A/N:
Rereading moments out of The Order of the Phoenix, particularly the Slytherin-Gryffindor Quidditch match, and several thoughts went through my mind: when the Weasley is Our King song was being sang, why didn't anyone on the staff do anything? Because bullying from the Slytherins is one thing; but a song about Ron being a failure at everything is just plain cruel. I also wondered what Oliver Wood would have thought if he were there, watching it happen, and what he'd think of everything that occurred in the fifth book, because judging by the way he came back for the Battle of Hogwarts, he doesn't seem like the type to me who would sit silently when he sees something unjust. Plus, I felt his role wasn't expanded enough at all in the books; he's one of those underrated characters that I continue to want more of.
If you enjoy the story, be sure to give me a review on this. Enjoy!
A Captain's Support:
Oliver Wood knew that when he graduated Hogwarts, he'd have to pass the mantle of Quidditch Captain to somebody else. It was difficult for the anal-attentive, driven Keeper, who'd led the Gryffindor team to high success, which wouldn't have happened if Harry Potter – the boy who carried a legacy name for Quidditch – hadn't joined them his first year. It had been almost unheard of, a first year having a broomstick. But McGonagall had Wood convinced that Harry had been the right fit. And when he saw Harry fly for the first time, he knew McGonagall hadn't made a mistake. Harry Potter was something one of a kind.
And that talent led to their victory in Wood's final year, before he went off to join Puddlemere United. Though he knew he needed someone else to take his place. Being that he'd been aware of the Triwizard Tournament, he hadn't put his word in for McGonagall that Angelina Johnson should be Quidditch Captain until the end of the tournament. He knew like him, Angelina had that eye for the detail, and she knew what it took to win, because he'd personally groomed her to one day take his place as captain. She'd stood in his shadow, watching and observing as Wood led the team. Sure, he'd thought about Harry. But he felt Harry needed more experience; more time to prove that he could handle that responsibility of being team captain. And with all the media attention Harry had been receiving, Wood was glad he asked Angelina to captain the team. Harry had enough on his shoulders.
And as Oliver stood in the locker room for Puddlemere United, getting ready to practice again, he was brought out of his thoughts as an owl landed atop his locker. Peering up at it, he saw it was Angelina's barn owl, Athena, hooting in delight. He reached out and stroked her feathers, before taking the scroll that was tied around her scaled talons.
Opening the scroll, he was surprised to see a letter from said Gryffindor captain.
Oliver,
Again, I'm honored you put word in for McGonagall to make me Quidditch team captain. I reckon McGonagall is determined to keep the Quidditch Cup up in her office, and she won't let Slytherin take it from us that easy.
Finding a new Keeper to take your place wasn't an easy one. The Weasley twins' brother, Ron, ended up trying out. He's green. But, compared to everyone else who showed up, he was better. He needs a confidence boost, and I think with practice, he'll be as superb as you. Maybe the competition could be good for him; he'll have a chance to excel at something.
But that brings me to Harry. I'm sure you read in the Prophet what's been happening. While I'm glad he isn't expelled, he landed himself in detention with the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, Delores Umbridge. He needed to serve an entire week, right when we had try-outs! Can you bloody believe it?! He wouldn't have pulled this rubbish if it were YOU leading! If you ever get a chance, send your former Seeker an owl, and tell him to keep his head down. Because we don't need him getting into any more trouble.
Take care, and good luck.
With love,
Angelina
Wood sighed, reading Angelina's letter again. When he reread the paragraph about Harry being in detention, he felt a pang of sympathy.
It can't be easy for Potter, knowing everyone at the school probably thinks he's a liar, thought Wood.
But as sympathetic as he felt for Harry, he also knew Angelina's frustrations were valid. This was her first and last year as captain, and he could imagine she wanted to leave a good impression. But Harry was also dealing with more than most. He was in his O.W.L year, and he's been getting more of the spotlight thrust upon him in a not so good way. When Oliver heard about Harry supposedly being expelled for casting the Patronus charm, he'd been outraged; Harry wouldn't just cast that if it weren't necessary. It was self-defense. And the smear campaigns against him and Dumbledor were absolutely ridiculous.
Sighing, Wood figured he should respond to Angelina and send Harry an owl, as well. Because he knew from experience they both listened to him.
