Author's Note: I posted this up a couple days ago but it seems fanfiction lost it when the server went down again. Hopefully it'll work again. Expect updates to both columns soon, I've just got a few other things to do at the moment.

Disclaimer: All characters respectively belong to J.K Rowling, etc, etc. Any "original" characters which may appear in this story as just random people in the background however, ARE my creations. Not that that's important though.

Nasty Little Buggers

Chapter Three: Father?!?

Oliver re emerged from his room a short while later, clad in khakis and a black turtle neck. Fred and George were sitting at the bottom of the stairs whispering about something. Before he could get close enough to hear, however, the twins spotted him and stood up grinning.

"What do you say we take a tour of the grounds?" suggested George. "We'll show you the sights and everything."

"Shouldn't I just stay here? Maybe I should try remembering who I am," said Oliver.

"You're name is Oliver, we told you who you are already!" exclaimed Fred. "Besides," he quickly added, "you wouldn't want to hang around here by yourself in case Percy comes back."

Oliver had to admit. He'd be better off in the company of his best friends than alone with a maniac. Still… he had a feeling that none of this was right… that Fred and George weren't who they seemed to be.

The twins took Oliver outside the castle onto the grounds. They had been discussing earlier where to take him. A journey into the Forbidden Forest had been proposed and the two votes were unanimous. However, as they crossed the grounds Oliver stopped, staring off in the direction of the Quidditch pitch.

"What's that?" he asked, gazing at it in wonder.

"Oh, that's where people play Quidditch," said Fred. "Not much to see there, let's move on. Now the forest-"

"Wait, I want to go check it out," said Oliver. He didn't know what it was, but the pitch seemed to be beckoning to him. He didn't know what Quidditch was, but something inside him told him it was great and he HAD to go there.

"There's no games today, it'll just be a waste of time," protested George. But Oliver wasn't listening and had begun to make his way over the pitch.

Fred sighed. "He lost his memory and we STILL can't keep him away from Quidditch!"

The pitch wasn't empty like George had implied. Several emerald blurs were zipping around the pitch. Oliver caught glimpses of a red ball being tossed from the blurs every once in a while. It looked like fun. Oliver had the sudden urge to be up there with them. He wanted to fly too.

"Oi! Wood! Get out of here!" Oliver looked around. Who was Wood? The players had stopped their practice and had landed on the ground. They had been riding broomsticks. Oliver didn't know brooms could fly. One of the players, a large and burly boy with jet black hair was making his way over to Oliver.

"Sorry, didn't mean to interrupt," apologized Oliver. "You can go back to… whatever you were doing."

"We've got the pitch booked, Wood," barked the boy. Oliver noticed the boy had crooked buck teeth, and the way his ears stuck out made him look rather dumb. "So clear off! We don't spy on YOUR practices!"

"Bugger off, I'm not spying on anyone," said Oliver. He felt a strong dislike for this boy.

"There you are, Oliver!" Fred and George appeared at Oliver's side. "Just go back to tossing your Quaffle, Flint, no one cares."

"Oliver doesn't need to spy on your team," sneered George. "He's not looking for strategies on how to lose."

Flint glared at the twins before turning back to his team. "Expect to hear from Professor Snape about this."

The twins lead Oliver away from the pitch and back towards the direction of the forest. Oliver kept looking back at the pitch where the Slytherins had gone back to practice.

"Who was that?" asked Oliver.

"Who was what?"

"That trollish bloke back there," said Oliver, "he called me Wood."

"Yeah, that's Marcus Flint," said Fred. "He's part troll on his dad's side. He keeps a stash of human and animal parts in his room in case he gets hungry. You two aren't exactly the greatest of friends… which is a good thing probably." Fred paused. "And congratulations, you now know your last name."

"And Snape?"

Fred and George looked at Oliver and then fell silent. They looked almost solemn like someone had died.

"Well?" asked Oliver. "Who is he?"

"Gee, Oliver, we wish we weren't the ones to get you to remember this," began George slowly. "You just seemed so happy not knowing…"

"Not knowing what?"

"You see that tall man making his way across the grounds?" asked George, pointing.

Oliver followed George's hand. A tall and thin man was crossing the grounds from the castle to the pitch. He had pale, sallow skin and a hooked nose. His long, black, greasy hair fell down to his shoulders making him look like death on two legs. His billowing black robes didn't help his image. "What about him?"

"That's Professor Snape," explained Fred, "the Potions Master. He's… well… how do we put this gently…?"

"He's what?" pressed Oliver. "Just tell me!"

"He's your father, Wood," sighed George, his face full of phony remorse.

"What?!" Oliver looked shocked. "That's impossible! We look nothing like each other!"

"You got your mum's genes," supplied Fred.

"But my last name isn't Snape," pointed out Oliver. "Nice try, guys."

"He disowned you," insisted George. "You don't live with him. That's why we didn't want to tell you. A bit of a nasty part of your past."

Oliver stared blankly at the twins. He couldn't believe it. He father had disowned him? But why? And how could it be true? They had to be playing a joke. But Fred and George looked so serious… Oliver thought they looked brutally honest. If only he knew the truth…

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

This chapter's a little short but the next one will hopefully make up for it. Enjoy and leave a review to let me know what you think of it!