The double doors to the Great Hall swung open and the students of
Hogwarts quieted, turning to look at the late arrival to the first day of
school.
"I beg your pardon, Professor Dumbledore. I got a little held up over the
Atlantic." An American woman's voice said, crossing the large room with
ease. Students leaned back on their benches, straining to get a glimpse of
the tall woman, hidden in a long, hooded emerald cloak as she strode up the
center aisle to the head table. She reached out a slender hand to shake
the School Master's and the elderly wizard beamed at her in welcome.
"Professor Hyland! Welcome to our school!" He greeted warmly.
The hood nodded slightly in acknowledgement and Dumbledore turned to his
students as the mysterious woman went around the table while he spoke to
sit by the new flight instructor and Quidditch referee, Oliver Wood.
"Children, this is your new 'Defense Against the Dark Arts' professor,
Angel Hyland. As you may have observed, she is from American and attended
the Jean-Sebastian School of Wizardry in Vancouver, Canada."
Pushing back her hood at last, Angel smiled and nodded at the students as
she absently pulled off leather gloves and pulled her long auburn hair out
from under the cloak. Whispers filled the hall at once and Ron Weasley
turned to his friends with an amused grin.
"Look at Oliver! he's gaping like a bloody fish out of water!"
Harry glanced over at the former Gryffindor Quidditch captain and watching
as he ogled the new Dark Arts professor's beautiful face and bright blue
eyes, Harry joined Ron in smothered laughter.
"Leave him alone!" Hermione Granger hissed, poking Ron in the arm since he
was the only one of the pair she could reach.
"Fancy him, Hermione?" Ron asked, still laughing quietly under his hand as
Oliver nervously knocked over a goblet of pumpkin juice.
"No!" She answered hotly, "He obviously fancies Professor Hyland and
doesn't need you two bothering him! He's a professor now, you know."
"He's still Quidditch crazed Oliver." Harry pointed out, feeling the need
to defend he and his best friend's laughter. The hall had gone back to
eating and students spoke amongst themselves, a buzz filing the hall with
the excitement of a new year. Hundreds of candles floated giving off a
bright light and the ceiling mimicked the starry, clear sky outside the
castle school The three friends stared up at the head table, watching the
former student and new professor as they ate, but they were just as shocked
as everyone else about what happened next. Angel pointed down the table
with a questioning look and Oliver smiled winningly, picking up a salt
shaker and handing it to her. As she took the shaker, something bizarre
occurred, causing everyone to gasp in surprise. A loud thunder crack
sounded and the pair flew up into the air before Oliver was flung along the
head table, clearing it of food and slamming painfully into a stone wall as
Angel flew a shorter distance into the opposite direction and hit that
wall. Clutching her right shoulder with a pained expression, Angel shakily
got to her feet and looked across the silent room to where Oliver sat on
the floor, back against the wall and food covering his dark blue dress
robes. His blue eyes were wide with shock and he reached up a trembling
hand to wipe pumpkin soup from his forehead and brownish red hair before it
dripped into his eyes.
"My goodness." Dumbledore spoke up, filling the stunned silence. Waving
the wand he seemed to pull from the sleeve of his robe, the headmaster
caused all the fallen platters and food left in Oliver's wake to disappear.
Turning to his Dark Arts professor, the white haired wizard smiled
benignly.
"You certainly don't exaggerate, Miss Hyland."
Everyone else was confused by this cryptic thought, but Angel immediately
tore her gaze from Oliver and paled, then flushed with embarrassment.
Before anyone else could speak, she turned heel and fled the hall, rustling
the robes of the Slytherins as she ran quickly past.