Pulling out two rolls of parchment, his ink, and his quill, he signaled his own owl, Octavian, over. He proceeded to write his first letter to Angelina.
Angelina,
First off, I'm proud that you found someone to fill my space as Keeper. If Ron Weasley is anything like Charlie, Fred, and George, then I won't worry too much. He'll do fine. Like you said. He just needs practice and a boost of morale.
As for Harry, remember what he's going through. He's dealt with hassle from the Ministry this summer. My mum, who works in there at a desk job, told me his trial was hardly a fair one. That, and he dealt with Cedric Diggory dying before his eyes; he's probably still grieving. If this Umbridge woman is insisting that he's lying about it all (and we both know Potter doesn't exaggerate when he means something) and she's constantly having it out for him, it's probably not helping.
Personally? I don't blame him for lashing out. If it were me, I'd be bloody angry, too. Just give him some time; you know Potter. He just needs to cool off. He also probably needs someone to try and understand. So, give him a break. But also be firm with him.
Do the very best you can with the team. If I find the time, I'll be sure to head to Hogwarts to view the first match.
Good luck,
Oliver
The next one he wrote, he made sure to address to Harry.
Potter,
How're you doing? I heard about all that's been happening with the Prophet. Mam works at the Ministry; she brings me news. Frankly? I'm thinking about joining the Order. Sure, Quidditch is my life, but if You-Know-Who is back, I can't just sit about and do nothing. I wouldn't be much a Gryffindor if I did that.
Angelina told me about your detention with Umbridge. And from what Mam tells me, Umbridge cozies up to Fudge. I wouldn't get on her bad side if I were you, Harry. I understand if you're feeling frustrated over this, but you can't go about lashing out at the first person who says you're lying. Ignore them; walk it off. As long as you know what the truth is, no one can take that away from you.
Just keep your head down, mate. Be sure to wipe that slimy smirk off Malfoy's face when you catch that Snitch for me – like I know you will. Remember why you're on the team in the first place: not for your wealth that your dad might've left you, but for your talent and the content of your character. Show that to everyone.
Take care. Don't let Umbridge get you down, and stay strong, kid,
Oliver
Satisfied with both letters, he attached his to Harry onto the leg of Octavian, and his to Angelina on Athena's leg. He waved the two owls off, before heading towards the Quidditch pitch for practice with the reserve team.
The weeks that passed by, following up to October, were long and arduous. While Puddlemere wasn't in season yet to play, Wood still had Quidditch practice with the reserve team every other day, except on the weekends. So, when he got another owl at his flat in London, he was surprised to see it come around mid-November. Angelina's owl, Athena, hooted at him before going off to sip some water from Octavian's water dish. Opening it, it read as followed:
Oliver,
I don't know if you know, but Delores Umbridge has been appointed High Inquisitor of the school. Harry's owl Hedwig got hurt. I heard Hermione Granger discussing it with Katie. The poor thing's wing was broken. He was pretty torn up about it. That, and he's not himself. I noticed him clutching his forehead after practice earlier this week. He tried brushing it off. But he seems to forget as team captain, I notice things, even if he doesn't think I do.
Oliver inwardly growled. Of course, he knew Umbridge got a new position within Hogwarts; more likely to spy on the students and teachers. He read the rules that she bypassed. But judging from Angelina's letter, Umbridge was reading their mail. And if she touched Harry's owl . . .
Bitch, he thought, shaking his head.
The first game of the season is Saturday. Luckily, McGonagall got the team reinstated. Maybe you being there will put the team in good spirits; Potter especially. He'll be happy to see you. Harry seems he could use one of your famous speeches.
Angelina
Sighing, he pulled a piece of parchment out from his desk, and began writing.
Angelina,
I'm aware of what's going on. I won't say much on that; we'll talk when I stop by Saturday to watch the match. But don't tell Potter I'm coming. I want to see the look on his face when he sees me there.
Good luck,
Oliver
That weekend couldn't come fast enough for Wood. As the Gryffindor team's former captain, he was excited to see how they did under Angelina's leadership. Naturally, he took his broomstick and left early Friday morning, arriving at Hogwarts by that evening, late. After spending the night on McGonagall's sofa in the Head Mistress's office, he awoke early the next morning to breakfast, presented to him by one of the house elves who worked down in the kitchens.
