Don't be a stranger
Dear Perce,
Things aren't bad, after all, away from Hogwarts. My parents have yet to mention something that makes my insides go mushy, so I'm enjoying the peace and quiet. My parents don't do much, as a matter of fact, so it is a cozy holiday for us all. We watched some muggle Christmas movies, decorated the house, and threw some snowballs around for a couple of hours. My dad was all for keeping the game going for hours but my mother insisted that if we stayed in the cold for too long I would get too sick even to enjoy Christmas.
I did not tell her about the long hours I spent flying in the rain during these last months after the incident, she would absolutely freak out. Not that her whole monologue about health before I first attended Hogwarts didn’t freak me out (you try to listen to your own mother listing all the terrible ways you could die a gruesome death if you made one tiny bad decision.), but honestly, how much can a tad of flying truthfully hurt someone?
Dad knows, of course, I simply couldn’t keep it from him, too interested in discussing Quidditch with someone else (since Mistbone and Whittles are too busy talking about any other discussion topic, Sam even wrote me a short letter mentioning the health of his aunt’s rat. If the topic is of interest, you should write to him, it would be much appreciated, since when he tried talking about it with me, I have to admit to being slightly rude.), and the feeling of being on a broom for the first time. He was happy to talk about something with me, and, frankly, it made me feel somewhat guilty.
I haven’t mentioned my last months at school much or mentioned anything about me at all to any of them lately. What was I supposed to talk about? How much Snape sucks? The hours we spent on detention? How I flunked Minerva’s test? Or, oh, I dunno, perhaps how much I fly around and put myself in what my mother would certainly call unnecessary and avoidable dangerous situations.
So, yeah, haven’t talked much. Until now, that is.
Anyway, so my mother insisted on building a snowman, which in truth, I found a bit boring without magic. What is up with that, by the way? No magic out of the school? Utter bullshit, in my opinion. How am I supposed to do stuff?
And since we're on the topic of bullshit, it seems like you taught me some nasty habits with swearing. Mom isn't happy with it. She says I have a dirty mouth and that I should know better by now. It is all your fault, naturally. Don't worry, I didn't tell her that. Now I'm just meticulous around both of them, always thinking twice before saying anything, scared that something will slip out and I'll be grounded. (On Christmas! Imagine that.)
You'll probably be happy to know that, because of the shitty weather, I have been inside long enough to decide to start with the copious amount of homework we were assigned (before you mention anything about the way I’m writing, Mum said it is rude to write to someone else the way we speak, and, because of the weather and her constant eyes on me, I have been coerced to read the dictionary and write down the words I like. I wouldn’t bother to do it if Dad wasn’t offering me a pound for every word I taught him. Behind Mum’s back, obviously. None of us feels bad, though, it is evidently the best way to go through with the arrangement, seeing as it makes her happy to know that I’m learning, it makes me happy to be earning some money and it makes Dad happy that Mum is happy). I don't suppose our professors understand the meaning of holidays, and we should discuss that with the Ministry. Doesn't your father work there?
By the time I'm writing this, Andrew and Sam have bombarded me with so many letters that my mother started to get annoyed with the late-night owls appearing around the house. They're too stupid to understand the concept of time and place, I presume, because I have asked them to stop sending posts at midnight but it didn't seem to have any effect at all. (Or, more probably, Andrew and Sam keep insisting on sending them at the worst possible times just to bother me.)
Did they send you anything? I heard some pretty crazy stories coming from Mistbone, and I'm not sure if I believe a lot of them. He was talking on and on about a mysterious chamber that could be found in Hogwarts. Apparently, he heard about that from his father, but who can we trust nowadays?
How are things with you? Have you managed to finish each assignment yet? Do you so dearly wish to read - and correct - my Potions one? I'm sending it to you anyway.
Please send my love to all your family,
Your best of friends
Oliver Wood.
Oliver,
No, I did not wish to correct your Potions assignment, and I simply did it because I managed to find a quiet afternoon in which my mother and older brothers took Ron and Ginny to play outside with the twins and had already finished all of mine.
You are welcome.
About your mother’s threatening list; you have yet to understand the meaning of threatening. Wait until you see how Mum Dearest deals with the twins' bullshit, you would be shocked by how many carefully chosen words come out of her mouth (all to incite the biggest amount of fear possible, of course.)
And your mother is right, you know. I mean, you know! You’ve been flying for what? Four months? And you’ve managed to almost kill yourself so many times already. I don’t even understand how that is possible but you are a rather impressive human being when it comes to that.
