Touch Wood
Harry swallowed as he listened to Oliver recounting the tale of his first ever Quidditch match, and how he took a Bludger to the head and woke up a week later in the hospital, with no recollection as to what happened during that time. A simple "Good luck, Harry!" or "You'll do fine, Potter!" would have sufficed, but this was Oliver Wood after all – the man was not exactly conventional when it came to conversing with others when Quidditch was involved.
"Hopefully, we won't have a repeat of that then," Harry laughed slightly, if not a little worried now. "Touch wood," he added, looking around before patting the wooden post next to them.
He turned around and saw his teammates looking at him as if he had grown another head. He quickly looked down to see if there was anything on his uniform and saw nothing out of the ordinary.
"Why would we want to touch Wood?" Fred asked with an arch of his brow. "Bit weird, if you ask me."
"Especially before a game," George added. "Plus, I think you're a little young for Wood's tastes, Harry," he laughed.
Harry shook his head, his cheeks going slightly red at the twin's teasing and the rather scared expression on Oliver's face as he took a step away from him.
"What? I'm not – it's a muggle expression! It's said as a way of either warding off bad luck or to promote continued good luck. So like, I mentioned about this match not going the way of Wood's in year one, and I said 'touch wood' to not jynx it into happening."
"Ohhh!" they all said together, with Oliver now looking visibly relieved.
"Yeah, you're supposed to touch something wood when you say it, though muggles will also touch their heads if they cannot find anything wooden to touch," Harry explained, still amazed that something that was common knowledge to him was something extraordinary unknown to the wizarding world.
The sounds of the crowd cheering for the upcoming match brought them back to the here and now. All of them anxious to start playing and, doubly fingers crossed, win a game after last year's abysmal losing streak.
"Well guys, it's time to go out there and win this match!" Oliver said with a wide grin and a maniacal glint in his eyes. "Touch wood, that is," he added, tapping his head with a laugh.
The rest of the team shouted in agreement and rushed forward to touch their captain for good luck. The twins tapped his head with more force than ought to be needed really. Alicia and Katie squeezed his shoulders, while Angelina slapped him on the back and Harry reached out for his arm. They shared a grin before mounting their brooms and flying off towards the pitch.
As it turned out, Gryffindor won the match, with Harry catching the snitch in his mouth just before he collided with the ground.
"Are we sure the muggles aren't aware of magic? They seem to be onto something with that 'touch wood' thing," Angelina said, putting a hand to her face in contemplation.
"Oh who cares? We won the game!" Fred exclaimed, throwing an arm around Angelina.
Gryffindor celebrated their first win in over a year and before each game, the players did the same thing – patting and whacking their captain for good luck. It was uncertain if there was anything to it, but it was a bit of fun and gave the rest of the team an excuse to get back at Oliver for the rigorous training with a nice hard slap to the back of his head, all in the name of good luck for the team. However, the newest traditional slowly moved away from being said just before matches, to being used in everyday life. A pat on the shoulders from the seventh years to bring luck for their NEWTs. A squeeze of his arm from the first years for their upcoming Potions class. Even a quick touch of his back as a sixth year ran late for detention.
Upon entering the common room one morning, Oliver was surprised by a hand softly squeezing his arm and turned to see his friend and dormmate, Percy, smiling with a stack of books under his other arm and several parchment rolls poking out of the pockets of his robes.
"For the OWLs exams later today," he said.
Oliver blinked in confusion. "You don't need luck for your OWLs though."
"No, but you do. Good luck, Wood," Percy laughed as he turned with a grand swoop of his robes and walked to the quietest corner of the room for some last-minute revision.
As it turned out, the luck did nothing because while he passed his OWLs, and Potter and his friends survived their weird adventures that caused a great increase in awarded house point, thus making Gryffindor the House Cup winners - they had lost out on the Quidditch Cup!
The following years was even worse with the actual cancellation of Quidditch. Oliver was tempted to yell that patting him was officially bad luck now and that the muggles and their false magical methods had cursed him because why else would that explain everything happening? However, students were scared and continued to cling to him in hopes that no further harm would come to anyone else. It was only when Percy threw his arms around him and held him tight as he trembled, wishing for the safe return of his sister, that Oliver decided that maybe it wasn't such a bad idea to let people have a bit of false hope at his expense.
And if some Gryffindors believed that Ginny Weasley was found alive, the Chamber was closed and Gryffindor won the House Cup for the second year running, was due to good luck, then who was to say otherwise.
The year following that, and Oliver's last year in Hogwarts, was something magical indeed. Yes, it was true that a madman had escaped from Azkaban and was believed to be stalking the halls of Hogwarts and that the Dementor's presence was causing sever issues for his Seeker, but nothing could stop the immense joy at having McGonagall wishing them luck as she patted Oliver's shoulder before the last match of the year and then Gryffindor went on to win the Quidditch Cup!
He is more than man enough to admit that he cried as the realization of their victory sunk in and the effect it would have on his future Quidditch career. Yes, he still needed to complete his NEWTs but as far as he was concerned, everything was set in stone for him.
It was time to finally say goodbye to the walls of Hogwarts and more than enough of his friends, especially his Quidditch team, stated that it would not be the same without their resident luck totem and that if anything bad happened, then on your head be it, Oliver Wood!
The following year, as the new and returning Gryffindor's entered the common room, a rather small handful were shocked to see a broom perched proudly against the roaring fireplace.
"It's Wood's broom!" George said, walking up to the broom and picking it up, an odd feeling filling his chest.
"That's not like him to leave his broom behind," Fred said, walking to his brother's side to inspect the broom in question.
"Why would he forget his broom – won't he need it?" Harry asked, wary of the thought of an anxious Oliver Wood storming the castle for his broom.
"Merlin help the poor sod who is left to console Wood when he realizes he left his beloved broom behind," Angelica laughed, envisioning the scene playing out perfectly clear in her head. "Let's hope we don't read in the paper about the untimely breakdown of the newest Puddlemere United reserve player."
"Touch wood," Harry said, reaching out to press his hand against the wooden handle before realizing the real reason for the broom having been left in the common room.
"That git," George laughed. With a flick of his wand, the broom was levitated off the ground and attached to the wall above the fireplace, ready to serve its purpose of being the thing that wards of bad luck jinxes and promotes good luck, and boy will they need it with the Tri-Wizard Cup this year.