing his nerves to calm down.
Luckily no one followed him and after walking around he managed to find a nicely lit corner, relief flooding his system and he took a seat while finishing his remaining bread rolls. Frustration flooded his system as his eyes stung, because of course he had to cause a scene. Of course a student would start yelling at him and as expected he lashed out and set him on fire. Tears leaked down his face, tainting the fluffy bread in his hands.
After crying for a bit he rose up and headed to find an exit. After two turns, the outside wind met his face. His fingers grazed the sides of the castle as he silently thanked it, as if it could hear his thoughts. But he truly appreciated the castle, it always helped him when he needed it. It seemed silly to say a castle cared about him, but its walls were the only welcoming thing he’s encountered in years.
Its kindness echoed his old friends, cold detailed walls somehow mirrored warm embraces and sweet words. As he made his way back into the forest he thought back to an old friend that Jackson introduced him to, Hayley, who always said the right words, no matter what. Jackson would sometimes be in a bad mood, probably due to his parents, and would often say hurtful stuff towards them. Hayley never took it personally and would be patient with him. Their families had a deep history, which gave her years and years of time to learn how he worked. And just as she said, Jackson always ended up apologized and Hayley never failed to accept. Oliver missed her a lot too, from the way her persistent attitude was always handled with care for her friends. Did they miss him like he missed them? He halted all thoughts as the pit in his stomach sunk deep in his gut, manifesting into something he didn’t want to handle right now.
The forest welcomed him back with coldness that seeped in his bones and scary noises that he learned to avoid. The next day, when the sun finally broke through the trees, he attempted to freshen up in the lake and wash his clothes, but frankly no soap can do him so good. He didn’t want to go back to the streets of the muggle city, but he needed to freshen up or he’d stick out like a sore thumb. So he headed towards the castle with a plan for a proper shower.
He came up to the Hufflepuff picture frame and whispered its password, ignoring all the people around, before walking in– if he acted natural, no one would notice. Before heading towards the boy’s area, he snagged a stray portable shower caddy hanging outside a girl's door. His choices were limited and he wanted to put actual products in his hair. As he walked through the shower room he snagged up some folded clothes that lay folded on a shelf and a towel on a stall before going to a shower in the corner. He rushed through all the motions but took such delight with each product the caddy had. He didn't know who this girl was, but was so happy in her choices for shampoo and conditioner– his hair had never felt so silky soft. After finishing up, he hung the towel back where he found it and discarded his old clothes in a corner. He kept his pace unhurried as he left the shower room, hoping no one saw his actions.
He made it back out of the common room with no fuss, even though his hair was still dripping slightly, leaving wet patches on his robe. It was until he stepped out into the hall when the painting closed behind him and a relatively loud voice filled the silent air.
“My word, you seem to be in quite a hurry. Now where could you be heading with your hair still dripping?” He shot his head towards a nice looking woman, her gray hair seemed to poof out of her hat as she raised her eyebrows in decry towards his dripping curls. Oliver only stood with his mouth agape, any and all words failing him at the moment. After a couple seconds of silence she cleared her throat while crossing her arms.
“They’re waiting.” She blinked down at him, her eyes squinting as he continued, “My, my friends are waiting for me,” he was desperately trying to sound confident with each sentence he said towards her, “they saved me some desert. I wanted to meet them quickly.” It was the best he could manage and he hoped she believed him, but her eyes furrowed as she scanned him up and down, she hummed before speaking, “Are you now?” Her mouth clicked, “what year are you in? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you at all.”
His heart dropped to his stomach as he answered quickly, “Third.” It came out slightly strained and his feet were moving away as he waved a small bye while speed walking out of the hall. Panic spread through his entire body and he urged himself to move faster, not bothering to look back as he desperately tried to find an exit.
She knew that he was lying and he had to get out. Luckily he found an exit and ran towards the forest. Dark marks of eyes seemed to watch him until he faded too deeply in the forest for them to follow. It took a while of mindlessly walking for his heart to finally calm down.
Well, there goes his food resource. But he couldn’t get too mad, since it was bound to happen. The chefs find the rat eventually. So he stuffed everything into his backpack, which consisted of a textbook he had yet to switch out. He would have to make sure to get a good one that’ll last him a while. He’s been mostly grabbing spell books, maybe this time he’d grab a potion book. He laid underneath a cave-in with a leaf as a pillow, since he didn’t want to dirty up his freshly washed hair. Castle walls flooded his dreams.