Since we’re already on the topic of your mother, please send her my regards for making you further your vocabulary (making your letters a lot easier to read than whatever the other boys decide to send me that day, you should see how awful it is. It surprises me that Minerva hasn’t yet tossed them off Gryffindor for not knowing how to write a normal sentence. Or, perhaps, they are just doing it on purpose to annoy me. Please let me know if they have used the wrong type of They’re at least seven times in all the letters they addressed to you) it is profusely appreciated.
As a matter of fact, Andrew did send me a letter with the Chamber of Secrecy or whatever is called bullshit. You would think that at that age we would stop believing in scary stories our parents tell us to make us all study hard or whatever. I mean, who would be convinced by such nonsense?
I told him just that, and soon afterward received a letter from Whittles that merely said, ‘I second that.’ (I did not receive any information about rats whatsoever, so perhaps he believed you to be more open to discussing the health of the family’s mascot and you simply crushed all of his hopes and dreams. Actually, my family also has a rat, an old one at that, so he would’ve been more than welcome to discuss it with me. I will not, however, invite him to do so, and neither should you.) In response to it, Andrew sent me a threatening letter saying that when I do get taken by the monster that lives under the castle - monster, imagine that! -, and my body is never found, he will make sure to write Faithless Arsehole on my headstone. He told me you would sign it as well, and let me just say that I don't doubt it for a second.
My answer to that was that the only monster living under the castle grounds was Marcus Flint, who slept in Slytherin's dorms and scared the shit out of everyone with that ugly ass face.
Things around here are just like they usually are, hectic. Bill is calmer than normal, probably too focused on studying for his N.E.W.Ts to plan the usual prank around the house. Charlie, however, who should be focusing on his O.W.Ls is spending so much time flying outside that we barely see him without anything weird in his hair. He claims to Mother that he already knows too much anyway and that the exams will be easy. I doubt it, but Charlie has a way of passing every subject with the least amount of effort and even being praised by his teacher for it. Fred and George are turning out to be a bigger problem than my parents hoped for. They are loud, fiery nine-year-olds who refuse to stay still for more than twenty seconds. They are obsessed with pranks in a way not even Charlie can relate to, and their favorite target now is Ron. Ginny is always with Mum and she cries too loudly, so she's not the ideal victim, I'm still too old for them to bother right now, so Ron is suffering the worst of it. I just hope they grow out of this phase quickly.
Charlie tried to convince me and Billy to train Quidditch with him, failing spectacularly on both ends. I couldn't help but be reminded of you, against all of my wishes, evidentially, since you would adore the chance to fly around like a moron for a little while.
So, I have to ask, because Mum has been bullying me about it since she met you at the train station. Can you convince your parents to come and spend some days here with us? Mum said we could deliver you at the station, it wouldn't be a problem whatsoever. But, whatever makes your parents feel better about their decision.
Please send me an answer as quickly as you can.
About your parents. Mate, I don't think they wish to discuss anything that would be likely to upset you in the least. Remember their letter to you after hearing of your injury? They are rather fond of you - though I cannot for the life of me imagine why. They love you, Wood. And if it bothers you that much, perhaps you should discuss it with them. Tell them how you feel about it and all.
Wishing to hear from you soon,
Percy Weasley.
Dear Sam,
Weasley just wrote to me telling me he would be most interested in hearing about your aunt’s dying rat since he is about to inherit one himself. Please, send him all the information you can on the subject.
Hoping your holidays are going well,
Oliver Wood.
Dear Oliver,
Thank you for telling me!! I'm sure he will mostly appreciate the friend you are. I will write to him this instant.
Sam.
Dear Percy,
I don't know if you have heard, Oliver might've mentioned something, but my aunt just lost her rat. Such a sad moment for us all. You didn't have to get worried to ask me for some pointers, to know how to deal with the passing of such a dear member of the family.
Let me tell you all about it…
(The rest of the letter is, for some mysterious reason, gone, and this small piece that was left is covered in ashes.)
Dear Oliver,
Can you believe Weasley reckons the whole Chamber of Secrets is a poor excuse for a joke?! Really, how daft can you get?
Even Whittles has been convinced by Weasley's skepticism. It's just us now, in our fact-based beliefs. When all else is lost, and we are standing in the ruins of what once was Hogwarts, with their decaying corpses somewhere under the caved-in walls, we will finally know who was correct - and by that, I mean us, obviously.
Anyway, can you help me with the Transfiguration paper? Percy said he wouldn't do it, it was my punishment for being a naive fool.
Happy Christmas!
Andrew Mistbone.
