A/N: Welcome back dear readers. First off (sigh) I would just like to say that I'm sorry for killing Oliver's parents. (Another sigh) But I don't randomly kill people and I spent about five minutes agonizing over whether or not to kill them, and I finally decided that a plot line of my story hinged upon them being murdered by Voldemort. Those of you who called me a mean author (you know who you are! I could see most of you calling me a mean author.) Know that I thought long and hard about it and I do not randomly kill people in my stories. It provides angst. (Author checks the genre) Yep. Angst is up there. And I do want to hug Oliver. (Longing sigh) I'm going to marry that boy.

Enjoy your next chapter! Alicia is quite significant in this chapter. She's actually based exactly on someone that I know from my volleyball team. So forgive me if I have a soft spot for Alicia, because my Alicia is based on one of the people that I would just love to be. Thank you!

Disclaimer: For goodness sakes. Do I ever have to do this anymore? It's stupid. The thing up at the top of the page says Which means that I don't own it.

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It had been a bad night. Mr. Weasley had come home; looking like his entire world had ended. It was right then that Bill and Charlie knew what had happened. Bill and Charlie went to join their parents in the next room. Everyone else knew what had happened when they heard Mrs. Weasley's grief-filled shriek. She came out of the room with her hand clapped over her mouth and tears streaming down her face.

Hermione whimpered softly. Ron put his arm around her and held her close. Angelina clenched her fist and looked down at her knees to keep herself from crying. She felt a pressure on her hand and looked carefully at it. Fred's hand was gently gripping hers, giving oceans of comfort, worlds of comfort.

The friends had stayed in the room for the rest of the afternoon. When asked if they needed to go manage the shop, George had shaken his head. "We've got Lee taking care of the shop for a few days," he whispered hoarsely. Katie sniffed and nodded.

It was Angelina who finally broke their long silence. "I can't do this anymore," she announced brokenly, standing up and stumbling backwards. "I'll be up in Ginny's room," she explained as she went up the stairs. They watched Angelina disappear.

"I think I'm going to join her," Ginny sniffed. She followed Angelina up the stairs, ignoring Ron's calls after her, asking if she was all right.

The others still sat on the overstuffed sofa. The cozy Weasley house suddenly felt claustrophobic and cramped. Harry felt like the crocheted pillows were getting ready to jump off the couch and strangle him. "I think that I'm going to turn in," George volunteered, slowly getting up and walking to the room he shared with Fred. Fred stood up right after his twin.

"As George goes, so goes my nation," he said lamely before running up the stairs. Alicia, Katie, Hermione, Harry and Ron listened to their door slam. Alicia sighed and bit her lip. She wiped a stray tear out of her eyes.

"I think....I'm just going to go somewhere else," she said before walking outside. "I just need to be alone right now."

"Alicia, be careful out there!" Katie called after her. "Don't go too far out of bounds!" Her last words were spoken as Alicia closed the door behind her. Katie awkwardly sat on the couch. "Well. I think I'm going to go up with Angelina," she said as she excused herself. She left Hermione, Ron, and Harry sitting alone on the couch.

Harry felt worse than he did earlier. Oliver's parents were dead and it was all his fault. How many more people would die because of him? How many more funerals would he have to attend before his final destiny with Voldemort came to pass? Would he have to watch all of his friends die? Would he have to watch Ron and then Hermione go through the pain and agony of the torture that Voldemort could inflict on a person? Harry bit his lip as his inner thoughts became darker and darker.

Hermione sat between the two boys. Her thoughts were dwelling on the last time she had seen Oliver. It was at the farewell feast at Harry's third year. Everyone had given Oliver credit for their third House Cup victory. The credit was richly deserved. He had led the Quidditch team to the Cup, which had earned Gryffindor's points enough to win the House Cup. Hermione sadly sniffed. Things had changed so much from their carefree third year. They were in sixth year now, going to school in a world where Voldemort had risen again.

"I didn't even know them," Harry finally said hoarsely. Ron and Hermione looked pityingly at him. "I never met his parents; the most I ever saw of them was a photograph in his room. But they're dead and it's because of me." He looked piercingly at Ron and Hermione. "How can I kill someone that I don't even know?"

"Harry, that's not true!" Hermione said in a shocked voice. "You didn't kill them; Voldemort killed them. You could never kill anyone."

If only she knew, Harry thought darkly to himself before continuing. "I as good as killed them Hermione. They're dead because of me. Oliver is in prison because of me. Sirius and Cedric are dead because of me. I have four people's innocent blood on my hands. How much more blood will I have on my hands by the end?"

Hermione shook her head helplessly. She reached over and enveloped Harry in a hug. Harry seized his muscles and then slowly relaxed. He patted her head to comfort her, though he still held true to what he had said before. He had killed Oliver's parents. It was only a matter of time before he killed Oliver.

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Alicia walked outside. She wiped tears out of her eyes with the back of her hand. She sniffed and looked up at the trees. She needed to be alone. If she didn't come in within five minutes then Angelina, Katie, Fred, and George would come looking for her. For once she needed to be completely alone. She quickly climbed the tree to settle among the branches.