The incident had the students' full attention and interest for the rest of the evening. Discussions wondered what had happened, if Professor Hyland had 'attacked' Oliver Wood and if so, why, as well as why she ran from the Hall. "I think he got fresh." Ron declared as he, Harry and Hermione headed to the Gryffindor common room. "He was handing her the salt with his right hand! How could he have possibly been doing anything?" Hermione demanded of the tall, red head. Flustered by her logic, Ron shrugged as they approached they approached the Gryffindor portrait. "Flutter-budget." Harry told the Fat Lady portrait. Nodding sleepily, the portrait swung outward and the trio climbed inside. "Maybe he said something insulting." Harry suggested, earning an earnest nod of agreement from Ron. "Then why did she fly back to hit the wall as well?" Hermione asked as they collapsed into cushy leather chairs before the fireplace. "Said the spell wrong." Ron spit out, scowling at the superior expression on Hermione's face. "All our other Defense against the Dark Arts teachers have sucked." "Except Lupin." Harry interjected quickly, earning acknowledging nods from the pair. "She's too good to have done that." Hermione smiled and both boy's knew that once again she had some information they didn't. Exchanging suffering looks, the pair waited for her to tell them what she knew. "I've heard of her." "And?!" Ron prompted impatiently, "What for?" Leaning forward in her chair eagerly, Hermione gestured with her hands as she spoke. "Angel Hyland is in the History of Magic as the youngest witch to ever defeat a Banshee single-handedly!" She sat back with a triumphant expression and her two friends exchanged clueless looks. "So?" Harry shrugged, hardly impressed. "How do we know she actually did it?" Ron asked, earning the glare Hermione had been giving Harry. "What?! Can't hurt to ask! Look at what Lockhart did!" "There was an entire town of witnesses." Hermione sniffed, annoyed that they weren't as convinced and excited as her. "It was the Bandon Banshee." "But...Lockhart said it was a witch with a harelip!" Harry protested, as both boys leaned forward with interest. "Lying obviously. Besides, Professor Hyland actually wasn't affected by the Memory Charm, but she doesn't like attention so she let Lockhart take the credit. A reporter from the 'Daily Prophet', who was looking for the real stories after we exposed Lockhart, found it out. You two really should subscribe to the newspaper." Waving off her common suggestion, Ron looked over at Harry. "So we know she'd good, but not what happened at dinner." "We could just ask her." Harry suggested, pointing out the obvious and easy way to go about it. "Perhaps." Hermione mused, "Anyway, I'm going to bed." That said, she rose and headed to the girls' side of the tower to her room.
Wrapped in a gigantic, fluffy white towel, Angel stood before the mirror on the back of her bedroom door. Her rooms were in a tower so she had four circular floors with large windows on the east side. Her bedroom in the top, followed by a large bath room, library-office and then a living room. The bedroom was decorated in pale blues and tapestries. Blue curtains with a layer of lace hung from the king sized bed and window. The bed and wardrobe were of beautiful dark cherry wood and old tapestries that were in Angel's family for generations, covered the wall, acting as insulation as well as decoration. She'd just finished bathing in the large marble tub and now turned slightly, dropping the towel low enough to reveal a mark on her left shoulder. Angel was aware of how gruesome it looked, though it resembled a Muggle tattoo. A red heart had a stiletto knife through it, the hilt and blade on either side. Blood dripped form the tip of the bloody knife and the heart itself into a puddle a few inches lower on the left side of her back. After she'd touched Oliver Wood, besides being thrown against a stone wall, there was a searing pain where the mark was and while she'd never been stabbed, Angel was sure that that was the sensation Ivan would use considering his perverse sense of amusement. Reaching her right hand over to the mark, Angel fingered it and after nothing happened, sighed and grabbed her nightgown. As she put it on, climbed into bed and blew out her bedside candle, Angel fell asleep wondering on the irony of fleeing to this far off school and there, finding her true love.
The class of twenty buzzed with excitement and curiosity, all of them arriving early to their first 'Defense Against The Dark Arts' class and watching the office door at the top of the marble stairs in the front of the classroom with impatience. "Alright, quiet down." A cool, soft voice said from the back of the classroom. Surprised the students all spun around to find their new professor had come into the classroom from the hall, not in her office as they expected. Her thick hair was tamed into a fat braid and Angel strolled easily up the middle aisle, her emerald robe rustling quietly. She knew she looked calm, collected and serious, but it was a facade she'd perfected as a teenager. In actuality, her heart thumped wildly with nerves and she kept her hands clasped behind her back to hide their icy clamminess.
