Chapter 25
Christmas morning arrived, but Oliver was doing his best to ignore it. This task proved difficult, as Hogwarts castle was practically oozing Christmas spirit. Between the decorations beautifully filling the common room and corridors thanks to the house elves, the presents under the small tree in the common room, and the snowy weather making the grounds look like a magical winter wonderland, Oliver was failing to pretend that it was not, in fact, a holiday.
He couldn’t help but smile when he saw the small gathering of gifts for himself under the tree. There were others there for the…three? Other Gryffindors that had stayed here for the holidays. Oliver wasn’t completely positive of the number that were still here, but Gryffindor Tower had never been so deserted, nor had it felt so devoid of the manic energy that was usually filling it. He felt a pang of something akin to homesickness as he opened the first package, a sweater with a large letter ‘O’ in the center hand knit by Mrs Weasley.
Oliver was missing the Weasley’s more than he thought. But, he knew he was right to stay and train while the pitch was so free. It was also an easy excuse to avoid avoiding Charlie, or worse having to make polite conversation in front of everyone. The only ones who seemed to notice something was off were Fred and George. Oliver smiled to himself, wondering what sort of mischief the two of them were getting into.
He continued opening the small pile of gifts. There was a new quill and ink set from Bill, chocolate frogs and Bertie Bott’s Beans from the twins, and Charlie had gotten him Keeper’s gloves.
Oliver blinked, surprised, wondering what Charlie was thinking. Then, a note fluttered out of the packaging explaining exactly that.
Ollie,
I’m sorry things have been strange between us, I don’t know what I did or didn’t do to upset you but I’m really sorry. I hope these will help during practice and matches. They’re better than your old ones, trust me, I charmed them with a warming spell myself. I hope you enjoy your Christmas, and hope we can talk when I get back.
Happy Christmas,
- Charlie
Oliver tightened his grip on the gloves. Charlie got him this very thoughtful, wonderful gift, and what had Oliver sent home to everyone at the Weasley’s? Candy that he had scrounged for, chocolate frogs, and licorice wands, and Bertie Bott’s beans. A hot wave of shame rolled over him, and he promised himself he would do better.
The final gift had a note attached to it, this time from his mother.
Oliver,
Hoping this helps keep that broom of yours in good shape. A good Quidditch player always keeps his broom in the best condition. I will see you at the end of term. Do not disappoint.
- Your Mother
Oliver opened the gift, unsurprised to find a broom cleaning kit. It was something his mother got him every year for Christmas. This year, it was the only thing she got him. Oliver stared down at the note again, a hot rage fighting its way into his body. She didn’t even bother asking how he was, or even allude to the fact that she may have missed him while he wasn’t home, Or even put ‘Love Mum” or something at the end of the bloody note!
Oliver laughed bitterly, “Yeah, thanks Mum, love you too. Happy bloody Christmas,” He muttered to himself, as he gathered his gifts and stomped his way back up to the dormitory to deposit his gifts. He changed into a comfortable pair of jeans, and pulled his new sweater over his head.
It was warm and comforting, almost like the hug Mrs Weasley gave. Oliver wondered if she could’ve spelled it to feel that way or if her knitting was just that good.
Before leaving the dormitory, he grabbed some of the candy he got, wondering if Flint would want any. Oliver was surprised at the thought. Flint came from a well of pureblood family, surely he would scoff at Oliver attempting to share his Christmas candy with him.
Oliver walked down to the nearly deserted corridor, replying to the ghosts and portraits Christmas greetings as he went to the Great Hall.
Oliver stood outside the Great Hall, a small gathering of students around him and looked into the room in surprise.
“Welcome everyone!” Dumbledore’s voice echoed around the hall. “A very Happy Christmas to you all! Since there are so few of us I thought we could all sit at one table together for the holiday!”
Oliver filed in with the other students and noticed that Dumbledore was right. For Gryffindors there was himself and the three older students he didn’t know, two Ravenclaws, four Hufflepuffs and bringing up the rear was…
“Flint?! Is it just you for Slytherins?” Oliver slowed his pace so he walked next to him.
Flint grinned at him, his eyes filled with humor. “Yeah, just me all by myself in the Slytherin common room. It feels like the whole place is mine!”
‘Sounds awfully lonely to me,’ Oliver thought to himself, suddenly grateful to the few Gryffindors that were with him in the tower.
“Look at you showing off your Christmas gifts,” Flint teased him as they took their seats side by side, nodding at the sweater Oliver wore.
Oliver grinned sheepishly, “It’s from my friend's mum. Besides I’m sure you got loads of things for the holiday. I bet you’re dying to show off.”
Flint’s grin faltered for a moment, before he started filling up his plate with breakfast. “Err.. actually my dad doesn’t really do holidays. He’s…too busy you know? He says it’s too frivolous anyhow and that I’m lucky to get things on my birthday.”
The more Oliver learned about Flint’s family, the more angry he felt. Which was odd because it’s not like he and Flint were friends….or were they becoming friends? It wasn’t something Oliver had necessarily discussed with Flint. Perhaps he should?
“Well, Happy Christmas, I have some extra candy for you,” Oliver said with a small smile, handing over a few chocolate frogs.
Flint’s eyes lit up once again. “Thanks Wood! I love collecting the cards. Another useless pastime my father says. Happy Christmas to you too. I didn't get you anything…how about I help you practice after breakfast?”
Oliver grinned back at him. “You just try and get a Quaffle past me, Flint.”
Flint snorted, “I’m sure I will, Wood. Thanks again…you’re a good friend.”
Oliver tucked into his breakfast, surprised at how easily that was settled. He gained a new friend.
Now…
“Do you need a moment?” His therapist asked, nudging the box of tissues a little closer to him across the table. “If it’s too hard to talk about we can…come back to it another time.”
Oliver shook his head, silently holding back the tears in his brown eyes. “No, no, I want to talk about it,” He choked out. “That’s why I’m here isn’t it? To get some help with…well, everything?”
“We only have to talk about what you want to talk about, Oliver. But, if you want to do this, then I suggest we take a short break okay?”
“Okay,” Oliver said quietly, before grabbing a tissue and standing up to stretch.