She cloaked the entire tree in an Invisibility Shield. Being of age came in handy sometimes-no, all of the time. She hugged her knees close to her chest and rocked herself back and forth. This was her way of grieving. She would go alone and by herself until she felt ready to emerge with the rest of the world. This was her way of handling grief, but Katie and Angelina could never understand it. Katie's grandmother was Irish, so she had been brought up with the idea of the huge Irish wakes to mourn the dead. Angelina's personality was naturally social so she could not understand someone going off alone to be sad. Grief should be shared with others. It was a group event and Alicia did not believe that. When someone else was crying, you should comfort them, but your own misery would be a private affair.

Away from everyone, Alicia started to cry, not so much for Oliver's parents but for Oliver. He had been through so much at school already. He had to lose his parents as well? After all of his hardships and trials? She had been one of the people that he had written to over the summer, and she thought that he had really bared his soul to her. When he first left school he had written about missing Hogwarts and missing Gryffindor. Later he had written about the difficulty of being accepted onto a Quidditch team when there were so many more people that were better than him. Alicia had doubted this but Oliver had always been a perfectionist about Quidditch. Not so much about school, but he was a perfectionist about Quidditch.

And then there were the angry letters. The ones that spoke of the people who had tried to stop his rise to the top. The angriest letter she had ever gotten had been about a year ago. It had been about Marcus Flint, Wood's old rival at school. He had been signed to a team almost the second that he got out from Hogwarts. The team suited him: they were brutal and not known for fair play. Flint had seen Wood one day and had tried to rub his good fortune in Wood's face. Wood had retaliated, and the next letter Alicia had gotten from him had come while he was at home recuperating from a bad beating. He always had been rather hopeless at fights, Alicia thought.

She sniffed once more. Her crying and the events of the day had left her worn out and exhausted. She leaned her head against the tree and was asleep before she knew what had happened.

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"Spinnet! Bell! Johnson! Come here, I want to talk to you!" Alicia sighed and angled her broomstick towards the goals. She landed beneath the goals and watched Oliver spiral down to meet her.

"What does he want now?" Angelina asked as she watched their Captain walk towards them. "I thought we did rather well in practice today."

"You did do rather well, but there were still some things that we need to work on," Oliver said cheerfully, throwing his broomstick over his shoulder. "Bell, you need to work on your acceleration. Your turns are sharp enough but once you turn you can't get anywhere. Spinnet, be a little bit more aggressive. Go for the Quaffle; don't wait for it to come to you. Johnson, please goodness, do not do what you were doing today during practice."

"What was I doing?" Angelina asked, her face a mask of shock. "I was practicing well."

"Johnson, you were waving your arms around in order to tell Bell and Spinnet that you were open. If you want the Quaffle, please open your mouth and yell for it. You have no problem yelling any other time," Oliver said wryly. Angelina glared at him.

"At least she's not like Alicia," Katie finally said, a smile breaking out on her face. "Mine! Mine! Mine!" She and Angelina began chirping dementedly. "Mine! Mine! Mine!" Oliver looked at them strangely while Alicia looked down at the ground trying to hide her blushing face. "That's how she calls the ball!" Katie defended herself.

"I do not!" Alicia whispered, a smile breaking out on her face despite her best efforts. She lightly kicked the ground in protest. "I do not!"

"All right, that's it," Oliver said, smiling at his three Chasers. "Team! Call it in for today!" Harry soared down to the ground while Fred and George looked up guiltily. They slunk past Oliver to the locker rooms. "What were they doing?" Oliver asked Harry.

Harry shrugged. "It's better not to ask," he said before disappearing into the locker rooms. The Keeper and Chasers stayed on the pitch a few more seconds before Katie coughed.

"I have Potions homework, so I'm going to start on that," she announced. "Stupid git Snape..." she walked away, muttering to herself. Angelina said an excuse that sounded about the same and walked off after Katie.

"Mine! Mine! Mine!" she chirped to herself like a demented bird. "Mine! Mine! Mine!" Alicia looked fondly after Angelina before turning back to Oliver.

"Do you have any other homework?" he asked her. She shook her head and started to walk with him. He gathered the Quaffle and locked it in its place in the trunk. She watched him wrestle the Bludgers into the trunk. He checked the balls and bats before locking the trunk. Alicia took one of the handles and walked with him into the locker room. "Thanks for helping," Oliver grunted as he shoved the trunk back into the shelf. He checked once more to make sure that the ball trunk was locked before he swung the cabinet door shut and locked that also.

"It's no problem," Alicia said. She watched Oliver check the lock several times. "Are you obsessive about your locks?" he turned to her and then looked back at the huge lock.

"Maybe a little bit," he admitted. "I wouldn't put it past that bastard Flint to sabotage our balls," he accused. He went on grumbling, much like Katie had. Alicia smiled fondly at him. He looked up at her.

"What?" he asked her in his thick Scottish brogue. "What's the matter with you?"

"You're very amusing," she said, leaning against the lockers and taking down her sweaty hair. "Has there ever been a time in which you have not eaten, drank, or breathed Quidditch?"