'God, I hate speaking in front of people.' She thought tiredly. It was the last class of the day and she was dead on her feet from a lack of sleep, though the students didn't see it. "You all already know basic class rules for Hogwarts. Those certainly apply in here. I also have a few I deem important and expect followed." Angel glanced around the room, assessing each student as she spoke and then flicked her wrist, causing a roll of parchment to appear in her right hand. "I hate bullies." She stated simply. "My classroom will have no teasing, snide remarks, insults or laughing at another's expense. I expect that as we're learning new things in class, you help one another if I'm taken up with another student. No on is to be mocked for a lack of knowledge." Angel walked between the desks now, working off nervous energy. "While I'm aware some of you will read ahead, you're only responsible for the chapters I assign to you. I will prepare you to fight Dark creatures and spells. Should be fun." She'd returned to the front of the room and flashed them a smile that caused Seamus Finnegan, Ron and Neville Longbotton to grin back stupidly. Snapping her fingers after checking the parchment, Angel caused it to disappear and absently waved to her desk, the 'Dangerous Forces' textbook floating to hover beside her. "Open your books to...page three hundred and seventeen. You've covered up to Banshees, correct?" Angel asked as the class pulled out their own books and opened them excitedly. "We-We've not c-covered Banshees, Professor." Seamus spoke up, his normally laughing blue eyes showing fear. Moving to stand before his desk, Angel's expression was caring and concerned. "Irish, luv?" Nodding, a little confused by the change of subject, Seamus looked up at her with question. "Don't lose the accent. Girls in the States go weak in the knees for it." Angel commented with a slight smile as the class giggled. "But it does come with a slight...discomfort with Banshees. And with good reason." Moving back to her desk at the front of the class, Angel perched on it and waved her book to lay on the desktop without looking away from Seamus. "I realize part of it maybe legend, but what can you tell me about Banshees?" Pausing to think, Seamus cleared his throat and tried to ignore Hermione's waving hand, determined to make the pretty professor happy with him. "Always women...A Banshee's got black hair and greenish skin. It's screams kill and me mum says they have long hair and look all...skeletal. A lot of them live in Ireland, though we don't know why." "Perfect, luv! Twenty points to...Gryffindor, is it?" "Aye!" Seamus replied with a smitten grin. Smiling back, Angel glanced at the Muggle watch she wore. "Tomorrow we'll talk about defeating one...I want you to read the chapter and write a summary on Banshees for homework, alright? You can go early then." Flicking her wrist flipped her book shut and Angel watched as the students gathered their things to leave, raising an eyebrow in question as Hermione's hand shot up. "Yes?" "I'm Hermione Granger, Professor Hyland." She supplied, ignoring how still everyone else became. "Yes, Hermione?" "I just wondered...Well, what happened at dinner last night with you and Professor Wood?" "I..." Breaking off, Angel fought the pain and sadness that hit her at the mention of the dinner and missed how Ron, Neville and Seamus glared at Hermione angrily for upsetting the professor. "It's a bit long and complicated, luv, and an accident. I won't burden you with it." Everyone could tell by her tone that she was telling them politely to mind their own business and Hermione ducked her head, flushing slightly. "I'm sorry." "It's alright, child." Angel replied quietly, her expression softening. "Always ask questions....The worst they can do is say 'no.'" Looking up, Hermione shared a thankful grin with the woman got up, ignoring the Slytherins' laughter. "Oh...Mr. Potter, could you remain behind for a moment?" Moving to the front of the room as everyone left, Harry fought annoyance at the idea of being recognized and fawned over for his reputation with Lord Voldermort. Shuffling his feet, Harry waited for the door to close after the last student and looked up, expecting to find Professor Hyland searching his hairline for the lightening-like scar he carried. Instead, to his surprise, Harry found that Angel was nervously fiddling with her braid and seemingly unaware that he even stood before her. "Professor?" He asked hesitantly. Blinking, Angel focused on the boy before her and smiled with a hint of self-mockery. "You...played on the Gryffindor Quidditch team with Professor Wood, correct?" "Yes, ma'am. Oliver...Professor Wood was our team captain and goalkeeper." Harry must've shown his confusion at the question, but Angel didn't address it and moved to stand behind the desk, shifting some papers on its surface. "I need to...apologize to him." She admitted reluctantly. Glancing up at Harry and seeing his surprised look, Angel smiled wryly. "What sort of gift do you think he'd like?" His mind racing with astonishment, Harry thought it over and came up with a few suggestions to give the waiting woman.
