Chapter 4
Chapter 4
Now…
“Anger was always a reflex emotion for me.” Oliver told his therapist.
“What do you mean by that?”
Oliver shrugged. “I guess…eventually it just became a safe response? Instead of fear, sadness or being lonely.”
“When did this start?” His therapist glanced at him curiously.
Oliver sighed. “Fairly soon after I got to Hogwarts oddly enough.”
“But didn’t you say you also felt safe there?”
“Yes. I was safe there. But, I was still able to be reached. By her.”
Then…
Oliver’s first week of classes had been a blur. He tried his best to pay attention in his classes, but he was really more worried about Quidditch try-outs. Those would start today, the second week of term.
Oliver followed his fellow Gryffindors of varying ages out to the Quidditch pitch. Oliver held his broom on his shoulder confidently, ignoring the questioning stares from some of the older students. They seemed to be asking who was this kid? This first year really can’t think he’s going to make the team? The answer was yes. Yes, Oliver was going to make the team. He had trained for this. He was better than all of them. Oliver wasn’t always the most confident when it came to his classes so far, but he was a confident Keeper. He could stop anything anyone could throw at him.
FInally, Oliver and the others assembled in front of the current Quidditch team. Oliver grinned at Charlie, who stared back at him quizzically. He tried to mouth a question at Oliver, but Oliver turned his attention back to the captain.
“Alright let’s see what you’ve all got. There’s only a few positions open this year so be sure to impress me.” He winked at them mischievously.
Oliver flew through their drills, making sure to listen to the instructions precisely. This was easy, none of these drills compared to the ones his mother made him do. Plus, the weather was great. An oddly sunny fall day, barely a chill in the air. Perfect conditions for flying.
“Alright, let's get the Quaffle out and we can start the Chaser tryouts. There’s only one spot on the team this year so it’ll be a tough choice.” The captain told them.
Oliver nearly fell off his broom. Only one spot? For…a Chaser? What about Keepers? Or Beaters? That’s when he realized that the only thing he even knew about Gryffindor’s current Quidditch team was that Charlie was the Seeker.
Oliver was surprised he could speak. “What…what about Keeper tryouts?” He asked the captain weakly.
The captain flew closer to him. He smiled kindly, a little too nicely in Oliver’s opinion. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you didn’t know. I’m the Gryffindor Keeper. It’s my last year though, so maybe next year, yeah?”
Oliver watched, floating there stupidly as everyone else continued to soar higher; passing the Quaffle back and forth.
Oliver was…pissed. At himself, at the captain, at Charlie, Fred, and George, for not telling him. He was scared too, of what his mother would have to say about it. He flew back down to the ground, trying not to show the anger on his face, the tears of frustration welling up in his eyes.
As Oliver was walking toward the locker rooms he felt a hand on his shoulder. He spun around violently and stared back at Charlie Weasley’s concerned face. Eyebrows furrowed, blue eyes asking a question: What’s wrong?
“What?” Oliver snapped at him.
“Ollie…it's not the end of the world. You’re still a first year and besides it’ll just be me and a Chaser left next year. You can be the Keeper next year.” Charlie smiled tentatively at him, as if saying this was some sort of gracious favor he’d be doing next year.
“No. I wanted to be the Keeper this year. I had to!” Oliver yelled back at him. “You’re right. I will be the Keeper next year. It won’t be because you decided to just hand it to me either! It’ll be because I’m the best one out on that pitch!” Oliver couldn’t really see Charlie’s face at that point. His angry tears were starting to fall down his face.
“That’s not what I mea-” Charlie started to say.
“Why didn’t you tell me? Before I went and looked like an idiot?! Before they all thought I was just a stupid first year that wandered onto the pitch like a lost puppy?” Oliver was on a roll now. He needed to stop before he said something stupid.
“Ollie I didn’t even know you were planning on trying out this year. I would’ve told you if I’d known.” Charlie said, he was being scarily calm.
Oliver didn’t want calm, or reasonable. He wanted to fight. For once, he was the one doing the yelling. He was the one feeling disappointed. He had the power here. “Don’t call me that. You have no idea how much that this meant to me. So just fuck off Charlie.”
Charlie flinched slightly. Oliver felt a twinge of satisfaction that he had upset him. “Look, you’re right, I don’t know what this means to you, but I can help you deal with your anger.”
Oliver snorted. “Great Charlie, you do that for me. Want to deal with the shitstorm my mother will release while you’re at it? She’s going to be livid and I have no idea what she’s going to do without me being there as her little punching bag.” Oliver wiped his eyes frustratedly. Great, now he’d probably said too much.
Charlie’s gaze sharpened. “What does that mean, Oliver?”
Oliver looked down at the ground. He hadn’t called him Ollie. “Nothing.” He told Charlie defiantly, looking back up into his blue eyes. They looked darker, more like a dark storming ocean color than their normal happy sky blue.
Charlie sighed. “Look, I’m going to go talk to the captain, and then I’m going to help you.”
Oliver glared at him again. “I said no favors Charlie.”
“It has nothing to do with Quidditch. I need to see if I can leave tryouts to help you. So, maybe try being less of an ass.”
‘Finally.’ Oliver thought. He finally got the reaction he wanted. Granted, Charlie wasn’t pissed like Oliver wanted him to be, but he was at least frustrated.
Oliver stood there stupidly, fuming, as he watched Charlie exchange a few words with the Captain. After a few minutes, Charlie returned, walking toward Oliver with his broom in his hand.
“Come on.” Charlie told him.
“Where are we going?” Oliver asked him suspiciously. His anger turning to curiosity.
Charlie turned and gave Oliver a quick grin. “You’ll see grump ass.”
Oliver rolled his eyes and followed Charlie’s lead, mounting his broom. They flew up, higher and higher, away from the castle, away from the Quidditch pitch, and toward the Forbidden Forest.
Oliver felt nervous. Was Charlie leading him into the forest? Once they were away from the pitch, Charlie led them higher into the sky and a few moments later hovered above the trees of the Forbidden Forest.
“Scream.” Charlie told him.
Oliver stared at him dumbly. “What?”
“Scream. Yell. Whatever you need to do to let the anger out.” Charlie told him calmly.
Oliver felt more confused than angry at the moment, but he listened anyway. He yelled into the air. His voice filled with rage. Anger. Frustration. Fear.
“Better?” Charlie asked him, still as calm as a bubbling potion.
“A little, yeah.” Oliver admitted begrudgingly.
“Good. It always helps me when I’m feeling angry.” Charlie told him.
“How often do you come out here? How do you get out here?” Oliver asked him.
Charlie grinned mischievously. “I have my ways, Ollie.” He sighed. “You’re not the only one who has parents with…expectations for them either. Everyone’s got problems. Sometimes you just need to let it all out.”
Oliver wondered if Charlie’s sneaking around had anything to do with how little Fred and George regarded the rules. It was only the second week of term and they had already had detention three times. Thankfully, Oliver had been too focused to get drawn into their schemes.
“I’m sorry for how I reacted. I just…was surprised.” Oliver said lamely.
Charlie nodded. “I get it. Just think though, we can play together next year. Besides, it's your first year here. Enjoy it, study hard. Do whatever you can to have fun.”
Oliver nodded. He still wondered in the back of his mind how he was going to tell his mother. How she would react. Charlie shook him out of these thoughts.
“We’d better head back before we get caught.”
Oliver flew back towards the grounds, trying to pass Charlie. They were racing to see who could make it back first, and for the first time that afternoon, Oliver wasn’t angry. Or worried. Or scared. He just was.