After eating, he changed clothes and headed down towards the Quidditch pitch, where he would be sitting in the teachers' stands with McGonagall and other members of the staff. Unfortunately, that meant he'd be sitting in the same stands as Umbridge.
Sitting in the teachers' stand with Lee Jordan and McGonagall, he had a pretty good view of the entire field. He watched as students piled into the stands, taking their seats. Except, the Slytherins could be heard singing something that sounded oddly of:
Weasley was born in a bin
He always lets the Quaffle in
Weasley will make sure we win
Weasley is our King.
Clenching his fists, he didn't even have to guess who they were singing about. He cast a glance at McGonagall.
"Can't someone get them to shut their traps?" he asked, clenching his teeth together.
McGonagall glanced behind her at Umbridge, eyes wavering slightly. Umbridge being the High Inquisitor meant she had power over the rest of the staff, and she favored the Slytherins more than anything. But this was stepping out of line.
"Hem, hem," Umbridge said in a sickeningly sweet voice that made Wood feel sick to his stomach, "I don't see the problem here."
"I do," Oliver said heatedly. "Ye've got power! Tell them to stop! How're they supposed to concentrate with that bloody song sounding through the stadium? It's a distraction."
"And who might you be?" Umbridge asked, still in that sickeningly sweet voice.
"Former Gryffindor Quidditch captain," Oliver said surly. "Ye might not know me, but ye know my mam; Hazel Wood from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement."
"Tut-tut," Umbridge said. "So you're her boy. What are you doing here?"
"There's nothing that says the former captain can't be on school grounds to watch his former team play," Oliver argued, trying to stay calm.
Umbridge eyed him like he just gave her a great idea. "We'll see about that."
Oliver felt like adding more to it, but McGonagall placed a firm hand on his arm.
"McGonagall," he whispered fiercely. "Ye've got to do something."
"I do as much as I can do, Wood," McGonagall told him. "As for what the Slytherins are doing, I'll find a way to put an end to it; make sure they face the consequences."
Oliver just shook his head. The Slytherins sang a little louder. He was familiar with the hazing and harassment the Slytherins did to the Gryffindor team before a match. It was almost tradition. He sure got a lot of it at the hands of Marcus Flint; Harry just always handled it better. He reckoned how Harry had given Malfoy a sassy remark before the Ravenclaw-Gryffindor game during his seventh and final year; how Harry had a knack for letting it roll off his shoulders and always saying something that got the Gryffindor team roaring with laughter at the Slytherins.
But this was just plain cruel. And clearly, McGonagall could only do so much about it with Umbridge keeping the staff on a tight leash. But he also knew McGonagall to be far too tough to crack. He watched as the horn sounded, and the teams went out onto the pitch. He saw Angelina leading the team up front, with Harry closely behind her. When he was sure Harry caught his eye in the stand, he gave the teen a smile and a small wink, waving at him.
Harry, in return, looked surprised for a moment, but nonetheless returned Oliver's grin, obviously very happy to see him there. The look of excitement on his face was enough for Oliver, as the last time he'd seen the kid, it had been at the Quidditch World Cup where he told Harry about his career and introduced him to his family.
Harry was followed by Katie, Alicia, Fred, George, and Ron – though Ron was looking green, as if he were about to be ill. And the Slytherins' stupid song wasn't helping.
Blimey, this isn't going to go well, thought Wood as he watched Angelina and the Slytherin team captain – Montague, was it? – shake hands, or more like trying to break each other's fingers. Then, the teams mounted, and with a shriek of Madam Hooch's whistle, they kicked off into the air.
He kept his eyes on not just Harry, who was scouring for the Snitch, but Ron, too, who seemed to look even greener than before. There were pre-game jitters. But Ron looked as if he regretted ever joining the team. For the sake of Merlin, Oliver hoped the youngest Weasley brother would do alright. He was rough around the edges, but Charlie Weasley told him years ago that Ron had a lot of raw talent.
"He's great. He always plays Keeper for Fred, George, and I when we practice. He just doesn't do very great under pressure."
And from the looks of it, Ron was off to a rocky start. But Wood saw Ron's attention seemed to be on the Quaffle, his eyes darting as it flew through the air. At least he had the high alertness a Keeper needed. That was a good sign.