Startling him, Oliver found himself extremely disappointed to discover that Angel wasn't in the Great Hall for breakfast the next morning. Picking at his bowl of oatmeal, Oliver sighed and reached for a Scottish scone as he wondered at his strong feelings for someone he barely knew. He heard the mass flapping of the wings of the mail owls, but expecting nothing, didn't look up. To his surprise, a beautiful barn owl perched silently on the edge of the head table before him and patiently held a package wrapped in brown paper and string until Oliver took it from him. His name was written in an unfamiliar hand and Oliver glanced around the Hall, but no one seemed to be watching him as if to see him receiving and opening it. The heart faced owl was unfamiliar to him as well, but that wasn't unexpected if it came from an owl post office. Oliver hesitantly reached a hand to the bird and was pleased to see it leaned forward and let him rub it's feathered head. Feeding the owl a piece of ham, Oliver unwrapped the package to reveal a clothing box. Frowning with a perplexed look, he pulled it open and grinned with pleasure, earning what sounded like a pleased hoot from the owl. A collector of Quidditch team robes, nothing could have pleased him more than what lay folded in the box. IT was a deep blue robe accented with silver. The badge over the left breast was a silver embroider of two brooms in the paws of a large bear while a snitch fluttered near it's head. 'Vancouver United' was on a blue banner below the picture. "Wicked!" Oliver exclaimed, earning looks from people nearby as he grinned good-naturedly. Lifting the robe from the box, his pleasure grew to find the blue and silver stripped sweater that teams wore under their robes in cold weather. Unconscious of the jealous looks he was receiving from student Quidditch fans, Oliver notices a piece of parchment had fluttered to the floor and absently thanked the owl that retrieved it for him. He opened it to find a hurried, old style of calligraphy jotted across the page, but it wasn't difficult to read.
'Oliver,
I take the liberty of using your first name since I believe the other night at dinner puts us past such formalities. Please take this Vancouver Quidditch team uniform as a gift to express my apology. While I have a vague idea about why the incident occurred between us, I must assert that I had no control over it and certainly meant you no harm. Please forgive me.
Your Servant,
Angel Hyland.' Reaching the signature, Oliver flushed slightly as his heart turned over and he cleared his throat in embarrassment as he refolded the note and placed it back in the box. "Girlfriend, Professor Wood?" Jerking his head up with flashing, angry blue eyes, Oliver relaxed immediately as he saw Harry flinch. "No, just a gift. Did you need somethin', mate?" "Just seeing if you liked the robe. Professor Hyland asked me for some gift ideas." Harry leaned on the table and glanced at the owl with a questioning look. "Oh...You can go to the owlery. I'll thank her in person." To their surprise, the bird seemed to nod, hooted and flew off. "Decidedly odd." Oliver commented in his thick Scottish brogue. Nodding, Harry glanced over to where Hermione and Ron sat and at their impatient waves, turned to Oliver with a nonchalant expression. "She said she need to apologize. About the flying across the room thing?" "Aye." Oliver answered absently, refolding the robe and closing it safely in the box. "What happened?" Harry asked with an innocent look. Glancing up at the teenager, Oliver searched his face and Harry didn't change expression, though he felt a stab of uneasiness. "Not sure." Oliver answered honestly. "She doesn't know for sure either. Just chemistry, I suppose." He added the last sentence with a mischievous grin that Harry couldn't help returning. "Strange though." "Aye...I've gotta go. See ya later, Harry." Before Harry could reply, Oliver had gathered his things and headed for the exit of the Hall.
