-1Chapter 2: Guessing Games

"So, then I was just thinking, well, why not me? And then Jilly said that I should try to get into the Magical Reversal Squad because, you know, she said I could do a good job at it, seeing as I'm always getting into that kind of stuff…"

Oliver felt his eyes closing. He quickly snapped them back open, leaning slightly forward, his chin in his hand. It was a little after eight o'clock, and he had been sitting in the same spot for more than two hours. The chair was hard and altogether quite uncomfortable. Not to mention that Jemima's constant stream of chatter was getting to his head. He raised his hand and ordered another glass of Ogden's Firewhisky, for the mere purpose of trying to stay awake.

Beside Jemima, Imogene was sipping her tea and laughing at what her cousin was saying.

"So," Imogene said, now breaking a bit of pastry off with her fingers. "Then what did she say?"

"She said that it was quite a mess!" Jemima wiped tears of laughter from her eyes while Imogene chuckled. "What do you think of that, Oliver?" she said, turning to face him.

"What? Oh! Er…yeah, that's…that's really funny." Oliver attempted a smile, and apparently it was good enough for Jemima who was giggling like crazy.

"Oh, look at the time." Imogene looked at her watch. "Oh, I'm so sorry, Oliver, we've kept you for too long."

Relief coursed through him, and Oliver stood, stretching. "S'all right." he said through a wide yawn, which he hastily tried to cover up.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" Jemima said. She stood up and accidentally knocked her water glass over. It promptly shattered and water spread across the blue linen tablecloth. "Oh, dang it…"

Oliver leapt back to keep the water from spraying him. He threw a bunch of napkins down on the rapidly spreading mess, but Imogene just flicked her wand and said "Scourgify."

The wet soggy mess cleared up at once. Oliver felt almost stupid.

"I'm so clumsy." Jemima sighed. "Ah, at least I have Genie here to help me."

Imogene grinned. "Yes, that's why I'm here, Jem. I'm here to clean up after you."

The two girls broke out into giggles and Oliver had to restrain from rolling his eyes. He pushed his chair in and picked up his bag from the chair.

"Well," he said, backing away. "Thank ye for inviting' me to dinner. I really must be going now, though, so…bye!"

He waved and all but ran out of the café, Jemima's and Imogene's shouts of goodbye ringing in his ears.

Safely back up in his flat, Oliver leaned against his door and let out all of his breath in one long whoosh. He wondered at Jemima's ability to speak for incredible amounts of time without taking a single breath. The girl must have an extra lung or something.

Still…Oliver looked up at the ceiling. He had to admit, the evening had been a lot more interesting compared to what he was used to do. Which was sit around, eating sweets and reading.

A slim, long-haired black cat with a striped orange and black tail jumped up on the table next to the door. Oliver smiled down at it and reached over, scratching it between its ears.

"Good evening, Zacharias." he said. He picked the cat up and walked over to the couch, where he sank down with Zacharias in his lap. Leaning his head back on the couch, Oliver closed his eyes, so tired he was almost ready to go to bed. He was just drifting off when,

CRACK!

Oliver's eyes flew open and Zacharias hissed, digging his claws into Oliver's leg. He yelled and flung the cat away.

"Blimey…stupid cat…" Oliver rubbed at the raw scratches his pet had left.

"Good evening, Wood."

He glanced up. "Katie. What is wrong with ye?"

Katie Bell grinned down at him. "Nothing. What's up with you?"

Oliver glared at her. "I mean, what do ye think ye are doing, just Apparatin' into a man's house with no warnin'."

She snorted. "It's not like I'm going to do anything. Merlin's beard, you're superstitious, Wood."

Oliver paused in the act of mopping up the blood dripping down his leg. "Ye know…" he said grumpily. "I don't know whether to feel relieved or insulted."

Katie swept past him into the kitchen. "I'm your best friend, Wood. That's why I'm here. That, and to fix up your messes. Which, by the way, are obviously enormous."

Oliver's mature reply was to stick out his tongue at her. She just rolled her eyes and went on cleaning up the dishes with a flick of her wand.

A reluctant smile tugged at the corner's of Oliver's mouth. He had known Katie for the better part of five years, and the girl was absolutely one of the most open-hearted people he had met.

She was also quite impossibly stubborn sometimes. Like a wild boar, Oliver thought grimly, watching her bustle around the kitchen with obvious purpose.

Katie had always been there for Oliver. It would have been nice, he thought somewhat wistfully, if they could have gotten together, but there was absolutely no romantic atmosphere between them whatsoever. Being best friends was quite good enough for him, and he was fine with it.

"Blimey, Wood." Katie said as she sent now clean glasses into the cupboard above the sink. "It's like you live in a dung heap. I don't know how you stand it."

"I do not live in a 'dung heap.'" Oliver said rather indignantly. "I just don't have time to clean, most of the time."

Katie sent him a skeptical glance. "Oh really. And what else do you do besides play Quidditch? Brush your cat?"

Oliver pretended to be wounded. "Ouch, Katie. That's harsh."

She rolled her eyes. "I think you'll get over it. Now, why don't you go and get ready for bed while I finish up in here?"

"What do ye think I am, four years old? Lassie, I'll have ye know I am almost twenty-three. I think I know how to put myself to sleep."

"Yeah, yeah, go on." Katie waved a hand behind her carelessly. "Bye."

He grumbled all the way into the bedroom where he collapsed onto the bed. Zacharias looked at him from the nightstand where he lay curled up on one of Oliver's Quidditch magazines.

Oliver stood up and changed into a pair of grey and black plaid pajama pants. He was in the process of looking for a pajama shirt when the door to his bedroom burst in.

"Merlin, Katie." he said crossly, holding a teeshirt to his bare chest. "I think I can get dressed by meself-"

"No, Oliver." she said breathlessly. "Imogene just called. Jemima's been attacked."