Lee immediately started with the commentary as everyone began playing.
"And it's Johnson, Johnson with the Quaffle, what a player that girl is, I've been saying it for years but she still won't go out with me –" Lee said, which got Wood glaring at him; everyone knew Lee had a bad habit of commenting on the girls' looks.
"JORDAN!" yelled McGonagall.
"Just a fun fact, Professor, adds a bit of interest –" defended Lee, which got Wood nearly smacking him upside his head. What the hell did Angelina's looks have to do with the game? "– and she's ducked Warrington, she's passed Montague, she's – ouch – been hit from behind by a Bludger from Crabbe . . ."
That was when Wood noticed who the two Beaters were. They were friends of Malfoy; of course, they'd get on through bribes. And Harry always had problems with them. But the two were so plain stupid, Wood wasn't too concerned about them.
"Montague catches the Quaffle," said Lee, gripping the megaphone, "Montague heading back up the pitch and – nice Bludger there from George Weasley, that's a Bludger to the head for Montague, he drops, passes to Alicia Spinnet and Spinnet's away – dodges Warrington, avoids and Bludger – close call, Alicia – and the crowd are loving this, just listen to them, what's that they're singing?"
That was when Wood heard the full song the Slytherin's were singing into the crowd. He narrowed his eyes as he saw a fifth year – Pansy Parkingson was her name? – conducting it.
Weasley cannot save a thing
He cannot block a single ring;
That's why Slytherins all sing:
Weasley is our King.
Weasley was born in a bin
He always lets the Quaffle in.
Weasley will make sure we win
Weasley is our King.
Wood growled in anger. He noticed Professor Snape somewhere behind him. Sure, Snape wasn't his most favorite teacher. But this had gone too far. And Snape for sure had to recognize that.
"Professor," he said, flagging Snape down as Lee continued his commentary. To Lee's credit, he was speaking louder into the megaphone, trying to drown out the singing. "They're your house! Do something!"
Snape eyed Umbridge, before saying, "I would if that were an option, Mr. Wood."
Wood groaned, exasperated. "Bloody hell, sir! You've got to see that this isn't helping anyone! Take points off them!"
Snape seemed to consider. But Wood could see contempt in his eyes as Snape looked at Harry.
Oliver growled, "Put personal feelings against Potter aside! Hold them accountable! You don't see the Gryffindors doing this!"
Snape just nodded. But Wood could see the hint of reluctance as the song continued echoing through the stadium.
Weasley is our King
Weasley is our King
He always lets the Quaffle in
Weasley is our King
"And it's Warrington with the Quaffle, Warrington heading for goal, he's out of Bludger range with just the Keeper ahead –" Lee continued.
Wood held his breath, watching closely as Ron looked even sicker.
"Come on, Ron," whispered Wood, just at the same time Lee said it. But the Quaffle went straight through the central hoop, giving a score for Slytherin.
Oliver clenched his fists even tighter, nails digging into his palms as he watched. Ron looked humiliated, and the Slytherins were screaming the song at the tops of their voices. That was when Wood noticed Katie was in position with the Quaffle, and she was flying towards the Slytherin goal posts.
"Ye've got this, Katie," he whispered. That was when he heard Angelina screaming at Harry.
"Harry, WHAT ARE YOU DOING? GET GOING!"
Harry had been at a steady standstill, hovering there. Wood watched as his former Seeker dived, looking for the Snitch. But the Slytherins kept getting the upper hand. Oliver felt white-hot rage seep through him as the Slytherins scored again, leaving Ron looking even sicker. It was twenty to nothing. That meant the Slytherins might have the upper hand, but there was still a chance . . .
Ron let in two more goals. But once more, Gryffindor had the Quaffle, and Katie had the ball once more. Wood listened as Lee said, "–Angelina Johnson takes the Quaffle, she's past Warrington, she's heading for goal, come on now Angelina – GRYFFINDOR SCORE! It's forty-ten, forty-ten to Slytherin and Pucey has the Quaffle . . ."
A moment later, that was when Wood's observant eyes caught sight of something gold and shimmering, fluttering, and Harry saw it at the same exact moment. He watched the Gryffindor Seeker dive after it.