Dear Andrew,
I am terribly sorry to disappoint you, not only through the contents of this letter but the way I will be forced to put it (for a better comprehension on your end.)
Although your description of our fates was tremendously disturbing - mate, perhaps you should seek professional help, that sounded particular thought out for someone who swears to be our friend! - I am, in this precise situation, obliged to second Percy. The Secret Tombs is bullshit.
About the Transfiguration homework. I'm sorry mate, haven't started it. But I will let you copy it from me once I'm done with it and Percy revises it. Just, you know, don’t copy it too well and put some of your own mistakes there so Minerva won’t catch us. What am I saying, at this point, you already know the bases.
What are your plans for the rest of the holidays? Any chance we can meet up anywhere? Hopefully, before my foolishness is proven by the destruction of my mortal body underneath your feet ;)
Oliver
Perce,
No, I won't be discussing anything with anyone. I just don't know how to do it, so please just allow me not to do anything at all. I suppose I’m just someone who prefers to live in peace and quiet. Blissful ignorance or whatnot.
Also, I talked to my parents and they agreed to let me go see you for the rest of the weeks before returning to Hogwarts. Suppose they feel this weird atmosphere just as much as I do, then. Not that much has changed since I last wrote to you, things are basically at the same level of nothing around here, so perhaps there isn’t anything to notice at all, this is just how terribly boring my family is after all.
Tell me how to get there, in your next letter. I'm surprisingly excited about seeing you. And your family. They sound so fun, Weasley. I would like to play Quidditch with your brother very much. Please tell him that.
But please, do it in a cool way. Just mention it briskly. In a normal way. In a conversationalist way. In a hey, so, seeing as we're talking Quidditch, Wood mentioned in a nonchalant way that he might be interested in playing with you.
Please answer me as fast as you can,
Yours,
Wood.
Percy Weasley,
You are a fool. A FOOL WEASLEY.
That's all.
Wishing you a great holiday - remember it could possibly be the last.
Andrew Mistbone
Sam,
I am sorry to have to say it like this, but I honestly don't care much about your aunt's rat. Please don't take this as an invitation to keep writing me letters,
Weasley.
Weasley,
You didn't have to be so rude about it, I was simply trying to help. Don't worry, though, I do forgive you - in the name of fighting the greater evil here.
Speaking of him, have you found a way to make Andrew shut it about the Secret Society of Chambers? It is getting on my nerves and my Mum reckons this whole stress is horrid for me.
Is he already talking to you about an excruciating death that you will soon suffer? Because he's there now with me. Lots of letters. Lots of threatening. Lots of long descriptions of my dead body. Should we seek him some help? Should we let Silverblood take care of our problem?
What to do?
Please get back to me as soon as possible,
Sam Whittles
Weasley,
How have you been?
Crazy news, your friends are deranged. Please request that they stop writing to me, these weeks away are precisely for me to not have to deal with their bullshit. I don’t particularly care if there’s a giant monster just waiting around the corner to kill us all, in all honesty, whenever Wood is around, I fairly hope for it. There simply cannot be anything more frightening for me than receiving yet another letter from Mistbone - you would think he would’ve gotten the message in the three first times I did not respond to him or in the one time I did, calling him a witless idiot, and warning him about finding that monster he is so scared of and leading it straight into your dorm rooms if he kept contacting me.
Kindly pass the message along once more, otherwise I will be forced to align myself with the Society of Secrets and murder us all.
Also, why the fuck would you tell Whittles I wanted to hear about his dead rat?
Hoping you’re enjoying this free time to rethink your friendships,
Angie Silverblood.
Hey, Percy.
Would you be willing to meet somewhere to discuss these last Transfiguration assignments? We could go out and drink some butterbeer if you're up to it.
Yours truly,
Penelope Clearwater
Wood,
Answer it truthfully, are you in love with my brother? Because if you are, I must tell you, it's not that I don't believe Charlie to be into blokes, more so like he would think you're too young. Just wait a couple of years, will you? I would have offered the idea of pretending to be older since the infatuation sounds serious, but we have already some setbacks on the matter. The first one being, of course, that he knows we are in the same year, and yet the most obvious one is the fact that you cannot seem to stop acting like a six-year-old child, and so appearing older is, in fact, an impossible task for you.
I did try my best for you, Wood, trust me, I did. I told Charlie something like: “Wood’s coming soon, so avoid asking me to play with you and just wait until he gets here. He's super excited to fly again, with you more than anything.”I would say there is no need to thank me, but we both know that to be a lie - I like my hard work to be acknowledged. He thinks you’re adorable - his words, not mine, adorable would be towards the end of the list of adjectives I would associate with you -, so I reckon a ‘thank you’ gift is in order now.
