Chapter 16
Oliver had trained hard for the last few weeks. He’d barely missed a shot against the Chasers in practice, his team was encouraging with each other and Oliver as well as Charlie felt like they were shaping up to be a good team.
“Alright guys! Let’s pack it up for the morning, great job today!” Charlie yelled across the pitch.
Oliver sighed inwardly. The one thing they weren’t on the same page on always was how long they practiced. Oliver wanted to stay out as long as possible, but as Charlie kept reminding him, other houses booked the pitch for their teams as well.
Oliver joined the team, landing softly on the green Quidditch pitch. The crisp fall air was warmed by the sun on a rare day. Oliver didn’t think he’d ever tire of this. Just being on the pitch, surrounded by his team. A team he knew could do great things.
“I’ll see everybody tomorrow okay? First match of the season against Slytherin.” Charlie grinned at them all. “We can do it!”
Oliver grinned and followed the team to the showers listening to Fred and George laugh and joke with the girls. Oliver waited, until they had split off to their respective bathrooms and everyone had grabbed a shower stall before he started to sneak back out to the pitch.
“Going somewhere?” Charlie stood in the doorway, his eyebrow raised knowingly and arms crossed.
Oliver stared up at him defiantly, masking the guilt he felt. “Er…to the showers.”
Charlie wasn’t fooled. “Really? With your broom? Is that how you clean it, just bathe with it? I’ve heard of some crazy post game and practice rituals Ollie but seriously.” Charlie laughed quietly.
Oliver rolled his eyes. “I wanted to get more practice in.” He mumbled, not looking directly at Charlie.
Charlie sighed. “Oliver, you need to rest. It’s your first match ever. Shower, eat, rest up, you’ve got a big day tomorrow.”
Oliver laughed. “Yes, mom.” He teased him.
Charlie rolled his eyes. “Someone has to make sure you idiots do what you’re supposed to.”
Oliver laughed, and mocked a salute. “Yes, Captain!”
Charlie gently nudged him back into the bathroom with a laugh. “Go on, finish up here and eat like I said.”
Oliver finally went to the bathroom, changed and showered before heading back up to the castle. He was honestly starving. Lunch had been hours ago followed by a long Herbology class in the greenhouses, then Quidditch practice. Not that Oliver would dare complain, it was only his second year at Hogwarts and he was the Keeper of his house team and they were going to win tomorrow.
His thoughts were interrupted by a hard shove on his shoulder. “See you on the pitch tomorrow.” A dark haired Slytherin boy smirked at him, his friends laughing next to him as they passed Oliver in the corridor.
“What the…?” Oliver blinked, he couldn’t place the guy, he was in the same year as Oliver for sure, he’d seen him in class but couldn’t place the name.
Oliver shook his head and continued to the library. He still had a little time before dinner that he could devote to research. Oliver had taken to scouring the school for any trace of his father’s name since finding it out. With his very limited spare time that is. Oliver would not crack under the pressure of balancing classes, Quidditch, and his own endeavors. Hell, he was doing fine without his mother’s incessant nagging in his ear.
Not for her lack of trying.
Oliver’s mother had sent him plenty of letters wanting to know how practices were going, if he was training hard, and when the first match was. Oliver had replied with as little information as possible, skillfully avoiding telling his mother when the match was. He was worried she’d be anxiously awaiting his response to tell her the results, or worse.
Oliver wandered through the endless shelves, grabbing books on the known wizarding families, hoping to find even a trace of his father, or anyone on his father’s side of the family. So far, it had yielded no results, but Oliver was nothing if not determined. He took a seat at one of the tables, rifling through the stacks of books quietly. The library was mostly deserted on a late Friday afternoon, Madam Pince prowling the shelves keeping one eye on Oliver. Although Oliver had always kept quiet in the library, Madam Pince had even given him a rare kind smile a couple of times.
Oliver was flipping through his fourth book, when footsteps approached the table he was sitting at.
“Ollie.” Charlie said quietly, “It’s just about time for dinner, and we couldn’t find you in the common room.”
Oliver blinked, adjusting his eyes as he looked up at Charlie. He looked like his normal, confident self, it was unnerving sometimes how…put together Charlie seemed. Bill was similar. The eldest Weasley boy was quiet, calm, and seemed to always have his shit together. Even now, during his O.W.L year Bill didn’t seem so stressed. Then again, that may change as the year really begins.
“How’d you know I’d be here?” Oliver asked.
Charlie smiled down at him. “I do know you a little bit Ollie. You’re not one to let things go easily. Any free time you’ve had you’ve been in here looking for your father.”
Oliver wasn’t sure if Charlie had meant it, but his tone was sounding a little condescending. It was irritating. “Yes, well, not all of us can be as put together as you and your family. Some of us weren’t so lucky.” Oliver grumbled, turning back to the books on his table.
“Hey, whoa, that isn’t at all what I meant. I think it’s great that you want to know where you came from. You’re right, I am lucky to have a family like mine. In other ways we’re not so lucky. Not a ton of money, hand me downs, hell poor Ron and Ginny are going to have a mess of used things by the time they get to Hogwarts. I just meant…it's admirable dedicating so much time to something that’s important to you. Especially if it’s something other than Quidditch.” Charlie said firmly.
Oliver blinked before laughing harshly. “You were doing great there for a minute Charlie, until you shit all over me at the end.”
Charlie sighed. “I wasn’t…I didn’t mean. Look, there are other things besides Quidditch and I just meant I’m happy you’re focusing on something else.”
Oliver’s shoulders sagged. Maybe Charlie didn’t know him as well as he thought. Quidditch was everything to Oliver. Yes, finding his father was important, but it wasn’t Quidditch. “Let’s go to dinner.” Oliver said firmly, closing the books around him.
Together, Oliver and Charlie returned the books to their rightful places, and headed to the Great Hall without speaking. Charlie went to go sit near Bill, while Oliver sat across from Katie and Alicia, next to Fred.
“There you are, Wood! We were looking everywhere for you!” Katie said.
“Right, sorry. Library, trying to get ahead on homework before the match tomorrow.” Oliver said, before shoveling food into his mouth.
“Homework?! I wish I had your work ethic mate.” Fred said, but he was grinning joyfully.
Oliver rolled his eyes. “You just have to focus Fred.”
Fred laughed. “I am focused Oliver, just not on school.”
Alicia laughed, shaking her head in disbelief.
The three Chasers were surprisingly good for being only first years, and they fit right in with the rest of the team. Oliver grinned at her, before looking up at the ceiling as the owls descended. There were only a few as it was dinner time, but Oliver was surprised to see one land in front of him. It held out its leg, and Oliver plucked the envelope from it, surprised his mother was writing to him.
He opened it, and stared down at the short message, feeling a heavy weight of dread begin to sit in his full stomach.
‘I’ll see you tomorrow. I’ll be on the stands for your first game. Do not disappoint me Oliver.’
“Alright Oliver?” Fred asked alarmingly.
Oliver nodded, jumping up from his seat and walking quickly out of the Great Hall. He could barely catch his breath, it was practically coming in gasps. Oliver blindly walked up the stairs to the common room, and ran up into the dormitory. He curled up on his bed in a ball, and tried not to think about the match tomorrow.
The match, which had seemed so exciting only a few hours ago, now loomed like a dark pit before him. He couldn’t upset her, he couldn’t fail her. He wasn’t sure how, but he had to be perfect.
Oliver’s breathing evened out, and he fell into a fitful sleep.