"Come on, Potter, ye've got this, kid," Wood whispered, holding his breath as Harry got neck and neck with Malfoy. Malfoy's arm was outstretched behind Harry, and Harry grasped hold of the Golden Snitch. Oliver couldn't help grinning as Harry dove upward, clutching the ball and showing he had it.
The Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff crowds cheered madly, as Oliver jumped up yelling, "THAT'S MY BOY!" into his cupped hands, hoping Harry could hear. They were saved. They won. But that was when a Bludger WHAMMED into Harry, knocking him off his broom and hitting him square in the back. Luckily, he was only five or six feet from the ground. Oliver noticed Crabbe had sent the Bludger flying in Harry's direction to throw him off his broomstick, and Harry landed flat on his back, severely winded, but otherwise looking unscathed.
"Dammit!" whispered Wood, looking towards McGonagall as he said, "I'm going out there."
McGonagall nodded in approval as Wood climbed out of his seat and raced towards the pitch, where Angelina was flying towards Harry in sheer worry. But Wood got there just before she did as he sprinted towards the Seeker.
"Are ye alright?" Wood asked Harry, noticing the surprised look on the fifteen-year-old's face. He hadn't expected Wood to show up to see them play. Nonetheless, he accepted Oliver's hand up and onto his feet as Madam Hooch rounded on Crabbe, screaming at him.
"'Course I am," said Harry as Wood pulled him up, and into a fierce hug, thumping him on the back and mussing his already-messy hair as Wood whispered to him, "That's my boy! What did I tell ye?" His voice was laced with pride as he felt Harry grinning against his shoulder, obviously very happy to see him.
"It was that thug, Crabbe," said Angelina angrily. "He wacked the Bludger at you the moment he saw you'd got the Snitch – but we won, Harry, we won!"
Once Wood was done embracing the very boy he'd personally trained all those years ago, Angelina grabbed Harry into a hug, placing a soft kiss, sisterly, against his temple. But a snort interrupted them as they turned to see Malfoy standing there.
"Saved Weasley's neck, haven't you?" he said to Harry in a voice that sounded like a sneer. "I've never seen a worse Keeper . . . but then he was born in a bin . . . did you like my lyrics, Potter?"
Harry ignored Malfoy, turning to the rest of his teammates who all landed, punching the air in victory. Fred and George looked especially pleased to see Wood there as they took turns embracing their former captain. Katie grinned as she hugged Oliver tightly before she and Alicia hugged Harry, each planting kisses to both his cheeks, then his forehead while Fred and George clapped him on the back. But Wood noticed Ron wasn't in the celebratory mood at all. And Oliver couldn't blame the younger Weasley in the slightest. Not only did he fail at saving the rings, but he had to endure endless humiliation at Slytherin's hands.
Wood remembered the nervousness he'd felt before his first game. He could understand Ron's self-doubt. He made a mental note to talk to him later.
But Malfoy wasn't done. He continued with, "We wanted to write another couple of verses! But we couldn't find rhymes for fat and ugly – we wanted to sing about his mother, see –"
"Talk about sour grapes," Angelina spat in disgust.
"–we couldn't fit in useless loser either – for his father, you know–"
Fred and George suddenly realized what Malfoy was talking about. As they shook Harry's hand they stiffened, turning to face Malfoy.
"Leave it," said Angelina at once, taking Fred by the arm. "Leave it, Fred, let him yell, he's just sore he lost, the jumped-up little –"
Oliver took hold of George's arm, along with Harry, while Katie and Alicia helped Angelina hold Fred back. But he kept his eyes trained on Harry, who was starting to shake. Wood noticed the angered look in his eyes.
"–but you like the Weasleys, don't you, Potter?" Malfoy sneered. "Spend holidays there and everything, don't you? Can't see how you stand the stink, but I supposed you've been dragged up by Muggles even the Weasleys' hovel smells okay –"
Wood gripped George's arm even tighter, but his eyes remained on Harry, who looked especially angry.
"Or perhaps," Malfoy said, leering as Wood desperately looked around for Madam Hooch, or McGonagall . . . someone . . . anyone . . . "you can remember what your mother's house stank like, Potter, and Weasley's pigsty reminds you of it –"
That set Harry off, officially. But luckily, Wood's years of training as Keeper kicked in, and he nodded desperately at Katie who reached over to grab hold of Harry to prevent the Seeker from jumping on the little git. Oliver stepped in front of George and Harry, looking at them sternly and placing firm hands on their shoulders to push them back. He put on his "captain" stance, knowing it was what Fred, George, and Harry responded to.