But let’s not discuss Charlie any longer, the time I have to spend by his side is already enough to make me question my sanity, and the twins are showing signs of following his questionable footsteps. Yesterday, Fred exploded something in the attic while George was in charge of distracting Mum. We only discovered what had taken place when Ron’s yells were too loud to be masked by George's sudden fits of coughs.
I affirm that no one in this household is safe anymore. These too are getting wicked. Wicked, Wood, I warn you. The first day back, Fred and George, having uncovered the truths behind the Unbreakable Vows, tried to make poor naive Ronald take one. Dad was furious when he found out.
Back to business now. I couldn’t help but notice you declared yourself an enthusiast of peace, and it did make me wonder if something had hit you in the head while away from Hogwarts. I have yet to see you sit still for more than three minutes, Wood, and, believe me, it is not pretty.
Now, if you have suddenly suffered a complete change in your personality, do excuse the rudeness. I would love to be your best friend. If you haven't suffered a life-altering tragedy that made you rethink your worst faults, then the friend request must be ignored.
Anyway, don't worry about how to get here, we'll go get you.
See you soon,
Percy Weasley
Silverblood,
I apologize in their name. I don't gather they'll stop, but I do apologize. And if you do come across the Secret Society of Underground Corridors, I would love an invite to be part of the club.
Don’t be shy, hunt all of those slimy Slithering down. You can throw Mistbone in the mix as well, and, if you catch me in a lenient mood, I might even help you feed Oliver to the monster.
About the rat: I did no such thing. Unfortunately, I was the target of the same senseless joke and had to suffer through pages of condolences that were put in place for the rat. I could show you, but I burned the wretched thing.
If this problem persists, you should try - and bear with me for thus - writing to Wood about it. I reckon this has something to do with him.
Hoping you’re considering my earliest request,
Weasley.
Hello, Penny.
I would love to meet up. Just write to me when you're available and we'll try to make it work.
Love,
Percy.
Andrew,
Please lose my address. If I need to kidnap your owl to make that happen, I will. This is not a threat, this is a bloody warning. Stop writing to me about this Mysterious Mumbling Chamber.
Better yet, stop writing at all.
PS: Mother said I should invite you to come along with Oliver and me for a stroll in Diagon Alley. So, here it is. The invite.
Not so kind regards,
Percy Weasley
Percy,
I thank you dearly for your invite, and will make sure to be there just to see you one last time before your foolishness takes the best of you, and leads you to the Chamber.
Already mourning you,
Andrew
Andrew,
Did you ask someone else to correct your letter before sending it to me? Foolishness? Really? Big word.
Not looking forward to seeing you,
Weasley
Sam,
Find better friends and don't make the mistake of thinking they will be mine as well. I wish Mistbone would go ahead and find the Society of Secrecy. And then get stuck in there for the whole eternity.
(Not) Yours,
Percy Weasley
Weasley.
I despise you. How could you ever do that to me?! What will Charlie think of me now?????? Please, tell me you did not tell him that I was excited to fly alongside him!! Actually, I don’t remember your words exactly, because I would have to throw myself out of the window if I reread that horrible excuse of a letter!!!
Now I can never look at your brother again! I am destined to walk Hogwart’s corridors with something covering my eyes so as not to die of embarrassment. You just ended my life, Percy Weasley.
Your ex-best friend,
PS: Friendship request DENIED.
Oliver Wood.
Oliver,
If you started walking blindfolded through the corridors of Hogwarts, I promise you, the embarrassment would certainly not come from what Charlie thought of you. I would also ditch you as a friend, so.
Please, stop saying odd shit.
My brother thinks you’re fine. If you’re truthfully that infatuated, then, bloody hell, just write him a love poem or whatever. I will even correct your grammar if you promise to stop this nonsense afterward.
We are coming to get you, - that was not supposed to sound threatening -, so stop with the bizarre attitude, you will absolutely see Charlie soon. Get over it.
Your (only) friend,
Percy.
.
It had already been too long since he had last seen Percy. The letters had helped, but it wasn't the same thing as seeing his sarcastic smile and hearing his annoyed tone when Oliver said something particularly witty. So, when a battered blue car approached his house, he didn’t have to think too long before launching himself against the red-haired boy who emerged from the passenger seat, arms closing around his slim shoulders, eyes sparkling with badly contained joy.
