Chapter 11
Chapter 11
That first summer home from Hogwarts was one of the worst summers Oliver had ever had. Day in and day out, rain or shine, his mother had him training. She had him doing outrageous things that wouldn’t even happen in Quidditch matches. She had constructed large obstacles that would pop up randomly as Oliver flew. Multiple Quaffles were flown toward the Keeper goals, and Oliver was expected to stop all of them.
“Faster!” His mother shouted below him.
Oliver didn’t respond, he knew that if he argued then his mother would simply shut him up. If that didn’t work, if he refused to do any of the training, she would hit him. Or cast stinging hexes on him. He had bruises and red marks on his arms from the abuse.
So, Oliver pushed and pushed, striving to please her. Never mind that he was barely allowed time to do his summer course work, and if he did it was in the dead of night while his mother slept peacefully down the hall.
“That’s enough for today Oliver.” His mother shouted from below. She sounded please, a rarity that had happened only a couple of times this summer. It was mid July, and Oliver tried not to think about how he hadn’t seen or heard from the Weasley’s at all.
His mind wandered to what they could’ve been up to as he descended back to the ground. Oliver had tried, and failed to sneak out and cross over the hill to go and see his friends. His mother wouldn’t allow it.
“I don’t want you near that family Oliver. They distract you enough as it is. I’m sure your grades suffered as well this year because of them.” His mother sniffed disdainfully.
Oliver had to resist the urge to point out that she hadn’t once mentioned his education before then. Never mind the fact that his grades had been some of the best in his year. His achievements in his classes had filled him with pride, but his mother ignored them all. Focused only on Quidditch.
Oliver trudged inside the house quietly, making sure not to track in any mud or dirt. Not that it mattered. Oliver was the only one who cleaned. His mother was barely home, either training him, or off in the world doing who knows what. For instance, instead of following him inside, his mother apparated without a word, or a time that she would return.
“No, that's fine, I can make my own food.” Oliver grumbled quietly now that his mother was gone.
Oliver changed out of his training clothes, showered quickly, and changed into more regular clothing. He rummaged through the kitchen, and managed to make himself a sandwich before climbing the stairs to his small room. He opened a window, letting a summer breeze drift into the stale house.
“Guess I should get this finished.” Oliver told himself. He had worked his way through most of his school work, and now all he had left was his Potions work. He almost wished Snape had assigned more work, it would give him something else to do this summer besides train and sulk in his own misery.
Oliver ignored the pain in his arm, a stinging spell from earlier from his mother. He picked up his quill and let the quiet scratching sound fill his room. He was so focused, he nearly screamed when a voice outside his window said “Oliver.”
Oliver jumped, nearly falling out of his chair and turned toward the open window, where Charlie Weasley stood, grinning at him. “What are you doing here?” Oliver hissed at him.
He wasn’t sure why he was whispering. His mother had left. She wasn’t home. Logically, he knew this but fear ruled his mind now. That, and annoyance. Why was Charlie showing up now?
Charlie climbed into his room, and Oliver became very aware of the amount of Quidditch posters on his walls, and his otherwise sparse room. Thankfully, his bedroom door was closed so Charlie wouldn’t see into the dim, dark, empty hallway. “I came to see you. You haven’t stopped by, and then you haven’t responded to any of our letters. We were all worried she’d packed you up and moved you or something.”
Oliver’s brain had to catch up with Charlie’s words. “Letters? What do you mean?”
Charlie stared at him like he had three heads for a moment. “We’ve been writing to you…but you haven’t responded.”
Oliver replied waspishly. “I haven’t gotten any letters Charlie. From any of you. I have work to do so if you could just go before my mother gets abc that would be great.”
Oliver felt a rush of anger at the hurt that he saw flash in Charlie’s eyes. “Ollie, I promise we’ve been trying to talk to you. You just haven’t responded. Unless…you really haven’t gotten anything. I bet it’s your mother hiding it from you.”
Oliver laughed harshly. “Please Charlie. I can assure you my mother has bigger things to worry about than stopping owl post.”
Charlie raised an eyebrow at him. “You’re really not going to believe me? Oliver that’s exactly something she would do. Don’t think I haven’t seen your bruises either. What has she been doing?”
Oliver ignored the small voice in his head that said Charlie might be right. He was too angry to care. He was angry at himself, at his mother, at Charlie, hell, even at his dead beat father for abandoning him here with his mother. “Charlie. Get. Out.” Oliver told him firmly.
Charlie took a step towards him. “I will if you do.”
Oliver stepped away. “Go. Before she comes home.” Oliver paused before adding “Please.”
Charlie gave him one more sad look, before retreating back out the window.
Oliver ignored the tears in his eyes and went to sit back at his desk. Before he could settle back into his course work, his bedroom door slammed open.
“I thought I told you to stay away from them.” His mother’s voice screeched.
Oliver turned to face her quickly. “I didn’t ask him to come! I got rid of him! I stayed here. They’re my friends!”
His mother laughed harshly. “You don’t need friends Oliver. They’re a distraction. You need to stay focused.”
Oliver felt brave for a moment. “You…you haven’t been keeping letters from me have you?”
His mother scoffed at him, but there was a flicker of something in her eyes. “Of course not Oliver, why would I do that?”
Oliver didn’t believe her. Had he really thought Charlie would lie to him? Suddenly, he didn’t have the strength to keep arguing. He felt utterly defeated. “I’m not sure. I’m sorry.”
Oliver’s mother rolled her eyes. “I should think so.” She turned and walked down the hallway, leaving Oliver in his room, where he cried silent tears onto his parchment.
Soon he thought. Soon I’ll be back at Hogwarts.