"Ignore him; walk it off," Oliver told them firmly.
"Out of my way, Wood!" snarled Harry, looking like he wanted to strangle Malfoy right then and there.
"Let me at him!" George growled.
"And if he spoke about your parents, Oliver?" Fred rounded on him angrily, his voice increasing in volume.
"I'd be mad, too," Wood agreed. "But ye can't just –"
"I DON'T CARE!" Harry yelled.
"Harry, I'm not going to let ye make an arse of yeself!" Oliver said, gripping Harry's shoulder even tighter.
"NO! I DON'T BLOODY CARE IF I SERVE DETENTION! I'LL KILL HIM!" Harry roared.
"I'd like to see you try, Potter! Watch as they lock you up in Azkaban! Or how about that ward for loonies in St. Mungos? You'd fit right in!" laughed Malfoy.
"SCREW OFF, YOU PATHETIC SLIMEBALL!" shouted George.
"TALK ABOUT MY DEAD MOTHER AGAIN – WHO WAS MURDERED – YOU'RE DONE!" Harry yelled, struggling against Oliver and Katie.
"Well I heard your mummy was a little Mudblood, Potter. That makes you just as much a Mudblood, since you hang around them!" Malfoy sneered, which led to Wood needing to wrap his arms around Harry to prevent him from jumping on Malfoy as Katie gripped harder on George's arms. Wood noticed tears in Harry's eyes at this point.
"SHUT UP ALREADY! JUST SHUT UP!" Harry shouted, his voice shaking with hysterics. Oliver heard the younger boy's voice cracking under the strain. Clearly, it was taking Harry everything not to start crying.
"Harry, this isn't a good look for ye; c'mon!" Wood pleaded. "Listen to me! Walk it off! Back to the changing rooms! NOW!"
He put as much power and authority into his voice as possible, and Harry and George just glared at him reluctantly, but they slowly backed towards the Gryffindor locker room. Wood made sure to keep his hands on their shoulders as Katie stayed behind him, shooting looks of disgust at Malfoy. Fred was still struggling against Alicia and Angelina. But Oliver knew as soon as he got them into the changing rooms and sitting down, they would relax.
He moved to wrap an arm around Harry's shoulders as he watched the Seeker desperately trying to deeply breathe. But he noticed the tears glistening in Harry's eyes as the fifth-year tore his gloves off. That was when he saw scarring on the back of Harry's hand – white, but clearly standing out.
Once inside the safety of the changing rooms, Wood and Angelina both dragged Fred, George, and Harry into the captain's office, sitting them on the couch that was there. The minute the three sat down, Wood noticed them shaking violently.
"You should've let us have a go at him!" snarled Fred.
"And what would happen if you did?" Angelina asked sharply.
"Maybe he would've learned a bloody lesson?!" suggested George.
"And having a go at him wouldn't have made a difference," Oliver insisted.
"I'll have a go at anyone who talks about my mother!" Harry spat, his fists clenched as his eyes glistened. That was when Oliver saw the scarring again on Harry's left hand. Words seemed to be etched there.
Oliver reached forward, grabbing Harry's hand. "What's that?" he asked, raising an eyebrow as he looked at Harry's hand.
"Nothing," Harry said begrudgingly.
Wood just shook his head, running his fingers along the scar on the back of Harry's hand. The words "I will not tell lies" were deeply etched there, as though it had been cut with a knife. Angelina's eyes widened as she got a good look at it.
"Harry, what's wrong with your hand?" she asked.
"Umbridge makes me do lines," Harry said flatly.
"With what? A knife?!" Angelina asked, horrified as she saw Fred and George had their own share of scars on the backs of their hands. The line "I will not break the rules" was deeply etched.
"Blood quill, by the looks of it," spat Oliver in disgust, running his fingers over the scarring gently as he looked at Harry. "Mam told me 'bout 'em. She said Gringotts used to use 'em for permanent contracts. But . . ."
"That's dark magic!" Angelica growled, going into "mama bear" mode. "That's illegal! That cow! How is she getting away with this?!"
"She has authority over the school," said Fred angrily. "Authority over punishments."