The incident had the students' full attention and interest for the rest of the evening. Discussions wondered what had happened, if Professor Hyland had 'attacked' Oliver Wood and if so, why, as well as why she ran from the Hall. "I think he got fresh." Ron declared as he, Harry and Hermione headed to the Gryffindor common room. "He was handing her the salt with his right hand! How could he have possibly been doing anything?" Hermione demanded of the tall, red head. Flustered by her logic, Ron shrugged as they approached they approached the Gryffindor portrait. "Flutter-budget." Harry told the Fat Lady portrait. Nodding sleepily, the portrait swung outward and the trio climbed inside. "Maybe he said something insulting." Harry suggested, earning an earnest nod of agreement from Ron. "Then why did she fly back to hit the wall as well?" Hermione asked as they collapsed into cushy leather chairs before the fireplace. "Said the spell wrong." Ron spit out, scowling at the superior expression on Hermione's face. "All our other Defense against the Dark Arts teachers have sucked." "Except Lupin." Harry interjected quickly, earning acknowledging nods from the pair. "She's too good to have done that." Hermione smiled and both boy's knew that once again she had some information they didn't. Exchanging suffering looks, the pair waited for her to tell them what she knew. "I've heard of her." "And?!" Ron prompted impatiently, "What for?" Leaning forward in her chair eagerly, Hermione gestured with her hands as she spoke. "Angel Hyland is in the History of Magic as the youngest witch to ever defeat a Banshee single-handedly!" She sat back with a triumphant expression and her two friends exchanged clueless looks. "So?" Harry shrugged, hardly impressed. "How do we know she actually did it?" Ron asked, earning the glare Hermione had been giving Harry. "What?! Can't hurt to ask! Look at what Lockhart did!" "There was an entire town of witnesses." Hermione sniffed, annoyed that they weren't as convinced and excited as her. "It was the Bandon Banshee." "But...Lockhart said it was a witch with a harelip!" Harry protested, as both boys leaned forward with interest. "Lying obviously. Besides, Professor Hyland actually wasn't affected by the Memory Charm, but she doesn't like attention so she let Lockhart take the credit. A reporter from the 'Daily Prophet', who was looking for the real stories after we exposed Lockhart, found it out. You two really should subscribe to the newspaper." Waving off her common suggestion, Ron looked over at Harry. "So we know she'd good, but not what happened at dinner." "We could just ask her." Harry suggested, pointing out the obvious and easy way to go about it. "Perhaps." Hermione mused, "Anyway, I'm going to bed." That said, she rose and headed to the girls' side of the tower to her room.
Wrapped in a gigantic, fluffy white towel, Angel stood before the mirror on the back of her bedroom door. Her rooms were in a tower so she had four circular floors with large windows on the east side. Her bedroom in the top, followed by a large bath room, library-office and then a living room. The bedroom was decorated in pale blues and tapestries. Blue curtains with a layer of lace hung from the king sized bed and window. The bed and wardrobe were of beautiful dark cherry wood and old tapestries that were in Angel's family for generations, covered the wall, acting as insulation as well as decoration. She'd just finished bathing in the large marble tub and now turned slightly, dropping the towel low enough to reveal a mark on her left shoulder. Angel was aware of how gruesome it looked, though it resembled a Muggle tattoo. A red heart had a stiletto knife through it, the hilt and blade on either side. Blood dripped form the tip of the bloody knife and the heart itself into a puddle a few inches lower on the left side of her back. After she'd touched Oliver Wood, besides being thrown against a stone wall, there was a searing pain where the mark was and while she'd never been stabbed, Angel was sure that that was the sensation Ivan would use considering his perverse sense of amusement. Reaching her right hand over to the mark, Angel fingered it and after nothing happened, sighed and grabbed her nightgown. As she put it on, climbed into bed and blew out her bedside candle, Angel fell asleep wondering on the irony of fleeing to this far off school and there, finding her true love.
The class of twenty buzzed with excitement and curiosity, all of them arriving early to their first 'Defense Against The Dark Arts' class and watching the office door at the top of the marble stairs in the front of the classroom with impatience. "Alright, quiet down." A cool, soft voice said from the back of the classroom. Surprised the students all spun around to find their new professor had come into the classroom from the hall, not in her office as they expected. Her thick hair was tamed into a fat braid and Angel strolled easily up the middle aisle, her emerald robe rustling quietly. She knew she looked calm, collected and serious, but it was a facade she'd perfected as a teenager. In actuality, her heart thumped wildly with nerves and she kept her hands clasped behind her back to hide their icy clamminess.