He could've sworn Percy had held him back, pressing his body on Oliver's, smiling slightly, but hiding it well in Wood's neck. He even allowed him to hold on for longer than a couple of seconds. Oliver tried to act like their sink-beating hearts did nothing to him, but it made his cheeks heat, it made him so absurdly happy.
“By car? That’s how we’re gonna go to your house?” He asked once he was brave enough to step back after Weasley had let him go. Percy must have missed the cheerful happiness on his face, although Oliver could not tell if it came with the expectations for their traveling plans or the mere presence of the other boy close by once again.
“Yeah, I told Dad it would take forever. We could’ve done with a bit more magic, couldn’t we? C’mon, we have magic. But we didn't know if you used Floo Powder, and Mum doesn’t approve of that line of thought, anyway.”
Wood didn’t know how to express that the thought of spending multiple hours sitting by Percy, on the route to his house, with the sprinkles of snow outside and the perfect excuse to sit side by side without Percy's usual level of annoyance against Wood's habit of ignoring his ‘personal space’ sounded like a much needed holiday from the tension-filled household he was escaping from.
Mr. Weasley finally stepped out of the vehicle to greet Oliver’s parents, but none of the children were paying much attention to the formalities, too entranced with each other to bother looking beyond. Oliver didn’t need to, there were only a handful of things that could make him look away from Percy Weasley as it was, and he only felt that getting stronger by the day. Perhaps it was foolish, but he wanted a moment just to stare at Percy's eyes, possibly trying to make sense of the feeling of intense contempt spreading in his chest just by the sight of his friend. He had missed Weasley, and the thought could not be scarier. It had been, what? A week? And still, he missed him so dearly it burned in his chest.
His eyes rejected the mere inclination to wander off somewhere else that was not the green forest of the other boy’s eyes. It was pure relief, to be standing so close again. He wanted to snuggle close and would've done so if he knew that Percy wouldn't reject such close contact.
Oliver was an only child, so he never understood the feeling of having someone so close to him who knew him as easily as Weasley did. He had never known the need for close contact before, the need to see Percy with his own eyes, to feel his hands on his back, to feel his presence more than anything. And although their connection had nothing to do with family per se, it had everything to do with love. Adoration, perhaps.
That was the words for it, that childlike adoration that bordered on obsession, that was Percy Weasley to Oliver Wood.
And even if he did already miss his parents terribly, he didn’t have it in him to step back from Percy to say anything else to them. He waved happily, promising loads of letters he wasn’t sure he would be capable of writing, making sure to not once be a foot away from Weasley.
The car door closed with a loud sound, and then they were off. Mr. Weasley talked for most of the way, merrily discussing his future plans for the car they were presently on, something about invisibility buttons and flying - Oliver really couldn’t keep up, no matter how much he tried. And, to be fair with Mr. Weasley, he wasn't genuinely trying, his attention always going back to Percy whenever the other boy moved around a bit.
After the discussion had come to a halted end when Mr. Weasley affirmed not to be allowed to do any of it, and of course - of course! - he would never go through with it, it was just fascinating, wasn’t it? Percy, who had spent most of the time until then staring out of the window, hands pressed against the cold glass, as if ready to grab a handful of snow at the first opportunity, suddenly turned.
Eyes on his. Oliver felt himself smile. Felt his chest swell. He cocked his head to the side, staring right back. Oh, how he had missed those sharp-edged eyes.
“I missed you a bit, Wood.” When the smile grew too big for his face, Percy scowled, as if he had no desire to ever see him that happy. “Not that much.” It was bullshit. They both knew it and yet it was a blessing to fall back into their familiar banter and obvious lies, distracting Oliver enough for him to forget his desperate feelings.
“I think that much, yes. I think you missed me so much you couldn’t function! You missed me so much you even cried yourself to sleep. You missed me, oh so dearly you wouldn't eat for days on end!!”
Percy's scowl got bigger. Oliver's smile got wider. They stared for a while before Percy scoffed and turned away.
Arthur Weasley, on the seat in front of Oliver, huffed a laugh, meeting his gaze through the mirror and copying his smile. “Molly mentioned how Percy acted differently in front of you, I just hadn’t cared to believe her until now. It is an honest pleasure to finally meet you, Oliver.”
Too satisfied by the comment to sit still, he was able to convince Percy to play a muggle game with him until they could see a tall and uniquely shaped house come into view, the car slowing considerably - Oliver wasn’t sure if Mr. Weasley understood the laws that were implicated in driving a vehicle with two minors in the backseat.
“So, here we are. Welcome to the Burrow, Oliver Wood.”
Oliver grinned wickedly.