"Refuses to teach about the dark arts, yet uses them for punishment!" snarled Angelina. "McGonagall needs to know!"
"And what do you reckon would happen if I said something?" Harry retorted. "Next thing you know she'll launch a decree saying anyone who questions her methods will be sacked!"
Oliver thought about it. He supposed Harry had a point. But he could only imagine the pain Harry must've been in serving those detentions with that old toad. He continued running his fingers over the scars.
"How are these not infected?" Oliver asked, perplexed.
"Hermione's been giving me murtlap solution," Harry said. "It doesn't heal them, but it makes the pain manageable."
"Good on her, then," said Oliver, who'd always respected Hermione for her brilliance. But before he could continue, he heard someone entering the change rooms and they saw McGonagall in the doorway.
"Mr. and Mr. Weasley, and Mr. Potter, come with me to my office, please," McGonagall said sternly.
"Professor, in all fairness they didn't do anything. Okay? I was out there; Malfoy was insulting the Weasleys and Harry's mother," said Oliver, dropping Harry's hand and leaning a firm hand on the boy's shoulder.
"It doesn't matter, Wood. It came close to that," said McGonagall. "And the High Inquisitor wants to talk to the three of them."
Oliver and Angelina shared worried glances as Fred, George, and Harry reluctantly got up and on their feet. But Wood grabbed hold of Harry's arm, whispering to him, "Keep your cool, kid."
Harry nodded begrudgingly as he stalked out of the room. Oliver and Angelina just wished they knew the news that would await them when Harry, Fred, and George got back to the common room. Because it involved Harry, Fred, and George serving detentions every day for three weeks, and to make matters worse . . .
Banned. The word echoed in Wood's ears as he took in what Harry, Fred and George said. He couldn't believe it. But looking at Harry, Fred and George, the three boys looked absolutely angered and dejected.
"It's just so unfair," said Alicia numbly. "I mean, what about Crabbe and that Bludger he hit after the whistle had been blown? Has she banned him?"
"No," said Ginny Weasley miserably; she and Hermione were sitting on either side of Harry. "He just got lines, I heard Montague laughing about it at dinner."
"But they didn't do a thing!" Oliver spat, pissed off from where he sat near Harry. He noticed Hermione's cat Crookshanks leaping from chair to chair trying to catch the Snitch.
"If you and Katie hadn't been holding me back I would've strangled him," Harry whispered darkly.
"And Umbridge must've seen that," George spat.
"I'm going to bed," said Angelina, getting slowly to her feet. "Maybe this will all turn out to have been a bad dream . . . Maybe I'll wake up tomorrow and find we haven't played yet . . ."
Oliver shook his head, watching as the girl he entrusted with his captaincy position went upstairs to the girls' dormitory, with Katie and Alicia close behind her. Turning to Harry, he pulled his Seeker aside and led him upstairs to his dorm room, where nobody was there yet.
"I'm not asking if ye are alright," Oliver told him, "because I know ye aren't."
Harry shook his head. "He gets away with talking rubbish about my mother, all because . . ."
"I know it's unfair," Wood said firmly, yet trying to keep his voice as soothing as possible. "But I know ye've got a lot more on your mind than just this. I read about your trial in the Prophet and . . ."
"Your mum's subscribed to them?" Harry asked defensively, an edge to his voice. "Because Seamus's stupid mother is and she's going about calling me a liar!"
"No, actually," said Oliver gently, remaining as calm as he could. "She canceled her subscription a while ago, but she knows she can't say anything outright or else she'll be fired. I don't even have a subscription to the Prophet. I have to dig it out of garbage bins if I want to find anything. I only read when they reported about your trial, and how ye got off. That's it."
Harry nodded. "Thank you, Wood."
"If it makes ye feel any better, Mam's already signed up for the Order," Oliver said. "Dad and I did, too, since I've got connections to the Irish wizards through work. We're on your side. Figured I should do something useful and not sit about."
Harry nodded again, glancing up at Wood with thankful eyes as Oliver leaned forward, pulling his friend into an embrace.
"I'll make sure to stop by during the holidays," Wood murmured to him in his ear. "Until then, try staying out of trouble, Potter."
"Don't mention it," Harry mumbled as Wood broke the embrace before exiting the dorm.