'God, I hate speaking in front of people.' She thought tiredly. It was the last class of the day and she was dead on her feet from a lack of sleep, though the students didn't see it. "You all already know basic class rules for Hogwarts. Those certainly apply in here. I also have a few I deem important and expect followed." Angel glanced around the room, assessing each student as she spoke and then flicked her wrist, causing a roll of parchment to appear in her right hand. "I hate bullies." She stated simply. "My classroom will have no teasing, snide remarks, insults or laughing at another's expense. I expect that as we're learning new things in class, you help one another if I'm taken up with another student. No on is to be mocked for a lack of knowledge." Angel walked between the desks now, working off nervous energy. "While I'm aware some of you will read ahead, you're only responsible for the chapters I assign to you. I will prepare you to fight Dark creatures and spells. Should be fun." She'd returned to the front of the room and flashed them a smile that caused Seamus Finnegan, Ron and Neville Longbotton to grin back stupidly. Snapping her fingers after checking the parchment, Angel caused it to disappear and absently waved to her desk, the 'Dangerous Forces' textbook floating to hover beside her. "Open your books to...page three hundred and seventeen. You've covered up to Banshees, correct?" Angel asked as the class pulled out their own books and opened them excitedly. "We-We've not c-covered Banshees, Professor." Seamus spoke up, his normally laughing blue eyes showing fear. Moving to stand before his desk, Angel's expression was caring and concerned. "Irish, luv?" Nodding, a little confused by the change of subject, Seamus looked up at her with question. "Don't lose the accent. Girls in the States go weak in the knees for it." Angel commented with a slight smile as the class giggled. "But it does come with a slight...discomfort with Banshees. And with good reason." Moving back to her desk at the front of the class, Angel perched on it and waved her book to lay on the desktop without looking away from Seamus. "I realize part of it maybe legend, but what can you tell me about Banshees?" Pausing to think, Seamus cleared his throat and tried to ignore Hermione's waving hand, determined to make the pretty professor happy with him. "Always women...A Banshee's got black hair and greenish skin. It's screams kill and me mum says they have long hair and look all...skeletal. A lot of them live in Ireland, though we don't know why." "Perfect, luv! Twenty points to...Gryffindor, is it?" "Aye!" Seamus replied with a smitten grin. Smiling back, Angel glanced at the Muggle watch she wore. "Tomorrow we'll talk about defeating one...I want you to read the chapter and write a summary on Banshees for homework, alright? You can go early then." Flicking her wrist flipped her book shut and Angel watched as the students gathered their things to leave, raising an eyebrow in question as Hermione's hand shot up. "Yes?" "I'm Hermione Granger, Professor Hyland." She supplied, ignoring how still everyone else became. "Yes, Hermione?" "I just wondered...Well, what happened at dinner last night with you and Professor Wood?" "I..." Breaking off, Angel fought the pain and sadness that hit her at the mention of the dinner and missed how Ron, Neville and Seamus glared at Hermione angrily for upsetting the professor. "It's a bit long and complicated, luv, and an accident. I won't burden you with it." Everyone could tell by her tone that she was telling them politely to mind their own business and Hermione ducked her head, flushing slightly. "I'm sorry." "It's alright, child." Angel replied quietly, her expression softening. "Always ask questions....The worst they can do is say 'no.'" Looking up, Hermione shared a thankful grin with the woman got up, ignoring the Slytherins' laughter. "Oh...Mr. Potter, could you remain behind for a moment?" Moving to the front of the room as everyone left, Harry fought annoyance at the idea of being recognized and fawned over for his reputation with Lord Voldermort. Shuffling his feet, Harry waited for the door to close after the last student and looked up, expecting to find Professor Hyland searching his hairline for the lightening-like scar he carried. Instead, to his surprise, Harry found that Angel was nervously fiddling with her braid and seemingly unaware that he even stood before her. "Professor?" He asked hesitantly. Blinking, Angel focused on the boy before her and smiled with a hint of self-mockery. "You...played on the Gryffindor Quidditch team with Professor Wood, correct?" "Yes, ma'am. Oliver...Professor Wood was our team captain and goalkeeper." Harry must've shown his confusion at the question, but Angel didn't address it and moved to stand behind the desk, shifting some papers on its surface. "I need to...apologize to him." She admitted reluctantly. Glancing up at Harry and seeing his surprised look, Angel smiled wryly. "What sort of gift do you think he'd like?" His mind racing with astonishment, Harry thought it over and came up with a few suggestions to give the waiting woman.
