Chapter 12
Oliver sat quietly, listening to Dumbledore’s welcome speech to the new first years. He made it. He was back at Hogwarts for his second year. He shifted uncomfortably on the bench, trying not to wince at the pain his new bruises gave him. His mother had continued the crazy training right up until late last night. It had only gotten worse after Charlie had tried to sneak in.
Oliver had continued to distance himself, even on the train ride here and all throughout dinner. Fred and George had tried to get him to sit with them, but Oliver had ignored their glances, shouts, and waving arms.
He should’ve been awarded some house points for that. It had not been easy ignoring the twins.
He was pulled out of his thoughts by the three first year girls that sat around him. They had been chatting excitedly to each other and now stared at him expectantly. “Sorry, what?” Oliver asked them, startled.
“Your name? We felt bad excluding you when you’re right here.” First Year Girl Number One said.
“We were just saying how excited we were for Quidditch tryouts and wondered if you knew when they were going to be held?” First Year Girl Number Two asked.
“You guys, let’s let him answer first, Merlin's Beard.” First Year Girl Number Three said.
Oliver blinked, feeling like he had whiplash. “Er..I’m Oliver Wood. Tryouts are usually in a week or so, I know the team is looking to fill out most of the positions I think.”
Actually, Oliver was pretty sure Charlie was the only one left. One of the youngest captains of the Gryffindor Quidditch Team in a long time. Granted, he was the only one left, so how hard of an achievement was it really? Oliver thought bitterly.
He blinked at the three girls. “Sorry, your names?”
“Katie Bell.” First Year Girl Num- Katie replied with a smile, before taking a sip from her goblet.
“Angelina Johnson.” The second girl responded, extending her hand across the table for Oliver to shake.
“Alicia Spinnet.” The last girl smiled where she sat next to Oliver. “Are you going to be trying out then?”
Oliver took a bite of dinner, and a drink from his goblet before responding. “Yeah. Going out for Keeper. What about you three?”
“Chaser.” They responded in almost unison.
Oliver smiled at them. They seemed so happy and carefree. Oliver felt older than twelve at that moment. Sure he was excited about Quidditch…he thought. But he was more worried about how much worse his mother could possibly get if he didn’t make the team this year.
Oliver continued to chat with the three girls throughout dinner, and ignored Charlie’s glances from daughter down the table. He still hadn’t received any letters from his neighbors that summer. Maybe they didn’t care about him as much as he thought.
‘Or your Mother was intercepting them.’ A small voice said in his head.
Oliver hadn’t been able to shake that voice all summer. Despite his mother insisting that she wasn’t. It’s not like Oliver had been able to find any proof otherwise. He didn’t have an owl either, so he couldn’t even be the one to reach out.
Oliver followed the Gryffindors up to the common room, led by Bill Weasley, his thoughts still buzzing. He just wanted to crawl into his bed and sleep. His mother had kept him up often late into the night, making it more difficult for Oliver to complete his summer work for school. He should’ve known it wouldn’t be that easy.
“Oi! Oliver, what’s with the silent treatment?” Fred exclaimed, as soon as Oliver entered their dormitory.
“Why didn’t you respond to our letters mate?” George added.
They didn’t seem angry with Oliver. They just seemed confused. Which, angered Oliver. They needed to stop the act. They knew they didn’t send him any letters, it was ridiculous.
“There weren’t any letters you prats. Just let me go to sleep.” Oliver started toward his bed, thankful that Lee hadn’t made it up yet to witness the awkwardness.
“We tried to send you loads of them! You never responded! Did you even read them?!” Fred asked indignantly.
“There weren’t any letters!” Oliver shouted. “Stop pretending you care about me and let me go to sleep.”
Oliver turned away from their shocked expressions, pulled out his pajamas, and drew the curtains around his bed. He didn’t want them to see the bruises. The faded burn marks. He tried to ignore the voice in his head again.
‘Why would they be lying? Who lies more? The Weasley’s who have shown you nothing but kindness….or your mother?’ It said mockingly.
Oliver listened to whispers outside of his drawn curtains, and his mind wandered back to Charlie, as it often did. Oliver had successfully avoided the elder Weasley, or had Charlie just known to keep his distance?
Oliver snorted to himself. It wasn’t like any of the Weasley’s to listen to anything anyone told them. They were annoying like that.
Oliver did want to talk to Charlie. He did want to talk to Fred and George too. He did miss them. But, it was easier to be angry. It always was.
Oliver woke up the next morning, and changed into his school robes quickly. Lee, Fred, and George were all still asleep in their four poster beds. Oliver breathed a sigh of relief. He was too tired for a fight this early in the morning. Granted, he had slept better than he had all summer.
He rolled his neck from side to side, hearing a satisfying popping noise as he entered the common room.
“Someone’s up early.” Charlie’s voice said from a chair near the fire.
Oliver nearly jumped out of skin. “What the hell Charlie?! Why are you up so bloody early?!”
Charlie rolled his eyes and stood up. “So, he speaks. My first class is Care of Magical Creatures, and we’re hiking nearby the school to see some Diricawl’s if you really need to know.”
Oliver hadn’t the faintest idea what a Diricawl was and, really, he didn’t want to know. “Well, guess you’d better get moving then.”
Charlie crosses his arms over his chest. At only fourteen he was already likely to be the tallest of his brothers, and the strongest. “Not until you give me an explanation.”
Oliver played dumb. “For what? Why I’m up so early? Maybe I had some summer work to catch up on.”
Charlie snorted. “You know that’s not what I mean. I want to know if you’re okay, and if your mother was stopping you from responding to our letters, and from coming to see us all summer.”
Oliver laughed harshly. “Your family just loves to blame my mother. I guess that’s more convenient than actually telling the truth.”
Charlie stepped toward him, and oh was he angry. “I get you were raised by a master manipulator Oliver. But don’t try to pull that shit on me or my brothers. Can’t you see she prevented you from having any contact with us. Hell, with the outside world all summer? I’m surprised you were able to do anything but fly your broom.”
Oliver couldn’t take it. He looked down at the floor. “Stop it. Just Stop. You don’t have any idea-”
“Then tell me.” Charlie said bluntly. “Tell me whenever you’re ready too. Tell someone Oliver. You can’t go on being this lonely and abused. It’s not good for you.”
Oliver took a step away from Charlie, and looked up into his eyes. They were a stormy blue. “I’m not abused.”
Oliver brushed past him and headed through the portrait hole. He needed to go to the Quidditch pitch.
Now…
“Oliver. You know Charlie was right?” His therapist asked him quietly.
Oliver stood at the window, looking out into the snowy day. “I….”
“Oliver.” His therapist said, firmly but not unkindly.
“I know that now..I think. I just didn’t know it back then.” Oliver responded quietly.