bEmail: parsleynsage@hotmail.com
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned
by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury
Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is
being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Summary: Oliver Wood. Who the hell is Oliver Wood? No one in the wizarding community hasn't heard of this man since his surprising graduation from Hogwarts in 1996, much to the dismay of Headmaster Albus Dumbledore. He needs to be found, but why? and who can handle the task?
Chapter One
i'm going to break the cycle
(prologue…sort of)
Wills ground his teeth against the edge of the empty mug, stomach growling and eyes constantly searching the courtyard for a familiar brown mop and a very welcome bag of groceries. The only thing he could do occupy the time was to draw another one of his dumb cartoons on the frosted window with thumb. This was the fourth pane he had covered, the third that involved a different situation in which he would be able to pound Charlie's head into the moldy tile floor of the bathroom, perhaps even giving him some sort of infection.
Mind you Wills wasn't normally a violent person, but his patience was directly connected to his stomach, like most men. However, his roommate, Charlie, didn't see fit to go out for more foot until the larder and refrigerator were completely empty and gathering dust. The idiot had forgotten to write down a list for the grocery store and had had to call back to the flat and get a list from Wills, who was being tortured on the other end listening to Charlie describe the different sorts of cookies. It had been two hours since he had borrowed his roommate's scooter and driven off in the direction of the market and at least half and hour since his last call.
"Come on now, you bloody git. I dare you to use the cross the courtyard. Now!" Wills yelled at the empty yard, his stomach echoing his cry of mercy.
Without transportation or any money to use for anything besides rent, Wills was stuck in the flat. He couldn't do anything to Wood at the moment, but he could at least rummage through his room. He'd been curious as to what the twit did in that closed room of his all day long, and were those funny little gold coins he paid his rent in came from. Wills chuckled to himself, that's exactly what he would do.
Charlie trudged up the last set of shitty steps to his shitty cramped apartment he shared with his shit of a roommate Wills. He cursed the lift as he passed yet another door, failing to do so silently, he upset a chubby brown child with chocolate smeared on their face. He received a few choice curt words from an angry mother and returned it with a sheepish grin. She couldn't help but smile back. There it was again. The Ferguson magic still worked!
Magic, that was something he hadn't thought about in ages. He doubted that he would even be able to find his wand if he stripped his room from top to bottom, which would be difficult in the state it was currently in. He shifted the wait of the bags to his right arm and attempted to remove a bagel from it's wrapping without spilling the contents on the shitty cement floor or the shitty doormat. He wasn't so lucky and managed spill pickled eggs ( which he had gotten at Wills' request), a tin of re-fried beans (Wills' choice), and catsup (his own mistake) on the front of what he hoped he would find to be a kind as well as stunning girl.
"Oi! I'm terribly sorry," Charlie said in the most suave tone he could manage.
"I'm sure you are," she spat in a tone that was less kind than he had hoped for.
She pushed past him and continued on her way down the stairs. Charlie did his best to repack the bags and stumbled up to the landing where his apartment was. The keys were slippery in his hands and he struggled to even get in the apartment. When the hinges failed to give he resorted to kicking the bottom, leaving a very dirty shoeprint on the metal door.
"It's about time!" Wills cried once he saw Charlie, taking the powdered doughnuts out of the bigger bag.
"I see it's beyond you to even try and help me," Charlie spat as his roommate as he slowly made his way to the shitty cramped kitchenette with it's shitty flower paper cabinets.
Wills nodded, wiping the sugar off his mouth on the back of his arm, "I told you I wouldn't have anything to do with this hideous kitchen unless you take down that hideous cabinet paper!"
Charlie shrugged and began putting away the heavier canned goods, "I heard you telling one of your club friends that you absolutely loved the daring garishness of the flowers, and that you would die before you saw them go."
His roommate stopped mid-bite, the doughnut teetering dangerously on his bottom lip. A few minutes passed before he regained his composure, "And why exactly were you listening to one of my private conversations?"
"First of all, a conversation is no longer private when you're shouting," Charlie snorted rolling his eyes, "And secondly, I live here so I have the right to know about what happens within the apartment, whether it be my business or not."
Wills' face was still flushed scarlet, "I'll be sure to make it your business the next time Charlotte comes over. She was looking at your picture the last time he was over, said you reminded her of someone named Oliver Wood. Though I can't understand why Charlotte would know someone name Oliver, never mentioned someone with that name before, and she tells me everything. Maybe she wants to meet you because she fancies you."
Charlie's fit of laughing began as a slight chuckle and then escalated into bellowing cackle from the bottom of his feet. He had to rest a hand on the counter to steady himself as not to fall.
Irony, wasn't it just hilarious?
"What the hell can be so entertaining?" Wills asked, still not understanding anything.
"It's just that," he started still laughing, "we both know Charlotte is no she," he continued, interrupted by another bought of amusement, "and she'd know a thing or two about me, everyone does, if she's from the other—I mean my home town."
Wills could do nothing to shut his mouth.
"Don't look so surprised! I'm not as sheltered as you think I am. It's perfectly fine as long as you do whatever it is you do—and no I don't want to hear any sort of details—in your own space. After all, you live here just like I do."
His roommate suddenly found his confidence, "That's right! I do live here, and she—I mean, er—he should be able to do whatever—I don't think I need to provide any details—we like whenever we like, but I suppose where we do it will have to suit you."
Charlie snickered, "That's exactly what I said. Glad you agree, Wills. I feel so close to you right now."
Wills dodged his roommate's attempt to swipe the doughnut from his mouth and smacked Charlie on the head, "You stupid boy! These are my doughnuts. Besides, I don't think you need any."
"What are you talking about?" Charlie asked trying to create a body building pose.
"This," Wills said as he made a grab for Charlie's middle. Charlie squirmed and almost let out a high-pitched squeal, "I wouldn't have ever taken you as a ticklish little Scot."
Charlie pushed his roommate off the counter, "One would think that you're trying to get fresh with me Wills Faulk."
Wills winked and dashed out of the room, conveniently leaving before Charlie had finished putting away the groceries. Charlie silently cursed his roommate and threw the carton of milk and gallon of orange-banana juice into the frig. He cringed when he heard something crash in the inside of the icebox. Not feeling curious he made a mental note to open later and investigate what kind of mold was threatening his precious vanilla ice cream later.
Wills sat happily in his room completely submerged under, what he thought was 'the prettiest blue blanket in the whole county'. He loved it for so many reasons; the gorgeous piecing, the intricate quilting, and the fact that Charlotte had given it to him. He was searching for a number with his right hand, squinting to see the tiny numbers in his only telephone book. In his left hand he held a wooden stick and a bunch of small gold coins.
"There it is!" Wills exclaimed as he saw the number he had been searching for. Months ago one of Charlotte's friends had given him the digits to a great physic, the best outside of that big Jamaican woman herself.
"Let's find out a little bit more about Mr. Charlie Ferguson," he snickered as he pushed the send button.