Startling him, Oliver found himself extremely disappointed to discover that Angel wasn't in the Great Hall for breakfast the next morning. Picking at his bowl of oatmeal, Oliver sighed and reached for a Scottish scone as he wondered at his strong feelings for someone he barely knew. He heard the mass flapping of the wings of the mail owls, but expecting nothing, didn't look up. To his surprise, a beautiful barn owl perched silently on the edge of the head table before him and patiently held a package wrapped in brown paper and string until Oliver took it from him. His name was written in an unfamiliar hand and Oliver glanced around the Hall, but no one seemed to be watching him as if to see him receiving and opening it. The heart faced owl was unfamiliar to him as well, but that wasn't unexpected if it came from an owl post office. Oliver hesitantly reached a hand to the bird and was pleased to see it leaned forward and let him rub it's feathered head. Feeding the owl a piece of ham, Oliver unwrapped the package to reveal a clothing box. Frowning with a perplexed look, he pulled it open and grinned with pleasure, earning what sounded like a pleased hoot from the owl. A collector of Quidditch team robes, nothing could have pleased him more than what lay folded in the box. IT was a deep blue robe accented with silver. The badge over the left breast was a silver embroider of two brooms in the paws of a large bear while a snitch fluttered near it's head. 'Vancouver United' was on a blue banner below the picture. "Wicked!" Oliver exclaimed, earning looks from people nearby as he grinned good-naturedly. Lifting the robe from the box, his pleasure grew to find the blue and silver stripped sweater that teams wore under their robes in cold weather. Unconscious of the jealous looks he was receiving from student Quidditch fans, Oliver notices a piece of parchment had fluttered to the floor and absently thanked the owl that retrieved it for him. He opened it to find a hurried, old style of calligraphy jotted across the page, but it wasn't difficult to read.
'Oliver,
I take the liberty of using your first name since I believe the other night at dinner puts us past such formalities. Please take this Vancouver Quidditch team uniform as a gift to express my apology. While I have a vague idea about why the incident occurred between us, I must assert that I had no control over it and certainly meant you no harm. Please forgive me.
Your Servant,
Angel Hyland.' Reaching the signature, Oliver flushed slightly as his heart turned over and he cleared his throat in embarrassment as he refolded the note and placed it back in the box. "Girlfriend, Professor Wood?" Jerking his head up with flashing, angry blue eyes, Oliver relaxed immediately as he saw Harry flinch. "No, just a gift. Did you need somethin', mate?" "Just seeing if you liked the robe. Professor Hyland asked me for some gift ideas." Harry leaned on the table and glanced at the owl with a questioning look. "Oh...You can go to the owlery. I'll thank her in person." To their surprise, the bird seemed to nod, hooted and flew off. "Decidedly odd." Oliver commented in his thick Scottish brogue. Nodding, Harry glanced over to where Hermione and Ron sat and at their impatient waves, turned to Oliver with a nonchalant expression. "She said she need to apologize. About the flying across the room thing?" "Aye." Oliver answered absently, refolding the robe and closing it safely in the box. "What happened?" Harry asked with an innocent look. Glancing up at the teenager, Oliver searched his face and Harry didn't change expression, though he felt a stab of uneasiness. "Not sure." Oliver answered honestly. "She doesn't know for sure either. Just chemistry, I suppose." He added the last sentence with a mischievous grin that Harry couldn't help returning. "Strange though." "Aye...I've gotta go. See ya later, Harry." Before Harry could reply, Oliver had gathered his things and headed for the exit of the Hall.