Four - Oliver Wood - frozen
There is a picture on the mantel piece, not quite in pride of place, but prominent enough. Seven young people, four boys and three girls, dressed in scarlet and gold, holding aloft a golden cup. Oliver regards it with fondness; himself and his friends frozen in time at what was - then - the high point of his life. He remembers even now the sheer elation of winning, the double thump as the twins flew into him and Harry in mid-air after Harry caught the Snitch, the girls' voices chanting, "We won the Cup! We won the Cup!" That moment, frozen in time in a photograph, will be caught in his mind forever.
There is another photograph on the mantel shelf. Six of the young people, older than in the first photograph in more than years. One missing, and even on such a happy day that absence is felt. Maybe if it would not be so obvious if his twin were not there, smiling at the end of the photograph, his arm around the waist of the tall dark bridesmaid to Oliver's left. Despite the smile, he looks somehow diminished from the grinning boy in the first photograph with his arm around the shoulders of an identical boy with an identical grin.
Oliver smiles slightly sadly and replaces the picture on the mantelpiece, shaking himself to be rid of the memories and return to reality, to his life here and now. He turns as the door opens and his wife comes in carrying their son. Their son – still Oliver is slightly amazed that he should be old and responsible enough to be a father. His wife smiles up at him and hands the boy over with a groan of relief.
He's heavy," she complains, rubbing her back. "And baby sister is making her presence felt today. She'll have to be a Beater."
Oliver smiles and pulls her close. He gestures at the first photograph on the mantelpiece, and his wife's eyes soften too as she sees them again as they were, all of them.
"Shall we call her Frederica?" Oliver asks with a grin, and she laughs and touches the face of the remaining twin in their wedding photograph slightly sadly.
"I like Georgia better, I think," she says softly. The boy in Oliver's arms wriggles to be put down; it is his tea time and he is hungry.
Oliver sets him down and laughs. "Okay, okay. I can take a hint," he says. "You're a growing lad and it's time to eat." He takes the child's hand, and the three of them leave the room together for the cosy kitchen where the meal is awaiting them.
Behind them in the picture on the mantelpiece, the young Quidditch team, frozen in time and in victory, continue to celebrate.