Oliver thought seriously. "No," he said truthfully. "So you just think I'm assuming? I'm not sexy? Daring? Dashing? The most gorgeous thing you've ever seen in the entire world?"

Alicia softly laughed. "Let's not go there," she said softly. She could not think of anything else to say, so she just leaned against the lockers. Oliver was used to her quiet ways and they stood in comfortable silence. Oliver changed out of his scarlet robes as did Alicia. She threw on a light jacket to ward off the night chill. They walked out of the locker room in silence.

"What are you going to do, you bonny lass?" he asked her as they came up to the castle doors. Alicia shrugged. Oliver pulled the door open for her and she ducked into the warm hall.

"I have some History of Magic that I should probably do," she admitted, with a nasty look on her face. Four feet Binns had assigned them, and she had been unable to pass three foot eight inches. "You? Wait. You're going to do Quidditch, and Quidditch, and more Quidditch, leaving Percy to explain the homework that you were supposed to do at breakfast. Honestly Wood. You need to do homework."

"I'm not good at it," Wood said defensively as they walked up to the common room. "I'm not smart like you. I play Quidditch. That's what I'm good at. And are you my mother or are you my Chaser?" Alicia conceded a grudging defeat. "And I was actually going to do some homework tonight. Percy has assured me that my grades at History of Magic will not be good enough for me to graduate, so I am doing an essay." He rolled his eyes as he remembered the topic. "It's about famous wizards that have come from northern Russia. What's in northern Russia anyway? Just a lot of ice, isn't it?" His fair face crinkled in confusion as he thought about it.

Alicia laughed softly. "Yes, it's a lot of ice," she assured him. He nodded in satisfaction.

"I thought so. But nothing's there," he clarified as he started up the doors to the boy's dormitories. Alicia called out a soft goodbye. Oliver went into his door. "Couldn't find a single person who's ever been to Northern Russia," he said before closing the door.

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Alicia woke up, nearly falling off the tree. "Alicia!" Katie called. It was night now, and the other Chasers had become worried about their friends. "Alicia, are you here?" Katie called, her voice taking on a sharp tone of worry. "Alicia, this isn't funny! Come out!"

"I'm right here!" Alicia called, before remembering the Invisibility Shield. She quickly jumped down from the tree and walked to Katie. Katie turned around and regarded her with relief.

"Oh thank Merlin," Katie said, gripping her tightly. "We thought that the worst had happened. I know that we have the Secret-Keeper, but you can't be too sure...were you sleeping?"

"A little bit, yes," Alicia admitted, sweeping back her wispy light blonde hair. "I couldn't help it. I was very tired. Although now I'm thinking that sleeping in a tree might not be the best thing to do in the world. I had very strange dreams." She furrowed her brow as she remembered just what she had dreamed.

"What is it?" Katie asked curiously. Alicia shook her head and tucked her arm inside Katie's arm.

"I don't know," she said untruthfully. "Come on. You were right. We can't be too careful out here alone. There's always something out there." As they walked in Alicia was not listening to Katie talk. She had dreamt that for a reason. That dream had a meaning, and she thought that she knew what it meant.

She thought that the dream meant that Oliver was in northern Russia.

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Oliver didn't scream as the bright red lights lanced through his body. After a while he had become used to the pain of the Crutacius Curse. He had become tolerant of it to the point of not screaming. When Voldemort took his wand away, Oliver let his muscles relax. His breaths came out as a sobbing gasp. Voldemort saw his relaxation and immediately attacked.

His curse found the unprotected spot of Oliver's stomach. Oliver screamed and curled up into a ball, but the damage was already done. Voldemort turned his attention to Oliver's head, making Oliver think that his eyelids were going to explode inside their sockets. When Voldemort judged that Oliver was going to pass out if he didn't stop, he took his wand away.

"Is that enough?" he asked softly, standing over the sobbing man. Oliver curled into the fetal position, trying to make his body as small as possible. Voldemort could see his vulnerable position, and he could see that Oliver Wood had just about given up. He no longer cared about living or dying, he just wanted the pain to stop. "Aren't you tired of all this pain? I could make it stop you know. I hold the power of life, death, of pain and pleasure over you. Are you ready to stop yourself? Just say yes. Just tell me a little thing, anything. Just say yes." His voice was soothing and enticing. It was hard for Oliver's mind to refuse that voice, especially when it was making so much sense.

Oliver warred within himself, caught between concern for his friends and concern for himself. Voldemort would kill his friends. Voldemort had already murdered his parents. There was nothing to stop him. Voldemort would go through his friends and family one by one until he had killed them all. The voice began speaking again, the words washing over Oliver. He only recognized the tone: seemingly peaceful and encouraging while hiding a threat underneath the fair words. Oliver opened his mouth and heard his own voice say: "What do you want to know?"

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(Author sits stunned at desk for a moment.) Did I write that? (looks around) Well, no one else is here, so I suppose I did. Don't give in Oliver! Don't give in!

Garr. Here is an update for all of you who were dying to get the next chapter.

Until next time!